Last weekend Matthew and I were down at Atlantic Beach, the southern-most part of North Carolina's Outer Banks in a place they call the Crystal Coast. Working within our budget, I booked us some pretty "old school", oceanfront accomodations with cinder block walls in the rooms and concrete patio furniture. The "Tropical Breakfast" was Fruit Loops and bananas - but it was by the ocean, and really more than we usually eat for breakfast so it was fine! Some 'resorts' have state-of-the-art gyms, water parks and gamerooms. Ours had shuffleboard and tetherball, half of a basketball court and some swings. The pool was nice and the lifeguards carried our chairs for us down to the beach. There was nothing at all modern about the place - it was a throw-back to a different time, simple, friendly and truly family-oriented. Exactly the kind of thing I look for when we head out to somewhere!
Actually, I found the whole town to have that same sort of flavor - not overly commercialized, it seemed under-developed and older. It wasn't crowded or loud with drunks. Being a little on the nostalgic side - I just loved the feel of the whole place. And what wasn't built up with retro-structures or diner-like restaurants was still wild with wind-blown trees, sea oats and grasses, marshes and narrow waterways. Everywhere you looked was interesting and different. I'm used to Myrtle Beach and all that goes with it - but I could really get used to Atlantic Beach and its quiet-ness! Matthew, on the other hand, appreciates something a little less 'quiet'. He wasn't exactly bored but I could tell he was getting in the mood for something a little more adventurous!
Absent from this beach-side town were any arcades, waterslides or go-carts. No amusement rides, henna tattoo shops or anything with "Ripley's" in the name. We were going to have to look a little harder for something to do other than hanging out in the surf. I jumped on the internet to find our next adventure. I wasn't long into my search before I realized we were very close to an island inhabited by herds of wild horses! Legend has it that these ponies are the descendants of ponies coming to America on Spanish ships as early as the 1500's. The ships wrecked off the coast and the horses swam for the shores. They made their way to this little Shackleford Island - and have been living there ever since! Looks like I found our adventure!
We drove down to Beaufort, NC to the Outer Banks Ferry Company. I didn't really know what to expect but I felt prepared. I had a bottled water, the sunscreen, my camera and some extra batteries - everything we should need for our sight-seeing island expedition! Matthew was dressed in his bathing suit and I was in a pink, flowery tank top, shorts and flip-flops. When I think "island" it's the attire that comes to mind. But while standing on the dock I started to feel a little underdressed and grossly unprepared. The other people waiting on the ferry looked more like they were about to hike the Appalachian Trail with their hiker-ish shoes, long sleeve shirts and fully-loaded backpacks. Oh well, we were the only ones with a sand pail for collecing shells. So who was going to be the sorry one, really?
The captain of our ferry lead us down the dock to our boat and directed us to our seats. He seemed like the real deal, this captain, with his leathery, sun-darkened skin, weathered-looking appearance and dressed in dockside casual. I imagine he spent much of the night before at some bar listening to Buffett songs on a jukebox, drinking rum and smoking too much. But here we were about to be taxied across the Atlantic Intercoastal Waterway by this unfriendly, possibly hungover guy. I just hoped he had enough time to sleep off his party. We slowly made our way through the "No Wake Zone" and then he hit the gas, speeding along the waves, bumping our butts on the seats with every white cap we jumped over. Water was coming up over the sides of our smallish boat, ocean spray showering us with every crash over a wave. Trying to not be scared, I was hoping he would slow down a little and tell us what we were looking at as we zoomed past sights on either side of us - you know, like a tour guide. No luck. He quietly stayed the course and none of us dared to ask.
And just when I was starting to second guess my breakfast, mercifully Captain NoNonsense slowed down the boat. Our island was just to the right of us! We made it! He navigated the boat along the shoreline. I assumed he was going around to the back side of the island towards the dock. I looked and looked but I couldn't see a dock at all; there was no dock. But that didn't stop the captain. He was heading straight for the land mass. And the next thing you know he drove the boat straight onto the sand. Our forward momentum was abruptly halted and we all lurched forward. No one seemed panicked about this so I figured this was part of the plan. It was almost like in the movies when the boat comes up to the shore. The passenger grabs his bag and easily jumps off the side, lightly landing in ankle-deep water and splashes up to the beach. Almost, but not quite. The gruff captain never left his perch. We lined up without his help and made our way off the boat one by one. I was the last to exit. I grabbed my pink backpack, stepped to the edge, jumped off the boat and onto the hard, compacted sand. I didn't splash, frolic or any other way of happily arriving. I hit the sand with a thud and it hurt. But anyway, we made it and I was ready to go find the famed Shackleford Ponies!
