Category Archives: RV travel

“Affordable Florida” in the Toronto Star

This past fall we were jonesing for a camping/RV fix – we are really missing our Class B Leisure Travel van! We travelled to the Florida Gulf Coast, rented a 25-ft Class C from Cruise America and got a taste of camping in a larger unit. The 25-ft was the smallest size in their rental fleet.

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A few things we noticed:

  1. We love the RV experience, but we are definitely Class B people. Easier to park, drive, etc. We liked having the extra work surfaces for writing, etc in the larger unit. But overall, still Class B at heart!
  2. The beaches and camping along the Florida Gulf Coast are great. We especially loved Koreshan State Historic Site just outside Fort Myers. An “Old Florida style” camping experience is the best way to describe it.
  3. The Canadian loonie may be dropping but the gas prices in the U.S. are as well. On the drive down we paid as little as $1.73 USD/gallon. In Florida the prices were generally just under the $2 mark. RVing is an economical way to stay – we cooked our own meals, napped during the day and enjoyed the wonderful state parks.
  4. Florida still has lots of natural space to explore. We really enjoyed the cypress virgin forest at Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary (about 45 minutes from Fort Myers and worth every mile).

After we returned, we published the following piece in the Toronto Star travel section:

How to have an affordable trip to the Florida Gulf Coast | Toronto Star

You can find the direct link here: http://www.thestar.com/life/travel/2016/01/15/how-to-have-an-affordable-trip-to-the-florida-gulf-coast.html

Macon: “Something in the water”

Travelling from north to south our focus was on sticking as close to the coastline as possible and experiencing everything that is unique about where salt water meets land  – from shrimp boats to lighthouses to incredible stretches of wild beach.

Once we hit the borderline at Georgia-Florida, we bounced back northward, but on the return trip we headed inland, looking for music destinations and regional food highlights. Boy, did we ever find a goldmine at the small city of Macon, Georgia!

There’s a word for it: SYNERGY. It’s that magic moment when – for reasons no one fully understands – the total is greater than the sum of its parts. This happens all the time, but occasionally breaks out with transformative impact. Macon is one of those places where – at a particular moment – big things happened because the stars aligned.

It brings to mind the establishment of Capricorn Records in 1969 and the recording of the first Allman Brothers Band album. Although not a commercial success at the time, the record has since come to be seen, in the words of one critic, as “the best debut album ever delivered by an American blues band, a bold, powerful, hard-edged, soulful essay in electric blues with a native Southern ambience.” More to the point, the record put Macon on the map as the preferred destination for what would come to the called Southern Rock.

Craig savoured the displays at The Big House, a lovingly curated collection of thousands of articles – instruments, clothing, hand-written lyrics, posters, tickets and rooms of furnishings. The Big House is the spiritual and actual home of the original Allman Brothers Band – the members lived and worked from here communally in the early 1970s. It is now a museum of all things ABB.

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But Macon has other claims to boast too: it’s the city that birthed Little Richard and Otis Redding. This is an incredible amount of world-class talent for such a small city (population: 90,000). The locals like to joke that “it must be something in the water.”

Of Otis Redding there is much to say. He died at the peak of his considerable power, age 26, when his plane went down en route to a gig. But the 300 songs in his catalogue and the stamp he put onto R&B and soul music have long out-lived him. It’s ironic that his best-known song – (Sittin’ On) The Dock Of The Bay – is so unlike most of the other songs in his catalogue, and that he never got to perform it. The plane crash that took his life was a mere three days after he recorded the piece. It was his biggest hit and his first million seller. But you have to see a performance, perhaps from his tour of the United Kingdom, of Try A Little Tenderness so see how this man could bring an audience to frenzy.

We had the chance to sit down with Redding’s daughter, Karla Redding, who reminisced about her dad. “My favourite piece is Love Man,” she said. “Because it’s a pure description of the man he was.” Karla spoke of his commitment to family first and foremost and his obsession with ice cream (especially butter pecan). After we left the Otis Redding Foundation and Mini-Museum we went to the waterfront to see the statue of Redding.

