Tag Archives: North Carolina

Asheville: Loophole of the Bible Belt

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Oh, could most tourist destinations learn a thing or two from Asheville, North Carolina. This mid-size city in the Appalachian Mountains has lots going for it, not the least of which is the stunning scenery. On the urban end, the city’s energized and funky downtown core offers up a nice mix of used bookstores, speciality shops and independently-owned bars and restaurants. And most of it is dog friendly too. Rigby was welcomed into one store after another – especially the Three Dog Bakery where the sign on the door informed customers, Owners on Leash Welcome.

The locals like to joke about liberal-leaning Asheville being “the loophole in the Bible Belt.” There’s lots to see and do, including music, although we focused our time in the city on food, walking, soaking in the architecture and enjoying the work of local artisans. Our highlights? Read on . . .

Art Deco: Downtown is a mix of beautifully restored heritage buildings – with the nation’s largest collection of Art Deco architecture outside of Miami.

Southern eats: Even the funky-style eateries support the culture and heritage of the Southern mountains. We ate a great meal at Early Girl Eatery with its all-day breakfast and Southern standards on the menu (biscuits and gravy, fried green tomatoes, shrimp and grits and a North Carolina specialty, grilled pimento cheese sandwich).

Asheville Bee Charmer: Think all things bee-related and you get the idea. The new Bee Charmer has two locations, one in the heart of town and the other in the up-and-coming arts district of West Asheville. Owner Jillian Kelly is 100 per cent committed to connecting with ethical beekeepers around the world. The shop’s warmly- glowinghoney tasting bar is a blast and a way to try before you buy while learning a little about the intricacies of bees and honey production. If it’s about bees, Jillian knows it all.

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Battery Park Book Exchange & Champagne Bar: We love most bookstores but we really, really loved Battery Park on Page Avenue (right in the centre of town). A visit is like slipping into a good friend’s sumptuously-decorated living room – couches and chairs, artwork on the walls, thick Persian rugs, table lamps – with the addition of thousands of (mainly) used books filling rows and rows of tall shelves. Music softly plays in the background (“we’re a conversational bar”) and well-behaved dogs are welcome. Owner Thomas Wright quips that he is “selling buggy whips” but we were instantly hooked. Oh yeah, there’s a well-appointed bar that serves champagne and wine. So comfortable, it was hard to leave.

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Song of the Wood: A short drive outside Asheville is the stunning home and workshop of hammered dulcimer maker, Jerry Read Smith. Jerry is a skilled artisan and gracious host who loves to talk music, craft and woodworking to anyone with an appreciation for fine workmanship. He showed us his latest commission – number 950 in a long career than spans three decades. “Every single aspect of it makes a difference. A mahogany bridge will be different than a rosewood bridge,” he says. “The more you play it, the better it stays in tune.” For those who don’t have a clue what a hammered dulcimer is, take a look and listen at his excellent website (tip: it’s a percussion string instrument with about 100 strings in five octaves). He describes the unique sound best when he says: “Every note rings as long as it wants to. I think of it as music set free.”

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Biltmore Estate: This magnificent piece of architecture – at 250 rooms it is America’s largest house – is a peek into how the .001 per cent live. The estate built by George Vanderbilt in 1895 stretches across 8,000 acres, getting in and out involves parking and shuttle rides and once you are in the estate home you will be agog at the antiques, furnishings, architecture and lifestyle. It’s an Asheville must-see.

 

Music jams along North Carolina’s Bluegrass Trails

The Carolina foothills have long been a centre of musical innovation and cross-cultural fusion. In this area of gently rolling hills, music and dance hold a place in the traditions of the community.

Enter the community jam. We were fortunate enough to visit several – and there are literally dozens of regular musical get-togethers. We’ve written about the excellent Earl Scruggs Center in Shelby, NC – if you are ever in the area it is worth a detour and several hours of your time. We gained a whole new appreciation for banjos and bluegrass and were eager to seek out spots we could hear more local players. We were not disappointed.

