The Outer Banks

The Outer Banks are a hundred mile long sandbar sticking into the Atlantic Ocean. The weird bit is driving Highway 12 you have no…

…idea the ocean is right there. 

It is actually a waterfront highway but the ocean is hidden behind a berm. 

They need the berm to keep the highway open. Blow a storm and lose Highway 12. Actually the highway was reportedly a mess over the Christmas storm last week, with water and slush ice in the roadway mixed with wind blown sand. Fantastic I’m sure, but not for me. The melted ice was looking like a lake in the road: 

I can’t help but compare Highway 12 to driving through the Keys. This is a much more rural experience as this is after all the Hatteras National Seashore. The endless commerce and neon and tropical vegetation is a total contrast to the subdued North Carolina coastline.

In midwinter there’s no traffic - and no open businesses either! - but I’m told high season is a huge traffic jam half the time. 

Ocracoke was waking up yesterday as islanders came home from family celebrations on the mainland. Tourists came off the ferry looking  to get ready for New Years Eve celebrations so we, the contrarians rode the opposite way to Hatteras (below) with just half a dozen vehicles on the ferry. 

Rusty had no interest in the whole ferry experience. I told him it was only an hour and it was free but he curled up and slept. I did a crossword. Layne complained she had nowhere to sit. 

We wanted clam chowder on a brisk 45 degree day. There wasn’t any we could find so we settled for hamburgers at a place called Bros in the village of Avon where Layne’s Rueben and my spicy burger were excellent. Good enough even with no clams in sight. 

The Buxton Woods is one of the largest wilderness areas in these sandbars and I wanted to take a walk. It wasn’t Ocracoke’s waterfront Springer’s Point with ocean views but I enjoyed the shaded woods and so did Rusty. I also found out what sedge is. That would be the damp weedy bit of marsh between the higher dry land surrounding it. This is sedge:

We walked alone as Layne had had trouble sleeping Monday night  worrying about waking up early to finish departure preparations, the problem of not trusting your alarm,  so she took a nap while we walked. Then we all stopped at the famous Hatteras lighthouse. The 275 steps were closed for construction which was a bummer. The Bodie lighthouse is closed for winter so that was that in the lighthouse visiting department. Hatteras light was pretty though, almost as scenic as GANNET2:

There you have it for Highway 12. Everything except the basics is closed. You can buy gas and groceries but tourist tat is unavailable for the winter non season. Keep driving. 

Just north of Rodanthe the highway takes a weird turn to the left. The reason is that the old road got smushed by one storm too many, so they cut their losses and built a whole new causeway in the sound next to the low lying sandbar with the old road! Odd but it works all right and gives a nice smooth ride. 

There is no channel or passageway required for boats so the causeway is level with no hump in the middle to give you a view across the marshes. For that you have to wait for the spot where the road always used to collapse at Oregon Inlet. It won’t now because they have built a serious vast modern bridge there. 

There’s a marina near the bridge and the Bodie Lighthouse so deep sea anglers get out into the ocean and the bridge is tall enough for them to get underneath and out through this inlet: 

The funny thing for us sitting on Ocracoke with nowhere to go for ten days was hearing about how the ferry wasn’t running and everyone seemed okay with that isolation. Fair enough we thought, they are used to it. Then we heard questions about whether the highway north was open! That came out of nowhere and we wondered how that happened. It turns out the strong winds blew sand onto the road but beyond that the Christmas freeze put some serious ice and even dangerous black ice on the road which is decidedly not normal. Bummer. I was therefore glad to see a mere lake which was bad enough by the time we drove through. 

By Nag’s Head the road turns into a four lane Federal Highway and the scenery becomes chain and box store countryside with a giant hospital dominating the southern end of town, that big blue box: 

Kitty Hawk sits in much larger Nag’s Head’s shadow but it shines as the place where powered flight took off a hundred years ago. We visited the spot in 2013 when we first visited the Outer Banks on Spring Break and I wrote this post about it: 

https://conchscooter.blogspot.com/2013/03/kitty-hawk-flies.html?m=0

Our plan was to spend the night at the rest area which sits at the entrance  to Kitty Hawk from the north. 

Not busy in December it worked for us as an overnight stop. There’s a monument commemorating the first flight in the rest area. 

Rusty as usual ignored the whole thing. 

I enjoyed reading the milestones listed even though I’m not a fan of flying. Modern commercial travel is horrible but the whole notion of hanging in the air being propelled by internal combustion strikes me as slightly mad. That I enjoy the perils of highway travel instead of the statistically safer realms of flight makes me not so bright I know. My hat is off to people who like to buzz about in the clouds. 

