Searching For Ocracoke

Geographical oddities have always fascinated me, the inveterate map reader. When I landed in New York in 1981 and bought a Vespa 200 to tour the United States I knew I was going to visit Key West all the way out there in the ocean. I’d seen it on a map…

I didn’t get to that other coastal oddity, The Outer Banks, until 2013 when Layne and I took a Spring Break in Ocracoke with Cheyenne of fond memory.

We rented a room at Pam’s Pelican bed and breakfast which is pet friendly of course. From that visit grew the notion that a winter break in Ocracoke might be enjoyable, tucked up in a small community defying storms and cold and all that wintry fantasy. We never did it, until now. 

My brother in law in Asheville wanted us present for his wedding anniversary December 31st. Aside from slowing our planned departure for Mexico right after Thanksgiving this also required us to spend four weeks in December in the southeastern United States. Which was awkward as neither of us enjoys the cold and being bottled up in a van in the cold seemed dismal. Layne had a brilliant idea: do the long postponed winter rental in Ocracoke. 

She found a cottage that looked perfect in the village at $160 a night everything included. We were skeptical but figured how bad could it be? Actually it is perfect and it’s ours until December 27th. 

The Outer Banks are a long string of barrier islands, near a hundred miles long depending how you measure them, sticking out from North Carolina. They regularly get beaten up by storms and full blown hurricanes and because they are sand dunes their shapes and inlets do get altered from time to time.

Ocracoke is the southernmost inhabited community and is a full blown island. It’s connected by two ferries to the mainland. One goes due west to Swan Quarter and a three hour crossing. The one we took goes to the south to Cedar Island on a two hour crossing and costs just $15 for a car. The ferry connecting Ocracoke to Hatteras in the north is free and runs almost continuously in the busy summer season. 

Approaching from Wilmington where we spent the night at Cracker Barrel, Layne did the rounds buying her favorite treats at Trader Joe’s, Costco, Walmart and ABC spirits to stock up for ten days in a large kitchen in a real house. Some eating out, some fresh local stuff and things that Layne loves to cook, will keep us all happy on cold winter evenings.

North Carolina Highway 12 runs the length of the Outer Banks but also forms the approach road to the Cedar Island ferry terminal. It’s mostly straight and flat with some few fairly spectacular bridges giving views across the marshes. 

This is desolate countryside, a few small fishing communities, working class America on the edge of the continent.  It’s as distant in some respects as the Keys but whereas the tropical island chain is massively developed in a string of businesses and homes, this region is positively bucolic. 

An easy back country drive. The speed limit is 55 but I pootled along at barely 50, alone on the road enjoying the winter views. 

We had reserved a spot at the campground next to the ferry terminal. We don’t often use organized campgrounds but we plugged in and ran our space heater to keep the 40 degree windy night at bay. We shared the field with half a dozen others scattered far and wide. I emptied the toilet, filled the water tank (not at once), got rid of our trash and all that to feel like we were getting our money’s worth! 

The Cedar Island Ranch is dedicated to tourist pleasure with tours and horses and the chance to take a day trip to Ocracoke Island. This time of year it’s all very low key. 

I don’t think Rusty had ever seen cold weather before he came to live with us. That summer of 2016 he was enjoying views of the St Lawrence river in cold damp Québec!

Since then he has come to prefer cool weather and he had a grand time leading me through the crisp cold sunset light around the ferry terminal. 

In keeping with our policy of getting value for money I took a hot shower in the functional but, shall we say spartan, unheated shower block. Everything worked well but it was pretty stark on a cold December morning. Plus it was a long trudge from space 36! It all worked out. 

I figure the trailers in the corner were local residents possibly. It seemed rather bleak for a vacation, but what do I know? Maybe the fishing is brilliant. 

Hot shower followed by a hot cuppa Yorkshire Gold. I was ready to fiddle with cold water, our hoses and the water tank all out in the fresh cold air. Van life is not always for wimps. 

It will be a cold day in Hell before Rusty agrees to cooperate with the camera. Here he is playing Calvin, of Calvin and Hobbes and the saga of Christmas family photos.

I loved that comic strip. I love my dog too but sometimes he’s too smart for his own britches, as my wife says when she feels like mixing her metaphors. 

It’s a two hour crossing which even Webb Chiles would have found dull. The ferry rolled slightly which neither Rusty nor I enjoyed especially as we moved along at 13 mph (I have a speed app). Rusty looked nervous which when I reported that fact to Webb killed off any hopes of Rusty being whisked off to sea to keep Webb company. I had matzo and Marmite to ward off the tedium of sitting still. Then we gave GANNET2 a spruce up as we waited for Ocracoke to appear. 

It’s a full two hour and fifteen minute crossing according to the literature and it does get a bit slow especially when the channel markers appear and you get ready to disembark. But you don’t get there for a good long while. You just keep chugging along. This is real island life where you get home by using  a ferry. 

