You might think a grey, overcast day would put a damper on our enjoyment, but that’s not so. Oh sure, photos of landscapes are mostly better when shot under blue skies, but I blame poor photos on the lack of skills of the photographer. Then again, I also wonder why I even care how someone else might perceive our day as somehow tragic since we had to “endure” the weather. Maybe it’s all tied up in our superficial obsession with beauty and brand where everything must be wrapped in perfection, and if it’s not, we should feel sorry for those not able to participate in those luxuries. Well, come rain or shine, we are ready to move down the road and up the trail.
The last time we encountered the Chesapeake Bay Bridge and Tunnel, it was under the dark of night; today, it is under the kinda darkish cover of heavy clouds. So, what’s the bright side of this? Considering that Caroline was born and raised in Germany and that I was raised in Los Angeles, how many people from Germany should be so lucky to travel this bridge and tunnel system twice in their lifetime, and for that matter, how many from Los Angeles will venture out this way?
Just above this tunnel entrance is the Virginia Originals & Chesapeake Grill where we had breakfast because how often does one have the opportunity to eat on a manmade island?
Into the bowels of the earth – one must wonder, with all that water above our heads, are there any leaks down here?
Why it took four hours to travel 77 miles is beyond me; maybe Caroline needed the toilet a lot, as we know how women are. Just kidding, Caroline actually has a bladder that can compete with anybody. I’ve made her wait hours as I inconsiderately accidentally kept missing places we could have pulled over, and she barely made a squeak about how horrible a person I am as she was raging in pain. Come to think about it, I’ll bet a dollar Caroline will groan when she reads that I’m sharing her toilet habits with the larger world.
Stopping in Virginia Beach at Java Surf to try the butter pecan espresso probably didn’t help in my need to write about the frequency of peeing, but that’s what we did, though that was a while ago. Here at the North Carolina border, we stopped at the Southland Gas Station and Barbecue. This might be a first for us where gas and barbecue are had at the same stop. We did not have much hope for anything exceptional, but by the crowd inside this joint, we should have known we were in for a treat. “Wow!” is the best description of how amazing North Carolina BBQ done right can be, and for the first time ever, we found how much we can love vinegar-based BBQ sauce.
I know exactly what you’re going to think about now: “Are these two like a couple of Vielfraß when they travel?” Well, we kind of are exactly that. We are trying to think of the boiled peanuts as dessert. In any case, we have to take advantage of these little luxuries as they happen, as over in Arizona, we won’t find boiled peanuts for a thousand miles. As for the Vielfraß thing (pronounced feel-fros), it’s a wolverine in German, but in the context of talking about food, it’s a thing that gobbles up its food wherever it can find it in an urgent and frantic way. This has been our German word lesson of the day.
We were warned to avoid “French Fry Alley” as the area from Kitty Hawk to Nags Head is known to some locals. The pejorative nature of the connotation turns out to be quite accurate as there is an air about this area that smacks of Atlantic City and Daytona Beach and attracts the lowest common denominator of subhuman troglodytes. My snobbish tastes definitely lean more towards Bar Harbor, Maine, New Bedford, Massachusetts, Cannon Beach, and Yachats in Oregon and other places that are quiet, civilized, and missing most of the vulgarity of people who reluctantly become tourists in the pursuit of an ideal instead of an experience.
The museum here at the Wright Brothers National Memorial at Kill Devil Hills down the road from Kitty Hawk is okay, but the narrow roads with no pull-outs were not designed for people who want to pause along the drive to get out for a walk or take photos. We also notice there are no bike or hiking trails out here, what kind of park is this?
The woman in the gift/book shop was downright rude, sealing our experience as being horrible, which is a first in a national park or monument. But enough of this blemish as we can simply move on.
Don’t get the idea we were in any way discouraged as we knew that lighthouses were coming up, and one of them is likely the most famous on earth. We are at Cape Hatteras National Seashore south of French Fry Alley and a million miles of culture away from all of that. I’m not sure, but I think our smiles help brighten the overcast sky.
The Bodie Island Lighthouse is our first stop on Highway 12 South. This icon has been operational since 1848, and while tours are available, we opt to use our shortening time out here to visit the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse and maybe come back someday to visit this one.
The Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, built back in 1870, looks like it hasn’t been painted since then, but from a distance, you’d never know. We’re thrilled to be here, so much so that Caroline splurged in the gift shop and bought a pendant of the lighthouse that she’ll cherish for years into the future.
Of course, we are climbing the 268 steps to the top.
Here, we are standing atop this 137-year-old beacon to seafarers. Our day on this stretch of the Outer Banks is now complete.
A little further down the road, we run out of land. We either turn around or swim. Just kidding, our plan all along was to take the ferry across the channel to the island of Ocracoke, where we had a room reserved for the night.
This is what $80 gets you at the Harborside Motel.
Dinner was at the incredible Cafe Atlantic, where we feasted on a couple of seafood combos and were wooed by the hummingbird cake served with the greatest toasted coconut ice cream ever.
The rain is coming down hard over at the Ocracoke Lighthouse, but along the way, we get to see some fireflies. Nature’s fireworks are the perfect close to the day.