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Because we really needed to see how the magic of bluegrass rolls out, we stopped in the town of Fletcher where, on a Monday night, we caught the open jam at the Feed & Seed: “A Family Friendly Live Music Venue that doubles as a church.” And it works.

This barely renovated, century-old feed and seed warehouse is now a non-denominational storefront church lovingly overseen by Pastor Phillip Trees. On Friday and Saturday nights bluegrass bands take to the stage (there’s a waiting list) and dancers practice their traditional Appalachian clogging (aka: flatfooting). Monday nights the church provides a home for the open community jam.

What we found was an evening of people immersed in the music of their lives and sharing their love of playing with anyone who walks through the door. This all-ages, all-faiths, event brings out the best in everyone.

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We counted no fewer than 10 banjos, at least as many guitars, a doghouse (bass) and a sprinkling of violins (“fiddles,” y’all), resonator guitars and mandolins. There was even – cue the hairy eyeball – an electric bass on the bandstand. The average age was – oh, 65-70 – and there must have been 25-30 jammers all awaiting their turn and at least as many in the audience, cracking up, singing along and generally soaking up the vibe.

Pastor Trees has bands for his weekend shows lined up to play on his excellently appointed stage and sound system (two 20th-century Altec Lansing Voice of the Theatre speakers). The sound is terrific: warm and surrounding but not loud. Can’t make it to the Feed & Seed for a Monday night jam? You can stream the evening on your home computer. The cameras get turned on, the musicians fire the link to their Facebook friends and within a minute people are tuning in from all over the world.

As Pastor Trees says: “We’re free-giving back to the community.”

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In the Drexel Barber Shop, we crowded around a cluster of older men cradling a banjo, a mandolin, a resonator guitar, a guitar and a bass. Carroll Anthony’s dad – who carried his guitar into war with General Patton’s 3rd army – started this jam in 1964 and some combination of players and singers has been gathering here weekly since.

“He started strumming his guitar between haircuts,” Anthony explained. “Well, the chief of police played a mandolin. He started coming in and he’d pick a little bit. He’d get a call and have to take off. So he finally started leaving his mandolin at the shop. Joe came in and started playing banjo with them and it progressed from there. Today there are 30-40-50 people every Saturday morning.”

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“These guys just love it. I couldn’t pay ’em to come here,” he explained. “They just love doing it.”

The sign in the barbershop says Pickin’ & Trimmin’ and that’s exactly what happens. Herbert Lambert – an 87-year old Second World War veteran – sat hunched over his mandolin.

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“You’ll think he’s asleep, tobacco juice be drippin’ out of his mouth,” someone whispered, “but he’ll play here all day and go somewhere else to play all night.” Lambert plays circles around men 30 years younger. The back room is decked out with bluegrass memorabilia, posters of Bill Monroe, tributes to musicians who have visited, retired instruments adorn the walls and a circle of chairs for audience members close to the wood stove. It’s not fancy. It’s authentic.

There is no routine, no order of songs: one person starts up a melody and everyone else jumps in, takes their turn soloing, and comps along to the end. Visitors are welcome to sit in, youngsters are encouraged, singers are appreciated. Any skill level is welcome, as are players of any age. Most people play two or three instruments – some very well – and the whole spirit is about having fun and sharing the experience of making music.

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Brevard
We loved the small town of Brevard (and not just because the incredibly efficient, family-owned – 100 years and counting – Eldridge Motors repair shop replaced our failed alternator with almost no notice). The new town library is great (it’s where we get lots of work done), there’s a world-class music school in town (the Brevard Music Center) and the downtown is neat and tidy with lots of interesting shops, including O.P. Taylor’s toy shop with one of the largest Lego inventories ever. The forests and waterfalls around Brevard have been used for movie shoots, including the first instalment of The Hunger Games.

We headed for the Silvermont bluegrass jam, started 32 years ago by local Harley Raines, sitting on his front porch. Things have grown and on Thursday nights the musicians and audience members crowd into a side room at the Silvermont, a heritage home that is now a community centre for seniors.

