from oregon inlet... The adventure started at my neighborhood video store, a place I frequent often with hopes of being launched into mysterious lands with wondrous tales. Yes, I'm usually disappointed, but this isn't a story about how Hollywood continually fails us as an audience. This is a story about the undiscovered, by me at least.
Recently, I participated in a series shoot about the 400-year anniversary of Jamestown, America's first settlement which lies right up road, or river, from my house on the Chesapeake Bay. Last year, the film "The New World" was shot on location at Jamestown, using the James River and tourism settlement as a backdrop. Interested in this, and still bitter that we didn't get to do a "behind-the-scenes" while they were in production, I was still curious to see how the movie turned out. I returned to work to finish my piece for the day and get home as quick as possible, as it was Friday, when my Special Projects producer approached me. This always makes me nervous at such a late hour on Friday.
"Ummm...we have an opportunity to participate in something."
'Christ,' I thought. 'So much for being beachside on-time.'
"On Monday, they are going to do a sea trial cruise on the Godspeed (one of John Smith's ships) and we have the chance to send a photographer along to cover it. Would you be interested?"
"Hell yeah!" I explained. To hell with John Smith. Boatswain Walsh is ready to take the helm. I went home, excited about my upcoming sea voyage on the authentic 17th century ship, but for some reason I had a crazed notion in my head about what to do with myself this weekend. I watched the movie, shot beautifully, an epic art film, with a less than gripping storyline that drug along with the speed of a slug through sand, when my idea came full circle. The Outer Banks. It was supposed to be nice Saturday, turning to storms on Sunday. I could finally do a test run at the campgrounds at Oregon Inlet, a favorite spot of mine just south of Nags Head.
In the morning I did the research. The weather looked favorable until Sunday and low tide was at around 2pm. If I left in time, I could get there, checked in, and in the water just in time. I packed the essentials: tent, sleeping bag, blankets, pillows, cooler, surfboard, wetsuit, water, food. On the road by 10am, I made my pilgrimage south to the holy land.
The drive to the Outer Banks is scenic. Urban Virginia quickly turns to the rural countrysides of Currituck County and along the barrier islands home to the cities of Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, and Nags Head. Shortly after entering the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, Bodie Island lighthouse rises out of the marshes to the west and Oregon Inlet, an expansive waterway cut through the island by a hurricane many years back, sits to the east. I checked into the campground, sure to set up as far from the Boy Scout battalion that invaded a large section of the grounds, as warned by the park ranger.
"They will be running around all over that area," he said. I found a spot far, far away.
First things first, I grabbed my board, wetsuit, and bag and made my way across the dunes to the ocean. It was a good five to ten minute walk up and down the wind formed mountains of sand when I got my first glimpse of the beach. Not a building in sight and families and their SUVs littered the beach, but it wasn't too crowded. The tide was low, as I had researched, and their was enough swell to make for an enjoyable couple hours of waveriding. I returned to my campsite to trade in my board and wetsuit for my chair and a bag of beer. After setting up my tent, I returned to the beach to just sit and soak it all in.
As the day rolled along, people began to disappear and I was eventually the only one on the beach, minus the occassional straggler walking along the shorebreak. It was getting later, so I returned to the campsite to start bbqing and grab a fresh, cold beer. When I got to my truck, I rifled through my pockets, gym bag, everything. Where were my keys?
I ran back to the beach where I had been sitting, flying across the dunes like a hungry fox, when I gazed upon where I had sat for the past few hours, which was now completely underwater. Stranded, in the Outer Banks, some two hours from home, and unable to get a beer out of the cooler. Damned tidal pool. I searched and cussed and cussed some more when a very nice samaritan stopped and asked "do you want my help?"
We searched along the deepening pools of water and I watched a stream of water that was forcefully returning to sea where my keys had likely found their new home. I thanked her, dejected, and slumped my way back across my newfound paradise which now seemed to become my prison.
I left the windows cracked a bit because I knew the heat would melt the wax off my board. Using one of the tent braces, I popped the lock on the door like a skilled St. Louis car thief and was at least able to get a beer out of the cooler, at least one bit of saving grace. I popped the hatch of the truck, nearly having a heart attack when I saw the glistening of my keys sitting on top of my sweatpants. I have never been so happy that I locked my keys in my truck.
The sun set, the stream of the Bodie Island light was a beacon behind me, and the dunes darkened slowly. The fire from the grill was my only light, as I sat pondering the day, while the chicken and sausages seared, lifting wonderful scents into the sea air. Aside from my near coronary, a truly perfect day.
I slept fair, tossing and turning. The packed sand beneath me felt like concrete; note to self, bring the futon cushion next time. The moon peered through the tent's window brightening the dark blue sky. I knew sunrise was soon so I grabbed my coffee and breakfast, a leftover wrap from KFC, and stumbled through the dunes again. As I rose to see the water I saw the sun barely trickling over the horizon. I sat, inhaled and took it all in. A perfect morning on a desolate beach without a soul in sight. The colors sprayed across the sands and sea and the sun announced its presence. Exhale.
The trip was moreorless a recon expedition to see if it would be a good cheap adventure for the children and I over the summer. At $20 for the campsite and $10 for beer, a very cheap and easy way to enjoy one of my favorite places in the world. You ought to give it a try, but be sure to keep track of your keys.
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(2006)
Images from the Godspeed's Crow's Nest are here...
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