Hatteras Island, North Carolina: Sun, sand, & (almost) Surfing
The Road to Hatteras Island
Two weeks ago I went on a solo beach trip to Outer Banks NC.
I spent the first day driving in the rain – trees, hills, and valleys whiz by all around me, but the thick, voluminous, wet fog keeps distractions to a minimum. Amid the slow travel and slippery conditions, I find myself slipping into deep meditation.
It’s easy sleeping in my car; waking up in the woods outside Staunton, VA, I continue onward towards the beach.
Strawberries are my favorite fruit (now at the peak of their season) so I make a pit stop at Hickory Ridge Farm. Crouching and crawling down the row, I pick as many strawberries as I can – it reminds me of my childhood, the one summer in Hollidaysburg I picked for Baronner’s farm market.
After an hour I march out proudly with my loot – left hand on the wheel, right hand buried in the bag of berries; my hand and face turn dark red from my insatiable craving.
Looking out the window, a grin crosses my face as I spy the first glimpse of the ocean – I still have a few hours until I reach my destination, but I’m exactly where I need to be…
I marvel at the drive down the narrow sliver of land between the Sound and the Atlantic Ocean; I’ve never been to OBX before, and I’m taken aback by industrial electrical poles lining one side, towering sand dunes on the other.
*Finally* I pull into spot #P63 at Frisco Campground; I find my name posted on a flat metal stake stuck beside a picnic table and a charcoal grill. It was the last spot when I booked the site – but with a view of the ocean and the comfort of the natural, protected landscape, I also decide it’s the BEST spot.
Minutes later – the car engine not even cooled down yet – I’m grounding myself at the beach. Marching, trudging, I finally cross a vast expanse of sand – there’s no solid footing, and I feel like a robot learning to walk for the first time.
I walk down the shoreline to nowhere, nothing but a pair of shorts on, and watch the sun fall behind lingering grey clouds on the horizon.
Looking down at my feet; a dark, spiraling conch shell has been freshly summoned from the lapping, yapping waves.
I remember that LIFE IS GOOD!
(aLmost) Surfing Cape Hatteras
Ultimately, I came to go surfing
I’ve gone one other time (this past December in Puerto Rico) but I still don’t know anything about anything. Luckily @natural_art_surf_shop hooks me up with a 9ft foam board.
I study the small, underwhelming waves for hours – nonetheless I have a board, ready to pounce on the slightest inkling of a ride-able wave.
I return the board after two days, thinking “there’s no waves to ride on this trip.”
But two hours later dark clouds loom out over the ocean – on the beach the sun sears my skin.
I walk into the water to cool off, but suddenly find myself diving through huge curling waves; perfect, powerful barrels.
I can surf these waves!
“Screw it,” I run back to the car and pick up the surfboard again…
My mind is spinning – not how a surfer should be out on the waves. I sit on the surfboard and meditate to mentally prepare myself…
Tall waves curl and pound downward. White, agitated water rushes over me. The lifeless surfboard buoys itself the best it can.
I’m desperate to swim through the messy water, but it’s three steps forward, two steps back. My throat was feeling dry, but not anymore!
Finally I’m perched upright on the board, bouncing up and down over huge rocking waves. Suddenly, I find myself scared for the /second/ time this trip!
The first time was when I parked overnight along Coal Road in Staunton (Sasquatch was definitely watching me).
But now I’m 50 yards off-shore in deep, dark green water, with roaring, foaming waves crashing and swirling all around me.
I gather my wits, find my center-of-balance, and try riding a few waves…
But as soon as they came is how soon they’re gone – back to the small, messy, washy waves I’m used to.
I learn summer isn’t the ideal time for surfing – spring and fall are.
The whole trip, I only saw one other surfer…
OBX Adventures
Sticky, stagnant, humid air
The sun breaches the horizon, brightly greeting me through the fogged window
It’s 5:55am; the start of a brand new day – a brand new life, if you want!
Stepping outside for fresh air, I watch a huge smile cross my face – I’m at the beach!
I slide a sandy surfboard into my car, poking the imaginary passenger in the front seat. Gritty sand crumbs fall into my sleeping bag and pillows – it makes no difference to me
Soon, with hot-coffee-in-hand, I imagine each sip opening up and clearing out the channels of my body
Off Exit 43 the cape flares out into the water, perfectly catching the rising sun. I watch the light shatter on the undulating water, every endless wave sparkling in my eye; a raw, unsuspecting psychedelic show put on by the natural world
The lack of surfing prompted other adventures; I drive endlessly between Frisco, Buxton, and Avon, looking for the local, unique pulse of this reticent island:
-At the Hatteras Island farmer’s market, I meet some inspiring artists, talk the trade, and learn a new (old) form of art made from colored beeswax, called eucaustic art
-For lunch I drive to @stickybproduce for a handful of juicy peaches. Across the street at @leerobinsongeneralstore I’m a sucker for homemade fudge – “one of each flavor please,” a pound in total
-I meet the owner of maker-space Studio 12; an artistic, business-minded woman, she founded one of the first cupcake bakeries in the nation – at one point, she had customers driving from over 2 hours away!
-I signed up for a @shakerising yoga class with @thespace.nc. They ask if I read the class description, and I reply, “Yeah, it looks different, but I’m excited to try something new.” The practice was great; screenshotting the class description afterward, I see something I didn’t notice before: “Adult Women Only!” The class dynamic makes more sense to me now, but it just goes to show how welcoming @thespace.nc really is!
The whole experience felt like a Kerouac novel
But everything must come to an end – good and bad – and I get kicked out of Frisco Campgrounds at noon
I’m headed back to the mountains
Relax…
I can’t give it up…
The hot sun frying my tanned skin, that is – windows are down on the highway heading back from Hatteras Island. It’s a sign I’ve got >nothing< going on.
Without a care in the world (and for the first time) I’m the one getting passed in the right lane
What’s the rush? Right now is all that exists!
Take a deep inhale
Take a deep exhale
Relllaaaaaaaaxxxxxx……
Notice the beauty and wonder around you!
/Wide ranges of blue-ridge mountains and thirsty tracts of Shenandoah river valleys/
/Unmarked backroads winding through dense woodlands leading who-knows-where/
/Quaint farms and local markets, selling fresh eggs, raw honey, and homemade trinkets/
/Fellow travelers you see but never talk to – unopened books, untold stories far crazier than any fiction novel you could ever write – just wandering around in plain sight/
Father Sun throws its rays upon Mother Earth. The damp, dreary landscape I knew from the drive down is now bright, fertile, cheerful, and radiant green
An amazing life is yours, right here, right now – you just have to believe it