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“Little Richard,” Wayne Penniman, is authoritatively one of the founders of rock ’n’ roll. In his induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, Ringo Starr jokingly blames “Little Richard” – for whom they opened in Hamburg – for the sound and stage energy of The Beatles. No less a figure than Mick Jagger claimed that he “couldn’t believe the power of Little Richard onstage. He was amazing.” Richard’s life story exceeds anything in fiction: he veers in and out of several near encounters with death, finds Jesus, loses him, finds him again and is condemned and honoured along the way for being so far ahead of his time. At this point in time there is no Macon museum dedicated to Little Richard . . . but, who knows what’s coming soon?

We finished up our incredible Macon stay at the H&H Soul Food Restaurant. The H&H was a favourite of “starving musicians” who found friendly faces (and meals) in the original co-owners “Mama” Inez and “Mama” Louise. It’s a Macon institution, an authentic “meat & three” as these traditional Southern eateries are called. The menus offer a meat – from meatloaf to fried chicken – and a choice of three sides (mac & cheese, fried okra, sweet potatoes, collards, etc.). The Allman Brothers members ate here as did Otis Redding when he was a member of Johnny Jenkins’ Pinetoppers.  The locals like to call the women who founded the H&H “the Matriarchs of Macon’s historical music scene.”

Topped it all off with a great overnight at the Lake Tobesofkee Arrowhead Campground just 15 minutes outside of town. Spotlessly clean, well maintained sites and dark, dark, dark at night.

South Carolina’s beautiful Lowcountry

Spoiler alert: There is nothing we didn’t like about the Lowcountry just outside Beaufort called the Sea Islands, a collection of small islands huddled together, separated by tidal creeks and connected by short bridges.

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The definite highlight was our stay at beautiful Hunting Island State Park – we loved it so much that we extended our visit for an additional five days. We’d set our alarm to a pre-sunrise hour, walk five minutes to the beach and be there for the sunrise over the Atlantic. In the distance there were shrimp boats (no doubt harvesting our dinner that evening). Rigby was fascinated by the small fiddler crabs scuttling along the sand (South Carolina beaches are on-leash dog friendly). The beach is long and luxurious, anchored by a lighthouse at one end and a sweeping curve of sand at the far reach. The early morning sun cast a warm glow on the palmetto palms that line the back of the dunes. It set up each day perfectly.

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In addition to the natural beauty of the Lowcountry, this region is steeped in history.

There is a long tradition of shrimping. We’d stop at Gay Fish Co. (just at the bridge from St. Helena Island to Hunting Island) to buy the freshest shrimp we’d ever tasted. Half-a-dozen shrimp boats were tied to the rickety docks. Inside, the woman weighing our daily ration told us their docks stood in for the Alabama coastline in the filming of the shrimping scenes in the hit movie, Forrest Gump. On the wall there’s a framed photo of Tom Hanks and Gary Sinise playing out a scene from the movie.

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We visited the Penn Center Historic District, preserving the Gullah community on St. Helena Island. The Gullah people – the descendants of enslaved Africans – are known for their unique culture and traditions imported from West Africa (including the weaving of beautiful sweetgrass baskets). Before bridges were built, these islands were isolated and the culture was protected and thrived. Gullah culture is all over the Sea Islands, but the Center is the only spot where the buildings remain intact and protected as a National Historic Site. When the program at the site opened it was the first school in the nation to provide formal education for freed African slaves; a path to liberation. Over time, the focus shifted to civil rights and social justice issues. Now, the Center is a part of the National Park Service’s Gullah Geechee Cultural Heritage Corridor, preserving this unique culture, traditions and heritage.