That two midwestern cyclists decided to build a flying machine and change the course of human history boggles my mind. That they succeeded takes my breath away. And they didn’t die. Good job. 

Our stop for the night. Pretty romantic I think you’ll agree.

Springer’s Point, Ocracoke

There’s not a lot to do in Ocracoke in winter when the whole place shuts down. Going for a walk is one option and in this town there is only one of everything. One mechanic, one medical facility…

…one fire station but with no sleeping quarters obviously! 

One grocery store:

…with a peculiarly low ceiling but stocked with anything you’d want from radiator coolant to vodka to sun chips.

And one well known walking trail, called Springer’s Point.

The latest land purchase made in 2021 added nine acres to the preserve which now totals 131 acres and that is a fair sized parcel on an island in a village that amounts to only 775 acres outside the National Park. 

I couldn’t figure out on line where it got it’s name but Springer’s Point is famous for one thing and that is pirates, namely Blackbeard. There is a pool of deep water named for him between the point and the channel and it is said to have been Edward Teach’s preferred anchorage. Indeed history claims there was a pirate gathering right here on the beach when a whole bunch of them anchored out for a barbecue just like a modern sailing club outing. A month later in November 1718 Lieutenant Robert Maynard of the Royal Navy attacked Teach’s ship and a member of his crew beheaded the pirate in the hand to hand battle that followed. In case you were wondering that doesn’t happen very often in modern sailing club outings. 

As you might imagine with that history behind it Springer’s Point has generated numerous ghost stories of a white shirted figure haunting the woods. Luckily for us we are law abiding and the trails are open only during daylight hours so we were spared any wild imaginings. 

It is a pretty spot with several trails wandering through the woods to the beach, all ghost-free in daylight. 

The place is absolutely bursting with useful signage and information about the ecology and botany of the woods. 

Judging by the repetition of the signage there is a tendency by the lawless to ride bicycles into the preserve and let dogs run off leash. 

We did neither not least because I fear rule breaking will end up banning dogs altogether from these lovely places. Also I dislike being told off for breaking perfectly reasonable rules. 

We did meet some other people who apparently did not share our sentiments. As soon as they saw us they turned away and walked the beach throwing a ball for their rather raucous dog. Rusty sat and watched because he’s perfect. 

I waved at their blank faces as we turned back into the woods and found ourselves at a well known landmark where a man and his horse were buried. 

I found out who Sam Jones was in a 20 year old online article written by the local historian who operates the Village Craftsman store and wrote  Jones’ story on this website: 

https://www.villagecraftsmen.com/history-of-springers-point/

Apparently Sam Jones made a fortune and discovered Ocracoke and spent summers here developing the village and preserving the woods at Springer’s Point.  I believe we took Philip Howard’s ghost tour in 2013. 

He was full of information about the island and made our Spring Break visit  memorable. I looked him up online and he was among many who got flooded by Hurricane Dorian in 2019. That was “merely” a Category One storm and it wrecked a third of the housing stock on Ocracoke, about 400 homes. 

Springer’s Point is a lovely walk. 

We walked back to our rental home dodging the evening commute. You’d be surprised how many cars can suddenly pop up at once on these bucolic streets. 

Happy Boxing Day everyone! 

Windy Ocracoke

Heavy winds. Clear skies. Freezing cold. 

So naturally Rusty and I took a road trip. 

It was a half hour each way because we stopped to inspect the chaos along Highway 12. Predictably we are cut off with wind gusts to 56 miles per hour. 

This could be serious but as it is we are fine. I worry more about peoples’ animals and I  hope they are being looked after. Himself is snug indoors when he wants to be enjoying the central heat.    

We don’t have a dog door so when he’s had enough of sunbathing on the deck he sits at the front door and stares through the glass. I wish he’d bark but he just stares real hard. It gets annoying  keeping an eye out for him but what can I do? He woke me as usual at 5:30 and we went for walk number one. It was going to be a long day. 

The 5:30 car drove by as it does each day and turned up it’s side street. Maybe it’s the night auditor at some weird all night emporium tucked away on Ocracoke. It was warm, 60 degrees but Rusty got bored so we went home.  I slept till 9:30. Then we took walk number two. We passed Santa looking the worse for wear, flopping in the breeze like he’d tied one on the night before. 

And we arrived at Springer’s Point. 

A cacophony of signage. Dogs on leash. Pick up after your dog. Use common sense etc…I did a whole post on Springer’s Point which is going to crop up here next week as this place has some history, but for now it’s storm drama shock horror. 