The two other parties that shared the ferry ride with us both set off in their own directions, the boat captain pulled away and left the island as quickly as he arrived and just like that Matthew and I were standing on the point of a deserted island alone. It was weird. Creepy even. Creepy, weird and HOT. With no shade to be found and the sun already starting to beat down on us, I slathered us up in the sunscreen. A hat would have been nice, I thought. Or an umbrella. Maybe the other explorers were on to something with their giant bags of gear. Didn't matter, we were on our island adventure and we were going to have fun! Matthew started picking up broken seashells right away. And I found some perfectly whole shells, enormous shells, all different shapes and sizes! It was a good thing I brought our bucket! We walked along the shore for a good while, never seeing another person. We just picked up shells and took in the view. It was peaceful and beautiful.
We found crabs, broken sand dollars and conch shells. Seaweed, sea rocks and sharks teeth. Then as we started to climb up over the dunes I noticed some fresh hoof-prints in the sand! This meant to me that we were about to find the ponies! I turned on my camera and peered in every direction. Nothing. We tip-toed along the trail of prints expecting to run right into a herd of horses at any moment. Still, nothing. The prints led inland towards the high grasses and trees. Along the trail we started to notice fresh piles of poop - the horse's "calling cards", inviting us to follow along. We felt for sure if we stayed on the path we were going to see the horses. The sand was getting farther and farther behind us. We walked along, deeper and deeper into the brush on the crushed grasses, watching our step as not to stumble into the poo-piles. We really were in the wild - and it was exciting!
And then I heard buzzing in my ear. I shooed the bug away from my head. And then I felt a sting on my arm and I brushed my arm. I heard more buzzing and I felt more stinging and I brushed my other arm. I looked down and both of my arms were covered in large, I mean GIANT mosquitoes! Mosquitoes as large as my head were diving into me, I could feel them landing on my neck, back, legs. They were everywhere! "I'm covered in mosquitoes!" I yelled to Matthew. "They're on me too!" he yelled back, frantically waving them away from himself as well. We were being attacked by a swarm of blood-sucking devils! Thousands of them relentlessly biting us from head to toe. And it didn't help that we both smelled like sweat and freshly applied 30 SPF Pina Colada Sunscreen. "RUN FOR IT!" I screamed to Matthew and he took off back the way we came. I ran along behind him as fast as my bedazzled flip flops could carry me shooing, swatting and fanning and dodging piles of poop all along our densely covered trail. We must've looked crazy tap-dancing around the dung and trying to ward off the hellish invaders of our personal space! Luckily there was no one around to see!
We burst out of the grassy trail and back onto the sand. My whole body shook and jerked and jumped, making sure I had rid myself from the nasty insects. I shook out my hair, slapped myself all over. My skin crawled at the thoughts! Matthew was dancing around too asking me to check him. I tossled his hair and dusted off his neck and looked him over as we quickly made our way to the sand dune. It was my plan to run straight from there and into the water to wash the buggers away! We rounded the corner and ran straight into a group of campers. It nearly scared me to death as they were the only humans we had seen since our boat left the island. Matthew, who isn't shy at all, loudly exclaimed to the group "We were eaten alive in there!!" With that the campers were also caught off guard.
"Are you ok?" one of them asked? "Fine", I said laughingly, trying not to sound stupid and be embarrassed. "He's talking about mosquitoes". The camper, dressed in a long sleeve shirt, a wide-brimmed straw hat, thick socks and hiking boots, told me all about the mosquitoes and how bad they were here on the island and how we shouldn't be in the grasses without bug spray, or dressed in tank tops and flip flops. That was nice to know. It would have been nicer coming from the people who sold me our tickets to get out to that God-forsaken island.
One of the campers reached into his 40 pound backpack and grabbed a bottle of bug spray. "We have extra. Take this", he said as he handed me the bottle. It was a little after the fact but I started spraying Matthew down with the spray. And then I sprayed myself. Another valuable lesson I learned that day is that spraying bug spray on sunburn burns. A lot. My good-feelings were quickly going away. Wild horses or no wild horses, I was ready to get off the island.
The boat came every hour on the hour but we weren't scheduled to leave for another hour and 10 minutes. I didn't care - we were going to run to the other side of the island and beg the mean captain to take us with him!! I could see the boat coming and we took off in a sprint. The boat landed in the sand and that gang of campers we had met earlier were piling their stuff onto the deck. Waving frantically I caught the attention of the captain. He threw up his hand - barely - at least acknowleging me. We made it to the sandbar just as the last of the campers were climbing aboard. Breathlessly I asked if we could squeeze in. I didn't care what his answer was - we were getting in that boat. I was hot, sun-burned, itching all over and swelling up from insect bites, dehydrated and dare I say possibly anemic. Matthew was already finding a seat on the ferry by the time the captain gave us permission to come aboard!
Happily speeding back to civilization we decided that despite nearly contracting Malaria we had fun! It wasn't an arcade, had no go-carts or interactive museum exhibits but it really was an adventure - at least unforgettable! We didn't get any pictures of the Shackleford Ponies but we did come away with a little more experience and a bucket full of broken seashells! (More on broken seashells in the next blogpost...)