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One of our favourite meals was at the modest Gullah Grub Restaurant. Our lunch started with squares of rich cornbread, still warm from the oven, and glasses of “swamp water” (a mix of sweet tea and lemonade, called an Arnold Palmer on the mainland). Traditional Gullah dishes are based on whatever is seasonally available – rice, tomatoes, okra, fish. We ate local: a starter of she-crab soup, barbecue ribs and fried chicken with a side of collards doused with vinegar for some extra tang.

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We’ll be back . . . again and again and again.

Beaufort . . . is amazing

It’s not hard to see why the beautiful South Carolina town of Beaufort is a mecca for film shoots.

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This is a lovely little – and rather prosperous – 300-year-old city sparkling with real estate that makes natural settings for Hollywood films. The Big Chill was shot here. The Prince of Tides, The Great Santini and Forrest Gump were also shot in and around Beaufort. The town has a stunning natural setting looking out over the Port Royal Sound, enframed by small islands that conjure up a history rich in Antebellum and post-war prosperity and peace.

Named Best Small Southern Town by Southern Living, a Top 25 Small City Arts Destination by American Style, and a Top 50 Adventure Town by National Geographic Adventure, this second-oldest city in South Carolina, chartered in 1711, is a collection of well-cared for boutiques and small enterprises along a couple of nicely manicured downtown streets that converge onto the beautifully planned and executed Henry C. Chambers Waterfront Park – almost worth visiting on its own.beaufortblog2

But the real value resides in walking the residential side streets and drinking in the luxurious architecture and laneways lined by Spanish-moss draped live oaks – some of which are so old and large that thick branches actually bend to the ground in places. It’s a fascinating sight.

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We took a short drive from Beaufort to Parris Island, home to the east coast boot camp for the United States and the only boot Marine camp for women. We were headed to the museum, an expertly curated history of the Marines and a comprehensive overview of the history of Santa Elena, the Spanish colony that founded the island community back in the mid-1500s.

The town opens its doors for dog owners. We had lunch on the patio at Panini’s on the Waterfront and were introduced to an Arnold Palmer, a typical Southern drink made of half sweet tea and half lemonade (our new favourite). A bowl of water appeared tableside for Rigby. The restaurant also has a special menu for dogs. We kept to our shrimp-every-day creed and had delicious Shrimp Cheese Steak sandwiches piled high with local shrimp (did we mention the “Alabama” shrimp boat scenes from Forrest Gump were filmed just a few miles away?).

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If anything, Beaufort is made for walking. We fantasized about renting a house here for the Canadian winter months, a place where we could write, where we could be assured of some sunshine, where the roadways were not choking with traffic (or slick with ice) and where the general level of prosperity ensured that we could feel safe and intellectually stimulated. In short, we loved it.

In fact, we stretched our stay in this area by several days, just to take in the Gullah history, lovely beaches and campground on the Sea Islands near Beaufort. More on that next time.

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Myrtle Beach: It’s not all golf and t-shirt shops

Could there be more of a contrast between the sleepy and secluded villages of Down East and the hustle of Myrtle Beach? While the t-shirt shops and entertainment-style attractions lining Ocean Blvd. (think: Ripley’s and wax museums) are not really our style, we were able to find lots of low key and authentic experiences in the Myrtle Beach area.

We set up camp at the excellent Huntington Beach State Park, just south of the city – an amazing mix of maritime forest, marshlands and pristine beachfront.

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Almost immediately across the road is an area highlight, Brookgreen Gardens, a quiet escape from the busyness of Myrtle Beach’s Grand Strand. We took a long meditative stroll through the manicured grounds that tastefully blend art and formal gardens with a wild nature preserve across 9,100-acres of lowcountry South Carolina.

Railroad magnate Archer Milton Huntington and his wife Anna, a talented sculptor, built the gardens at Brookgreen in 1932 on land that was once a massive rice plantation. The grounds marry ponds and Southern gardens with hundreds of pieces of sculpture by some of America’s most celebrated artists.