I wanted to enjoy the storm a bit. That’s why we came to Ocracoke: to enjoy winter without suffering my kryptonite which is snow. So far so good.  

There are some resemblances to Key West  inasmuch as the sound is shallow and honking winds create relatively modest waves which surprised me. 

Hurricane Dorian in 2019 was a Category 1 storm but it caused terrible damage to Ocracoke. 400 of the 1200 homes in the village were wrecked or suffered severe damage. A lot of them were rebuilt on stilts, not the 15 foot style of the Keys floodplain but by at least a few feet. 

It was windy out there and Rusty found the creaking cedar trees to be a bit disturbing. He preferred walking the waterside trail. 

I enjoyed it thoroughly, not too cold but windy enough it gave me camera shake in the strong gusts. We met another couple of people out there watching the waves. Bonnie and Jason rescue cats, live in central North Carolina and are used to the power being knocked out by periodic winter ice storms. Rusty loves Bonnie.  They weren’t phased by the prospect of no power over the weekend. 

Actually they had planned a trip to Antarctica with another couple of friends but  their flight, not their friends’ flight, got delayed and all their connections went west. They weren’t too bummed as they knew Antarctica would be there when their trip got reorganized. But still …their friends are down south and they are here. 

So what do you do if you can’t see the snowy white wastes of penguin land? Why you book a trip to Ocracoke of course! That gave me pause. I’m stuck on an island which Antarctic explorers choose as an alternative to the coldest place on Earth? I enjoyed talking to them. 

Layne had bean soup to make after lunch so I planned another expedition for later in the day. 

Meanwhile we meandered over to the tea shop around the corner to have a hot chocolate, for us not Rusty who was reveling in the cold air. 

The little store boggled my mind. They had all sorts of delicious English foods, Christmas pudding, custard, chocolates and so forth. I snuck a fruit cake past the guardian of my health which I shall eat alone as Herself hates candied fruit. Lucky me. 

Traditionally bread is said to be the “staff of life.”  I am one of those peculiar people who actually likes fruit cake and could live off it. Give me your castoffs, unwanted gifts and make me very happy. A cup of Yorkshire Gold and a massive hunk of this stuff, any fruit cake, and I’ll shut up for the time it takes to stuff it in my face. Ocracoke came through for me. 

It was a raw day yesterday with more promised into Christmas. 

Rusty was pretty tired and slept through the indoor  exercise portion of the afternoon. He actually expressed some reluctance to get aboard GANNET2 for a drive he was that tired, my middle aged dog. 

The (only) road to the Hatteras ferry terminal was windy and wild. 

Getting out of the van to make a photograph took some planning to avoid the wind and wind blown sand coming inside. 

Hatteras on the horizon, twenty minutes away on a free ferry ride currently unattainable. 

The terminal obviously was deserted. This isn’t the time of year where you might have to wait for the next ferry even when they are running. In winter they run about once an hour from 4:30 am to midnight daily, approximately. 

It was cold and strangely energizing to be out leaning into the wind. No boats at all at the docks! 

Rusty was pretty sure the whole trip was bogus so he stuck with me but took no joy in the display of nature as I did. Back home he passed out exhausted on the couch.  We got into the van and drove the 14 miles south, twenty minutes roughly back to the village. 

I’m sure locals drive this far above the 55 mph speed limit in their giant trucks and do it in ten minutes but I was in no hurry. 

It was a beautiful evening and I could stop as I wanted to look at the scenery. There was no other traffic. 

The ocean wasn’t the sound, the waves here were much larger. Europe and Africa were three thousand miles in that direction: 

Apparently Highway 12 at Oregon  Inlet further north on the main islands is still a mess from Dorian and is getting some work. The two hour drive to Kitty Hawk is not much different from this as I remember it. And I’m not surprised the highway gets torn up from time to time. 

They have to build the sand berms to keep the ocean off the highway but that does rather limit the views as you drive! 

I pulled off only at the parking areas for beach access. I was not in the mood to get stuck in unseen soft sand and find myself faffing around trying to dig out all by myself. There was bean soup and fruitcake waiting at home.  

That was fun, an hour spent getting cold and wind blown and wearing out my dog. 

The rental company sent us a note reminding us to let the taps drip to prevent freezing. Of course the sound of precious water drip drip dripping is driving me mad but I’m not in the tropics anymore. 

Waking up Christmas Eve morning Rusty decided 8:30 was a good hour to venture out so he came in and woke me yawning ostentatiously as usual. Our walk was frigid with west winds cutting through everything. Even the modest puddles were transformed into things of beauty more or less.