That’s the village of Ocracoke on the horizon. Before the 16th century Woccon Indians on the mainland used “Wokokon” island as a fish camp until Sir Walter Raleigh showed up around 1585 and from there Europeans started the business of settling. In 1715 the colonial government decided to put a C pilot station on the island as the channel was a major commercial waterway but impossible to navigate safely. The sandy bottom kept shifting then as it does today. In fact low tides prevented the early morning ferry leaving from Cedar Island when we were waiting. They told us shoaling canceled the 7:30 sailing and it took me pondering the problem out loud for sailor Webb Chiles to point out the influence of tides. Duh! 

They call it Silver Lake, formerly Cockle Creek, which makes a pleasant waterfront for the village and a secure anchorage for boats. 

The Swan Quarter ferry arrived before us and we pulled into the dock alongside. 

The landing area is huge with room for long lines, lots of parking for a museum and national park offices. Most of the island is national park property which keeps development strictly within the village. The distance from the ferry landing to the northern ferry to Hatteras is 14 miles and on the ocean side it’s all beach. 

We hadn’t yet received a text from the realty company so we had some time to kill before moving into the house. I knew where I wanted to go. For a drive! 

Many of the restaurants are closed in winter. But not all of them. There are about seven hundred permanent residents on Ocracoke with 300 rental properties. Sounds like a familiar problem. The statisticians say the cost of living here is higher than average. The usual island problems no doubt. Highway 12 northbound toward the Hatteras ferry terminal: 

The ponies, which are descendants of island work horses were on display in their paddock so it was a good time to stop by for a portrait. Check: 

Layne cooked up some oatmeal for lunch and just as soon as she got the ingredients wet she got the fatal text: the house was ready for us. 

This is the beach in winter. Leashed dogs permitted. I guess we’re set. 

Rainy Day At The Beach

The good news about rain is that temperatures rise. I think most people living in a van would rather have the cold crisp sunny winter days that usually arrive after the rain front passes. 

I forget who it was but some wise person pointed out to me that snow is not a problem if you dress properly but rain stops play. I remain a mortal enemy of snow but rain is no friend of mine either. However I am not inclined to surrender my life to the elements now that I’m retired so I put on a poncho, took my weather resistant G95 Panasonic camera and took the dog for a walk.

The poncho by Frog Toggs is brilliant.  I used to use the same brand of waterproofs on my motorcycle as they never made me sweat and the poncho was actually quite comfortable even when the rain stopped. I have that effect on the weather, I defy it and it calms down. 

At first the beach access baffled me. We had already followed Google maps into a dead end before locating the street parking. Then I poked around and damn me if I couldn’t find the way to the beach. I felt, once again, like the family imbecile. I was too embarrassed to return to interrupt Layne busy with her physical therapy shoulder exercises only seconds after I had left. 

I figured young Rusty might like to help me out of my embarrassment and go for a street walk instead, allowing me to return to the valiantly exercising wife only after a decent interval had passed. That was when I discovered the way forward. 

It said beach access and I needed no more encouragement; I’m pretty swift when I need to be. The endless litany of rules and regulations I figured could wait for another day when I might be feeling less impatient. I knew leashed dogs are allowed so we were good to go; the rest of the stuff can be boiled down to use your common sense and if you screw up you’re on your own. We girded our loins and started on the hike to the far distant beach at our own risk. 

It an impressive boardwalk, perfectly made and endlessly long. It even had passing places along the way. Maybe they were observation platforms but there wasn’t a great deal to observe. South Carolina’s state line cuts across the beach a couple of miles south of here: 

A variation of love locks adorned a small wind blown pine. Charming or  debris, you decide. 

Eventually the boardwalk ran out in a long ramp. It was not, I should point out, a good day for a swim. The air was 65 degrees and very windy. The water looked frigid and unfriendly. Layne wasn’t missing anything. 

I had read about a couple who used to own the land here who put a mailbox on the beach in about 1965 and left notebooks and pens for people to leave their thoughts as “kindred spirits” enjoying the wild lonely beach. I had a slight hope Rusty might care for a real walk but my hopes were dashed. 

He took one look at the endless sand and said no thanks. He fig his paws in the sand and started staring at me real hard. That means no. I surrendered. 

Despite the endless signs and rules and stuff I liked the beach and the wild windy atmosphere and perhaps the notices work because the place was spotless. 

We trudged back and I was sorry to leave so quickly but Rusty is no fun to walk when he gets a motion in his head. Middle age makes him ornery. 

Looking north behind the beach across the wild dunes: 

These rental houses remind me of the “rent machines” towering over parts of Ocracoke Village.  It’s odd how it’s a beach style only seen in North Carolina. Pilings all the way up to the rooftop widows’ walk and very often narrow buildings piled up apartment on top of apartment. 

I took a chair out of the van and sat down to read overlooking the marsh. Rusty was ready to go home and he sat in the van also waiting for Layne to finish her physical therapy exercises. 

Lunch was cooked oatmeal as rain lashed GANNET2 and the wind rocked the van and whistled round us. 

Time to go to Wilmington.