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Between Brookgreen and Myrtle Beach is the small seaside hamlet of Murrells Inlet, famous for its fishing docks and fresh seafood. We lunched dockside at The Wicked Tuna which boasts a one-of-a-kind fresh seafood experience – if by fresh you mean that the fish comes right off the boat, and is handed directly into coolers in the restaurant’s ground floor.

Chef Dylan Foster knows he’s got a good thing going. “Benefit is, we control the quality of the fish right from the ocean to the restaurant. It can be fished in the morning and on the plate for lunch. It’s ocean to table.”

We had the day’s local catch: delish blackened mahi mahi tacos served with guacamole, tomatillo salsa and topped with a crispy house slaw.

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In town, a stone’s throw from the ocean-hugging Boardwalk, we sat down with Victor Shamah, owner of a Myrtle Beach music institution, The Bowery. Trademarked as “the eighth wonder of the world” it’s surely one of the last authentic honky-tonks in the lower 48.

“The Bowery is an old fashioned draft beer joint,” explained Vic, the owner for the last 34 years. “We sell just live music and draft beer. Alabama was our house band from 1973 to 1980 – they started here. They added country rock with a little more of a beat to it.”

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It’s not uncommon for visitors like singer Mark Chestnut to walk out of the audience to join today’s house band for a song or two. And the boys from Alabama stop by on a regular basis. The Bowery is that kind of place. The music fires up around 8:30 pm and goes steadily until 1:30 am or later – no breaks. And the band plays everything requested by the audience, which means that in a very short period of time a band has learned – on the bandstand – a huge repertoire of music if they want to keep their gig. Regulars have been walking through the front doors for 30 or more years. It’s a one-of-a-kind honky-tonk where you come if you love live music and its particular blend of atmosphere and tap beer.

Just down the main street, the massive SkyWheel revolves to heights 187 feet above the Boardwalk, with views well up and down the Atlantic coastline. It was well worth the ride because things always make more sense when seen from above. For those with acrophobia, there’s a panic button installed in the ceiling of each separate compartment.

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Finally, we topped off the day with an evening in the cushy seats at the Alabama Theatre for an evening of live, top-shelf music and comedy. We enjoyed their current show, One, which featured a selection of number one country, Motown, Broadway and R&B hits from the 20th century. The musicianship was excellent, featuring players who have toured with the biggest names in popular music, the singing and dancing were first rate and the comedy had the whole auditorium laughing at themselves and each other.

The next day, on the way out of town and headed down Highway 17 toward Charleston, we took a break at Pawleys Island Hammock Shops – a cluster of 22 household and gift stores best known for the original manufacturing site of the famous Pawleys Island hammock.

Had to take a break to check out the merchandise.

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A stretch called Down East

Tearing ourselves away from the beauty of Ocracoke was no small task. It did, however, involve one of our favourite activities of this coastline trip: a ferry ride.

It’s a two-hour ($15 USD) ferry ride across the waters of the Pamlico Sound to Cedar Island on the mainland of North Carolina. The area is better known to locals as Down East – a collection of 13 different maritime communities holding dear to the traditions of the seafaring life. Their past is a colourful history of whaling, fishing, hunting, quilting and the craft of decoy carving.

It’s the decoys that drew us to the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum & Heritage Center (right next to the ferry that crosses to the uninhabited shores of Cape Lookout National Seashore). Craig tried his hand at chopping away at a piece of juniper (a wood called white cedar in the north) under the tutelage of an amused Walter “Brother” Gaskill, one of the country’s best decoy carvers.

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Brother instructed Craig to just chop away anything that “doesn’t look like a duck.” Afterwards Brother pulls out cutting knives and files to try to repair the damage, all the while smiling as he tells us – in a thick Down East brogue – about a local group of carvers who work with the museum to revive the art of carving decoys.

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The second level of the museum – a building designed to resemble a cross between a large hunting lodge and a coastal life saving station – is like rummaging through your grandmother’s attic. Displays for each Down East community are filled with duck decoys, handmade quilts, black and white photos and household items.