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They jam here for the same reasons as everywhere else: for the pure enjoyment of playing and to keep the mountain music traditions alive. It’s mainly bluegrass and old-time, gospel mixed with a little bit of country.

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The regular Friday night jam in the small village of Marion is named after a longtime local musician: Woody’s Original Mountain Music. Doors open at 6 pm and the music starts an hour later. Admission is free. Bands sign to be in the lineup and the list is posted up front. No one ever knows how many bands will show.

People were as interested in who we were and where we were from as we were about their fierce protection of traditional Appalachian mountain music.

The jam opens with a short prayer, led by Pastor Collins. Before and after, his wife mans the dessert table – thick calorie-laden slices of pie and cake fly off the shelf at 50 cents apiece. The goal is to keep the whole evening affordable.

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The town is small but this event draws a regular crowd. Seats were quickly filled and new chairs are hustled to the sides. All were accommodated. The music and good vibes flow freely.

More info: Blue Ridge Music Trails of North Carolina

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!

More Ocracoke: Blackbeard has a bad day

Almost anywhere you go on the Atlantic coast of South Carolina, the spectre of Blackbeard looms. Just the name evokes mystery, danger and terror — much more than does “Edward Teach,” his real name. Who could be terrified of Edward? Though only active for a couple of years, he cut a swath down this seashore that resonates in story and legend to this day.

What’s the big deal? You have to see the coastline and contemplate the enormous number of wrecks to understand why piracy was so appealing to those who engaged in it. The larger ships lay lower in the water – their captains did not know the perilous shoals as thoroughly as the lighter, higher riding, pirates. So it was easy pickings for those willing to risk an encounter with the British Navy.

In one consequential encounter of November 22, 1718, Blackbeard tricked a British Navy lieutenant named Robert Maynard into chasing him across shallow water with sixty men in two boats, which Maynard promptly ran aground. That gave Blackbeard, with only 18 men on his sloop, the opportunity to train his guns on Maynard and, in one broadside, kill or wound half of Maynard’s crew. As far as the locals on Ocracoke know, Blackbeard had never killed anyone before that encounter, though he captured something like 40 ships in less than two years of piracy.

But that November day did not end happily, as it turns out, for Edward “Blackbeard” Teach because Maynard – though outgunned and out-foxed in the shallow waters of the Outer Banks – managed to lure Blackbeard’s crew onto one of his disabled sloops where he had secreted 20 men below decks with muskets and swords. Blackbeard’s boarding party was overwhelmed and Blackbeard himself suffered no less than five bullet and 20 sword wounds according to the official report of his death. To seal the deal, Maynard beheaded Blackbeard.

Legend has it that the headless body of Blackbeard – dead in his late 30s – swam seven times around lieutenant Maynard’s ship. But the locals doubt he could have managed more than two. In any event, Maynard carried the head back to the mouth of the Hampton River where he posted it as a warning to others contemplating a life of piracy.

Local schooner captain Rob Temple is an expert on Blackbeard and has been part of a History channel series as well as contributed to a National Geographic series on pirates.

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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).

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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.

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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.

Words on the page

Our stories and articles appear in Canadian magazines and online.

Spring and fall, we load the van – with everything from guitars to laptops – toss in a thick bundle of maps, several notebooks and roll down the road. We meet great people, gather wonderful story material and then write, write, write. Browse the links to some of our pieces in print:

BIG TRIP #1: ROOTS OF AMERICAN MUSIC: 9,000 km through the Southeast U.S.

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BIG TRIP #2: TUNES, RUINS & STARS: 13,000 km across the American Southwest

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BIG TRIP #3: HUGGING THE ATLANTIC COASTLINE; MUSIC INLAND: 7,064 km

Google Maps Big Trip #3 PDF-page-001

BIG TRIP #4: ROCK & ROLL: 10,950 km exploring western U.S. National Parks

 MISCELLANEOUS