Rescue and such
September 28, 2009

Today I risked life and limb (or at least being thought a fool) to save a turtle from certain destruction from compression, the result often referred to as turtle pancake. There we were driving right along and there he was crossing the road in the opposite lane. “Turtle, turtle!” I cleverly blurted out, and back we went, quickly reversing in the same lane until we were next to said creature.

I jumped out to effect the rescue, thinking that if another vehicle approached, Chris could drive away and leave me alone with my new friend. My new friend, however, had other ideas about my plan. As I ran around in front of the truck and into the other lane, Mr. Turtle appeared to attack, charging straight at me. He startled me so that I missed my grab. The not-so-slow-poke then commenced to gallop. I swear he made an amazing clatter, clatter, clatter as he hightailed it across the pavement to disappear under the truck.

That’s when I looked up to notice that a line of cars has stopped behind us. I’m not sure if they were laughing hysterically at my antics, but it seems like a good bet. I’m was still in the middle of the road peering under the Toter for the turtle, then tried the other side, peering under there for the turtle. At long last (probably not as long as it seemed), I spied him behind me galumphing off into the brush, no doubt grumbling about not being allowed to cross the road.

Needless to say, I didn’t get a picture of that hardshell, but I got a nice shot of one we saw on another day. The portrait subject was back in the woods on a partially submerged dirt road. I shall digress as to the reason for the road’s underwater status by paraphrasing the old song, “Oh, Susannah” - “It rained all night the day I came; the weather it was wet.” Truthfully, it only rained some the first night we were here, deluged the entire second night and squalled positive buckets on and off yesterday.



Hatteras lighthouse . . .

Today is the first blue day we’ve seen - clear and windy enough that a long walk on the beach is tantamount to a full-body exfoliation. Not loving the skin we began the day with, we went ahead. The surf was very different than other days, all of them with pretty darn impressive seas.

My first afternoon, I walked, read, lolled and sat on the beach until the gale force blast coated every strand of my hair with salt enough to make it all stand straight out behind me, and to coat my spectacles to the point that I barely found my way home. Oddly enough, I found the afternoon to be absolutely exhilarating (unlike today that just hurt).

One day, we climbed to the top of the Cape Hatteras lighthouse, but were barred from venturing out the doorway onto the upper balcony because of combined rain and wind. I find it necessary to keep pinching myself to know I am actually on the Outer Banks (OBX as it’s referred to locally) in general and on Hatteras Island in particular.

These places have been so much a part of history and lore that it is a bit disorienting. The beaches are incredible, and what a great time to be here - no crowds or traffic, which they say is a bit daunting at high season.

This lighthouse was moved in 1999 to save it from an eroding shoreline. We learned some things we hadn’t known, such as that each lighthouse is painted its own distinctive pattern so that they can be distinguished from each other by day, for example, Hatteras is spiraled while another is diamond patterned. At night, they have their own light pattern to broadcast.

It’s interesting that the names of the early lighthouse keepers are the same names we see of many folks who have remained on the island. One of the common family names here is Farrow; one of the early keepers with that surname had the first name of Pharaoh (this was in the early 1800s, so we can’t blame it on those little hippie mamas of the 60s).

Wind surfing, kite boarding, surfing,
fishing . . .

I’ve sorted out the kite thing. Kitty Hawk kites are a brand, not a type. The major local sports are wind surfing, where one stands on a board holding onto its attached sail that propels a person zipping across the water, and kite boarding, in which the athlete has his feet placed into straps on a board and is transported again with wind power but in this case via a partial-parachute-type sail that is far above him. They both take great strength and agility and are fun to watch. The wind surfers look like so many single butterfly wings flitting across the water. The kite boarders do acrobatics like leaping and twirling in the air and coming back down on their feet (best case scenario).

The Sound is the primary place for those activities with its waist-deep warm water (at least near shore). I suppose it deepens farther out, but haven’t sorted all these things out yet. There is also the more well-known surfing and tons of fishing, both Sound- and surf-side. The beaches are dotted with fisherpeople: their extra-length poles anchored into white PVC pipes stuck vertically into the sand. One sees vehicles everywhere with various apparati(?) for carrying the long poles and other equipment. They stand vertically in front or behind the trucks looking like giant insect antennas. We’ve watched quite a few folks pulling in their catches throughout the day.

There are quite a few surfers on the surfside (naturally), but swimmers nil or nearly so. I have no idea if the rough seas are normal or unusual as a result of the wind. Perhaps we shall learn that later.

On my first afternoon, I was awestruck at the magnificent breakers. Just then, a woman about my age (okay, not so young anymore) who advanced across the sand in her swim suit and walked into the water. I was almost afraid to sit on the sand and she was going into the water??? At first, all was well. She was about knee deep and even that was forceful. I watched her slowly proceed and survive the first wave. Then came the second one, which knocked her flat and caused her brain to begin to operate once again. Out of the water she came, across the beach on her way back to safe climes. As she passed me, she noted, “Too strong” in what had to be the understatement of the century.

Drinking water, RVs . . .

The drinking water here is putrid, so declares Chris. I wouldn’t know because I gave up drinking the local water long ago while traveling. It’s the only time I use bottled water, just can’t stomach the various smells and tastes. Chris is perpetually just fine with all of them, until now, so I know this one must be especially noxious.

We toured a fifth-wheel here in the park because the owner, Elaine, practically insisted. It is very nearly the same as that owned by Frank & Pat, but with one major floor plan divergence. Beautiful and functional, especially when compared to our amazing shrinking trailer. It was a Heartland-manufactured RV, which was sponsoring a rally here. I liked it . . . a lot.

WWII off Hatteras . . .

One of my discoveries (Encyclopedic partner, E.P. already knew this of course) was about the spring of 1942, when German U-boats sank just about one ship per day for several months off the coast here, in addition to the mayhem they were creating all along the coast. The British stepped in to assist and in the process, also lost ships to them.

The reason this subject surfaced (no pun intended) was a marker I saw leading to the graves of some British sailors. That was odd enough that I had to find out what it was about. We stopped to venture into the brush to see what was there. We found two graves, one for an unknown Brit, the other named, but before we could continue into the outback where the others are interred, we were attacked by mosquitoes of a size I didn’t know existed and in gargantuan numbers. I fought back long enough to photograph the beautiful turtle that we spotted, but then ran for cover. Unfortunately, a sizable number of the monsters followed us into the truck, where we were forced to launch a counteroffensive.

Birds . . .

We’ve spotted the usual shore birds - sanderlings, willets, blackbellied plovers and ruddy turnstones - three gulls - herring, laughing and great black-backed (a new one for us) and three terns - royal, Caspian and common (also a life bird), in addition to two gorgeous kestrel hawks soaring over the dunes behind the beach.