From the top level there is a viewing platform with a great view of the Cape Lookout lighthouse, the only light station in North Carolina that stays lit night and day.

We found more maritime history (and, of course, more on Blackbeard) in the beautiful village of Beaufort (population: 4,000) at the North Carolina Maritime Museum. The region’s proud history of life saving stations, fishing, boatbuilding and piracy (okay, maybe proud is not the right word on that last one) is explained in detail.

But it was on two wheels that we really discovered the beauty of Beaufort (and it is very beautiful). We pedalled beach bikes from Hungry Town Bike Tours, a local bike tour company run by Betsy and David Cartier, two transplants from the northeast.

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David gave us a snapshot of Beaufort: “OPALs. Older people, active lifestyle.”

Think a garden club with 160 active members. Wide, quiet streets that are perfect for biking or walking. Gorgeous homes that range from cottages to mansions. A stone’s throw across the harbour is the Rachel Carson Reserve and the historic Fort Macon, a well-preserved Civil War era fort. There are no chain stores in sight.

David has a theory on this. “Beaufort has stayed isolated, so it’s kept its charm. These houses were built by shipbuilders, so they can withstand the storms. You’ll see a lot of homes with two porches – one up and one down – it’s a West Indian style imported by the sailors.”

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Indeed, Beaufort is made for those with a curiosity about history, food and culture and enough zip to pedal around town (easy pedalling along a very flat landscape and very light traffic on the side streets).

And about that “food” part … After pedalling and sightseeing all day we were primed for finding another seafood meal and, as it turns out, we ate dockside at the Front Street Grill at Stillwater, enjoying meals that were among the best of our trip to date.

The amazing Shrimp & Grits were made with stone ground cheese grits (flavoured with heavy cream and a sharp Vermont cheddar), sundried tomatoes, mushrooms, onions and tasso (a gravy made from a base of ham drippings). Craig opted for the same-day catch of yellowfin tuna (cooked rare) in soft wheat tortillas and served with sides of black beans, rice and fried plantains. The restaurant has indoor seating, outdoor seating on the deck (dog-friendly) and a great view of the sunset.

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It was a perfect way to end a perfect day!

Ocracoke is a state of mind

Getting to Ocracoke Island means a ferry crossing. And we not so much arrived at the tiny dock at the north tip as we gently slid in – both as a mode of transportation and a mindset.

It took seconds for us to love Ocracoke. There’s an air of instant relaxation. Sure, there’s just one way to get there (ferries at either end). Sure, the NPS campground has no hook-ups and cold water showers. And you won’t hear us complain about the total absence of anything remotely resembling a chain store. Thank goodness.

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So, what do people do once they get there? Well, they walk on the long strands of deserted beach. They fish. They explore the tiny streets of the island’s one village. They visit the lighthouse and look for the spot where the notorious Blackbeard met his end in 1718. They do a little shopping at the one-of-a-kind artisan shops. They talk to the locals. They eat their weight in fresh seafood.

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The off-season is the time to come (autumn is when the weather is great – as long as those nuisance hurricanes stay out of the way – and it’s the best time for fishing). Summer can be busy, which is why the village has introduced golf carts as a way of dealing with cars clogging up the historic district’s narrow streets.

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The setting is spectacular. The seafood couldn’t be fresher. But, it’s really the people of Ocracoke and the rich sense of community that made our visit shine.

It doesn’t take much to pull a story of the families of Ocracoke from Ocracoke Preservation Museum volunteer historian Al Scarborough. “Ocracoke is a very small community. Everyone’s related. The good news is everyone’s related,” he laughs. “The bad news is everyone knows your business.”

It was never really a fishing village, although people think of it that way. It began as an outpost for pilots, the skilled seamen who piloted schooners through the inlet. The pilots and their families were the lifeblood of Ocracoke.

