After a horrific night of no sleep and mosquitoes, I was ready for the ferry. Bonus! the visitor center had coffee, so I promptly finished their pot. Then walked out to the sound to dip my feet in the water. It's crazy, I had forgotten since I was told in 8th grade, but the sound is shallow, like really shallow, for miles. I walked out nearly a quarter mile from the ferry landing and was still only up to my knees! The water is eerily still for what you think should be ocean water too.
I came back in to the landing as I saw the ferry coming over the horizon. This area is truly beautiful. So calm and peaceful. Relaxing, completely masquerading the vampiric mosquito haven it becomes once the sun sets.
The ferry ride to ocracoke was a fast 2 and a half hours. I met a lot of people on that ferry ride. A motorcycling police officer from Colorado on his second cross country trip. He mentioned that the outer banks was one of his favorite places in all of the country.
A business executive on vacation. An inventive fellow that had a folding bicycle that fir all into a small bag. 3parts locked in to form the frame, put on the wheels, and bam! Functional bicycle. He was particularly interested in my trip and the ability for humans to overcome any challenge. I shared some of my experiences thus far, the first full day, getting lost in Saluda, not being able to shower through 5 days of riding, trekking through NC, and the people I had met along the way.
Some cyclists came with us onto the ferry as well, they were there making a day trip of it, getting on the outer banks for the day, visiting Okracoke, and then heading to Manteo the next day. One of them had been riding in every state in the US, save for Alaska, which he was getting to soon.
I also briefly chatted with the waitress from the previous day, who was also going to Okracoke for the day.
She was cute.
I also had some time on the ferry to walk around, nothing but ocean all around us for all the eye could see, it was at this time that I really started to think of what it would be like to own a sailboat and just cruise the seas for weeks on end.
I also got to thinking about my dog. I was starting to really miss seeing her all excited to see me, and throwing the ball for hours until I was tired, but of course not her. I wished I could have taken her with me, running alongside all the way like she did back in Boone. But, there was no way she could have endured this trip.
We finally got to Okracoke, it was a small town at the bottom of the island. It was surprisingly old timey feeling, unlike the touristy feel of Myrtle Beach that I had grown accustomed to. A small, quaint town in the middle of the ocean, like a small fishing town. It was beautiful, everyone seemed happy and excited to be here. My kind of town, small, by the beach. I could live here. And that feeling only became stronger as I went further down the island.
I toured the lighthouse, the first one I'd been able to see on my trip. It was smaller than I expected, just barely reaching over the rooftops. You could walk right up to it but couldn't go in. There's actually still a couple that lives in the old lighthouse. Pretty cool. A couple asked me to take some photos, we talked a bit. A nearly toothless guy with a gorgeous wife, I wondered what their story was. They were down here from Delaware, for the first time ever and they were in love with the place. Everyone was in love with it. They were on their way down the Carolina coast. I told them about the ferry ride and the long stretch of road that felt like desert back on Cedar island.
Then I was on my way. After the town, there's basically nothing on the island. The road and the powerlines that connect Okracoke to Hatteras. The dunes on the right, blocking off the surging sea, and the sound on the left. It's such a narrow island, had it not been for the dunes, you could see the water on both sides of the island for almost all of the 10 miles.
I came to the first public beach access and felt compelled to get in the water. So I leaned the bike by the sign. There were some serious looking signs about riptides, that I quickly pondered over and then headed towards the sea. It was like any other beach I had ever seen. The water SLAMMED against the shore, and quickly surged up the beach, then RIPPED back into the sea within a fraction of a second. It was ruthless and relentless, angry that this, this island dared to be in it's way. It was an onslaught, no wonder another name for it is a barrier island.
I walked right in, and was promptly attacked by the angry waves. But it felt so good, the sand giving way underneath my toes. The water rising up above my knees and sucking me in further. I could see why there were so many warnings of riptides. I and one other sunning couple were the only people on the beach. Untainted. Pristine.
Off I went, back down the road. The day was hot when you weren't being immersed in water. The wind was quiet, silenced by the towering dunes. The next stop was the Okracoke ponies. It first seemed like a non-event. No ponies in sight, just some stables in the not too distant distance. The story was interesting though.
A Spanish ship, left shipwrecked near Okracoke. The crew marooned on the island for a time, they leave via another boat and have to leave their horses. The horses settle and adapt to the island, becoming smaller, and thrive! Man comes back to the island, sees the ponies and eventually redomesticates them. Today, a handful of the ponies continue to be stabled as a feature of the island.
I saw a wooden path to the right, and having no obligations for the day, only to get to Hatteras, I explored it. It took me through a wooded area and up a ramp to a viewing post and there they were, in clear sight, all just standing there, grazing and resting, not but 50 feet in front of the viewpoint. They were pygmy horses! So I stood there, enjoyed them for a moment, noted the sound just passed, them. Dumbfounded how this small island was able to support them for hundreds of years. I rode back down the wooded path and mentioned the location of the horses to a family with two small children that were absolutely excited to see these small horses. I rode down the road, the distance just flew by quickly. The ten miles felt like four. And before I knew it, I was on the ferry again, chatting with some more day-tripping cyclists.