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The island has seen shifts in its economy. When steam engines came along the need for pilots tanked. People moved to subsistence fishing. Refrigeration was invented and the catch could be stored before being shipped to larger ports. As soon as ferries connected the island to the mainland, tourism trickled in, and rocketed once a reverse osmosis plant in the 1960s meant that small hotels and inns could handle a larger number of guests.

Now, don’t get the idea that all of this growth means high rises and the like. Ocracoke has stayed small and the people like it that way. Flip open a phone book and you’ll still find pages of island family names: Gaskill, Gaskin, Braggs and Howard.

Philip Howard traces his family lineage back to the original purchasers of the island in 1759. Philip is a bit of a local authority on the history of the island and he certainly knows “where the bodies are buried.”

Actually, everyone does. Ocracoke (population: 850) has got more than 80 cemeteries and many families buried ‘em in the backyard.

Standing along the narrow, dirt Howard Street (a back laneway in the village’s historic core), Philip was able to point out a slew of final resting places for his relatives. “My grandparents are buried there,” he points. “And my aunt and uncle over there,” pointing the opposite direction down the lane.

It’s still customary to bury one’s dearly departed in the family’s small, fenced backyard cemetery.

It’s cosy and friendly and comfortable and there’s more than enough to fill your time. We’ve got some suggestions of don’t-miss stops:

  • Ocracoke Light Station – the walls are four-foot thick red brick, plastered and whitewashed. Ocracoke1
  • Springer’s Point is a lovely walk through a mature maritime forest to a stretch of beach where historians believe Blackbeard was based.
  • Rudy Austin’s Austin Boat Tours shuttles fishermen, campers and daytrippers to deserted Portsmouth Island. Rudy, an Ocracoke native, covers birding, history, Blackbeard lore, fishing and dolphin watching.
  • North Carolina native Rob Temple operates charters and tours on the schooner Windfall II and the historic Skipjack Wilma Lee. Rob is an authority on Blackbeard and knows all the answers to all the questions.
  • Places to eat: The Flying Melon Café serves three meals a day, including local favourites like Shrimp Mash (grilled local shrimp with poached eggs, topped with hollandaise). If you’re cooking yourself, the place to get fresh seafood is at the Ocracoke Seafood Co., a local fish house where young fishermen like Morty Gaskill keep the traditions alive. Ocracoke8
  • Overnight stays: You’ll want to stay several days. There are many cottages to rent or you can book hotel suites at Captain’s Landing, right on the dockside with spectacular views of the harbour and the lighthouse. RV and tenters can bed down at the NPS Ocracoke Campground just a few miles north of the village.

Cape Hatteras National Seashore: Where land and sea meet

It would have been a mistake to look at a map of the stretch of barrier islands to the south, turn around and head back north to the comforts of the Outer Banks’ “larger” communities, like Nags Head, Kitty Hawk and Manteo. As lovely as these villages are – and they are great places to visit – things got really interesting the further we drove south into the heart of Cape Hatteras National Seashore.

First, a little geography: Cape Hatteras National Seashore is a long, pencil-thin stretch of barrier islands (Bodie, Hatteras, Ocracoke) with the dunes of the Atlantic Ocean on one side and the water of Pamlico Sound on the other. It’s largely land under the watch of the National Park Service, so gets a high level of environmental protection. There are several historic villages scattered along the way (not part of the NPS land) with large beachfront homes and all the amenities of a smaller town.

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We’ve already written about the shifting sand and the close watch residents keep through hurricane season (June – November) but the real highlight is what’s not along long stretches of this pristine coast. The NPS has preserved wetlands for migratory birds (hike along a boardwalk at Pea island National Wildlife Refuge), historic lighthouses and miles of remote sand beach.

In the water, dolphins played. On the shoreline, a few fishermen planted their long rods to cast from the surf and the occasional walker doffed footwear and strolled barefoot along the sand. No shops. No go-carts or mini-golf. Not even a single vending machine. In the NPS campgrounds? No electrical hook-ups and cold water showers. Ink-black skies at night. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea but it sure is ours.

The Outer Banks are infamous as the Graveyard of the Atlantic – a testament to the dangerous shoals that claimed many a passing ship (the estimate is the waters off the banks holds more than 600 shipwrecks dating back centuries).

Craig took the ranger-guided hike up the black and white striped Bodie Island Light Station. The view from the top was great over the long dunes and the salt marshes that are a perfect stopover point for birds migrating north-south along the Atlantic Flyway. Bodie Island Lighthouse was built in 1871, is 214 steps and on a clear day you can see 30 km (18 mi) from the top. Its flash pattern is 2.5 on, 2.5 off, 2.5 on, 22.5 off (just in case you were wondering) and it still uses an original Fresnel lens. The grounds of the lighthouse are dog friendly (but not a climb to the top).

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A little further down the road we stopped at the candy-cane striped lighthouse that most people associate with the Outer Banks: Cape Hatteras Light Station. The National Historic Landmark is the continent’s tallest brick lighthouse (a climb up Hatteras is 248 steps, equivalent to a 12-storey building). The grounds of the lighthouse are dog friendly (but not a climb to the top).

The iconic lighthouse also made it to many a newspaper front page in 1999 when the National Park Service moved the entire brick structure 460 m (1,500 ft) back from an encroaching sea. The sands continue to shift but they say the move should keep the tall building safe for a good long time.

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In Hatteras Village we ate dinner overlooking a dock filled with fishing boats and had a seafood meal that set the bar high for the remainder of our trip. The chef at the Breakwater Restaurant buys local: shrimp, scallops, grouper, flounder, tuna and it shows in the taste on the plate. We ate our fill of steamed shrimp the size of a toddler’s fist that were flavour-packed, meaty and didn’t suffer a bit from being dipped in melted butter. On a quest to embrace grits, Jo ate a delicious main of Shrimp & Grits (and yes, it did the trick – now a convert) and Craig had spicy, blackened chunks of yellowfin tuna (the catch of the day) wrapped in soft wheat tortillas and served with sides of black beans, rice and a pineapple chutney. Dessert was one slice/two forks of Peanut Butter Pie – a rich and creamy PB centre topped with dark, chocolate ganache.

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Like we said, the bar is set high.

They call it OBX: North Carolina’s Outer Banks

We’re looking for the places that smack of coastline life. The Outer Banks certainly fill that bill – from the northern tip at the beach at Corolla, to the secluded village of Ocracoke 190 km (118 mi) away. By secluded, here’s what we overheard: “Honey, if the world ended tomorrow, Ocracoke would find out about it next week.” We’ll be there in a few days and will report in.

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Look at a map of the Outer Banks and it seems like the long barrier islands could be blown away by a stiff hurricane. It turns out, they are slowly moving southwest – gale-force winds and the constant pounding of the ocean are shifting the tenuous landscape, one grain of sand at a time. Inch by inch, century by century, the sandbar moves closer to the mainland as wind and tempestuous storms re-arrange the dunes, reshaping the map. When hurricanes come roaring up the Atlantic seaboard, the Outer Banks are in the bull’s eye. But when the weather is lovely – like it has been this early October 2014 – it’s hard to imagine a more beautiful stretch of sand and sun. Kiteboarders, windsurfers, parasailors and sailors love the wind.

We started at the top: Corolla, home to the Colonial Spanish Mustangs, a herd of 100 that are direct descendants of horses shipwrecked centuries ago. Fast forward to the 21st century and these wild horses freely range the beaches, dunes and scrub brush of the narrow sandbar between the Atlantic Ocean and Currituck Sound, protected by the non-profit Corolla Wild Horse Fund.

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We loaded into the back of a 4WD truck, and setout with Corolla Outback Adventures to follow hoof prints in the sand. After driving between the dunes and into the maritime forest, we finally spotted one harem of six down by the ocean’s edge catching a little sea breeze to stay cool.