I came back in to the landing as I saw the ferry coming over the horizon. This area is truly beautiful. So calm and peaceful. Relaxing, completely masquerading the vampiric mosquito haven it becomes once the sun sets.
The ferry ride to ocracoke was a fast 2 and a half hours. I met a lot of people on that ferry ride. A motorcycling police officer from Colorado on his second cross country trip. He mentioned that the outer banks was one of his favorite places in all of the country.
A business executive on vacation. An inventive fellow that had a folding bicycle that fir all into a small bag. 3parts locked in to form the frame, put on the wheels, and bam! Functional bicycle. He was particularly interested in my trip and the ability for humans to overcome any challenge. I shared some of my experiences thus far, the first full day, getting lost in Saluda, not being able to shower through 5 days of riding, trekking through NC, and the people I had met along the way.
Some cyclists came with us onto the ferry as well, they were there making a day trip of it, getting on the outer banks for the day, visiting Okracoke, and then heading to Manteo the next day. One of them had been riding in every state in the US, save for Alaska, which he was getting to soon.
I also briefly chatted with the waitress from the previous day, who was also going to Okracoke for the day.
She was cute.
I also had some time on the ferry to walk around, nothing but ocean all around us for all the eye could see, it was at this time that I really started to think of what it would be like to own a sailboat and just cruise the seas for weeks on end.
I also got to thinking about my dog. I was starting to really miss seeing her all excited to see me, and throwing the ball for hours until I was tired, but of course not her. I wished I could have taken her with me, running alongside all the way like she did back in Boone. But, there was no way she could have endured this trip.
We finally got to Okracoke, it was a small town at the bottom of the island. It was surprisingly old timey feeling, unlike the touristy feel of Myrtle Beach that I had grown accustomed to. A small, quaint town in the middle of the ocean, like a small fishing town. It was beautiful, everyone seemed happy and excited to be here. My kind of town, small, by the beach. I could live here. And that feeling only became stronger as I went further down the island.
I toured the lighthouse, the first one I'd been able to see on my trip. It was smaller than I expected, just barely reaching over the rooftops. You could walk right up to it but couldn't go in. There's actually still a couple that lives in the old lighthouse. Pretty cool. A couple asked me to take some photos, we talked a bit. A nearly toothless guy with a gorgeous wife, I wondered what their story was. They were down here from Delaware, for the first time ever and they were in love with the place. Everyone was in love with it. They were on their way down the Carolina coast. I told them about the ferry ride and the long stretch of road that felt like desert back on Cedar island.
Then I was on my way. After the town, there's basically nothing on the island. The road and the powerlines that connect Okracoke to Hatteras. The dunes on the right, blocking off the surging sea, and the sound on the left. It's such a narrow island, had it not been for the dunes, you could see the water on both sides of the island for almost all of the 10 miles.
I came to the first public beach access and felt compelled to get in the water. So I leaned the bike by the sign. There were some serious looking signs about riptides, that I quickly pondered over and then headed towards the sea. It was like any other beach I had ever seen. The water SLAMMED against the shore, and quickly surged up the beach, then RIPPED back into the sea within a fraction of a second. It was ruthless and relentless, angry that this, this island dared to be in it's way. It was an onslaught, no wonder another name for it is a barrier island.
I walked right in, and was promptly attacked by the angry waves. But it felt so good, the sand giving way underneath my toes. The water rising up above my knees and sucking me in further. I could see why there were so many warnings of riptides. I and one other sunning couple were the only people on the beach. Untainted. Pristine.
Off I went, back down the road. The day was hot when you weren't being immersed in water. The wind was quiet, silenced by the towering dunes. The next stop was the Okracoke ponies. It first seemed like a non-event. No ponies in sight, just some stables in the not too distant distance. The story was interesting though.
A Spanish ship, left shipwrecked near Okracoke. The crew marooned on the island for a time, they leave via another boat and have to leave their horses. The horses settle and adapt to the island, becoming smaller, and thrive! Man comes back to the island, sees the ponies and eventually redomesticates them. Today, a handful of the ponies continue to be stabled as a feature of the island.
I saw a wooden path to the right, and having no obligations for the day, only to get to Hatteras, I explored it. It took me through a wooded area and up a ramp to a viewing post and there they were, in clear sight, all just standing there, grazing and resting, not but 50 feet in front of the viewpoint. They were pygmy horses! So I stood there, enjoyed them for a moment, noted the sound just passed, them. Dumbfounded how this small island was able to support them for hundreds of years. I rode back down the wooded path and mentioned the location of the horses to a family with two small children that were absolutely excited to see these small horses. I rode down the road, the distance just flew by quickly. The ten miles felt like four. And before I knew it, I was on the ferry again, chatting with some more day-tripping cyclists.
No comments:
Post a Comment