OBX – in particular, Kitty Hawk – is known for wind and for the “12 seconds that changed history.” This is where two bicycle-building brothers – Wilbur and Orville Wright – came to take advantage of the constant winds and the area’s seclusion to test their homemade flying machine. The year was 1903, and on a chilly December day they ran four successful flights – the shortest was 12 seconds and the longest 59 seconds. It was the first successful power-driven flight in world history and it cemented the Outer Banks as the Birthplace of Aviation. We saw it, walked it and soaked it up at the excellent Wright Brothers National Monument. Markers in the field show the exact start and stopping points of each flight, and indoor displays include reproductions of the brothers’ first wind tunnel machine and lightweight flying contraptions.

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Just a few miles down the road, Jockey’s Ridge State Park protects the tallest natural sand dune on the eastern seaboard (at 100 ft above sea level it’s not exactly nosebleed territory, but it is a very impressive sweep of sand). We took a long walk to the top of the dune for great views over the beachfront. We visited too late in the afternoon, but Wright-wannabes can sign up for hang gliding classes with the dune top as a take-off point.

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Part two of our OBX mission is to try as much fresh seafood as possible. Our favourite stop was an Outer Banks’ institution: Sam & Omie’s. Even in the off season, the place was hopping, packed with entrants in a women’s sportfishing tournament who knew where to find the best seafood meals. Sam & Omie’s began as an early breakfast hangout for local fisherman back in the late 1930s. These days, they serve breakfast, lunch and dinner and are known for the shrimp burger (a delicious pile of shrimp on a coleslaw-lined bun that is impossibly messy to eat) and the catch of the day (always right off the boat). We shared a Broiled Seafood Combo of shrimp and scallops with steamed collards on the side (got to get our iron-rich veggies for the day).

SamOmies1

SamandOmies2

 

 

 

Getting to where we’re going

You’d think that getting out of town would be the easy part.

Not so much.

The city we live in sits at the juncture of a big river and a large lake. Sometimes it’s windy, which makes for great sailing, kiteboarding and the like. Big wind can mean big waves. And big waves can make for one rollickin’ ferry ride.

In a feat of physics and geometry, the fellows who run Horne’s Ferry managed to shoehorn 10 vehicles onto the small platform, toss the lines and move us safely from Point A to Point B, bobbing across the roiling waters of the St. Lawrence River. With the ferry holdup, the miraculous shoehorning and the slower-than-usual crossing, it took us about four hours to travel 15-kilometres (9 miles).

This six-week road trip is about finding out what’s unique about life along the lower stretches of the Atlantic coastline – through the Carolinas and Georgia – then turning inland and digging deep into the music, culture and history of the hills and mountains on the return trip north.

So, we packed the camper van, revved the engine, gave our house sitters some last minute instructions (Reminder if you’re reading this: No parties. Recycling goes out on Mondays.) and we were off.

As soon as possible, we connected with salty water: driving down the Delmarva Peninsula (Delaware-Maryland-Virginia) that separates Chesapeake Bay from the mighty Atlantic Ocean. We tested the patience of a bemused local fisherman in Onancock, VA, peppering him with questions about how he cooks clams, oysters, shrimp, grouper and catfish. We went for the clams; scrubbed and then steamed in a mixture of Heineken, chopped tomatoes, garlic and onions.

onancock seafood

Next morning we crossed the 30-km (17.6-mi) Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, one of the Seven Engineering Wonders of the Modern World. Craig took the wheel. Jo “doesn’t do tunnels.”

It’s like magic: we popped out near Virginia Beach, it was a short hop down the coastline to North Carolina and then suddenly we found ourselves in the village of Corolla at the very top of the Outer Banks (OBX, as the locals like to call it).

So, we’re here. One dog. One camper van. Two people. Bring on the beaches and the seafood.