Category Archives: culinary travel

Banjo + Shelby = Earl Scruggs

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The banjo warrants a lot more respect than it generally gets. The place to learn this – if you doubt us – is the Earl Scruggs Center in Shelby, North Carolina. The instrument came to America in the holds of slave ships: like many other imports, it was taken up and embraced by the Irish/Scots settlers and remade into a distinctly American phenomenon. And of the many who have picked out a song there is no one with the stature of homeboy Earl Scruggs (1924-2012). This hardscrabble son of a sharecropper did for the banjo what Jimi Hendrix did for the electric guitar: he showed everyone what was possible.

Shelby is at the hub of the Blue Ridge Music Trails of North Carolina, which wind through the foothills of the state. This region produced more than its share of country, bluegrass, old-time and gospel music – and the fusing of these styles gave rise to a uniquely American sound and sensibility. Performed at the level of execution that Scruggs and someone like comedian Steve Martin achieve, it is nothing short of breathtaking to listen to. If your first impression of Earl Scruggs calls to mind the theme music of the Beverly Hillbillies, well, okay. Flatt and Scruggs have impressed themselves into popular music and culture forever.

But the three-finger rolling style that Scruggs innovated — “ten notes per second with a melody in the middle of it” — transformed that instrument and launched, with Bill Monroe, a style that finds a massive worldwide audience and paved the way for next generation innovators like Béla Fleck, the jazz banjo virtuoso.

The Earl Scruggs Center does justice to his music and history. Centred in downtown Shelby, it is a state of the art exhibition – complete with a banjo petting zoo – that brings you into Scruggs’ life, his art and his politics.

Your first encounter is with the instruments of his childhood, behind glass, where you see his fathers’ guitar and violin. Music, you discern, was their only form of entertainment growing up in the hill country around Shelby.

The Center tells this story in multiple interactive ways. You can strum an electronic banjo or guitar at a large interactive digital video table where you can also isolate individual tracks to hear them out of context from the music. You can review the history of early bluegrass – from the union of Bill Monroe and Earl Scruggs – and then trace the history of Earl through his opposition to the Vietnam War and his fusion of his cherished bluegrass with the rock music of his sons, in the Earl Scruggs Review, in the early 1970s. It’s fascinating and sobering and you come away with a whole new respect for the man and the music.

The coolest thing about Scruggs was that he carried the music he loved all his life into every change that came through his life – “chasing the light,” as he described it, never letting his fingers rest until he picked his last roll.

ALSO IN THE AREA:

  • The Don Gibson Theater is an intimate (400 seats), soft-seat concert and film venue. Don Gibson is best known for his country hit, I Can’t Stop Loving You, which has been recorded by more than 700 artists.
  • The local Alston Bridges BBQ serves pulled pork with a vinegar-based sauce (true North Carolina style), hushpuppies and their signature red slaw (ketchup is the secret addition).

Macon: “Something in the water”

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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.

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.

“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.

Gracious Savannah

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Savannah is a city for walking.

It’s the southernmost of a trio of towns and cities that embody the grace and architecture of the Old South: Charleston, Beaufort and Savannah. They are all beautiful and inclusive today but they have histories rooted in the plantation-era days of enormous wealth concentrated in the hands of very few, built on the backs of tens of thousands of slaves brought in from West Africa. We kept this in mind as we looked in awe at the stately mansions that were once the home of plantation owners and cotton brokers and strolled along the historic riverfront.

We actually started our tour with a ride into the heart of the downtown National Historic Landmark district on the hop-on/hop-off Old Savannah Tours trolley (it was dog-friendly, so Rigby hopped onboard too). We got off at Chippewa Square – the green square where Ton Hanks sat on a bus stop bench in the movie Forrest Gump. Savannah was designed on a system of grids – the whole city is a very orderly crosshatch of streets punctuated by large green public squares. Streets and squares are lined by a cathedral of trees: enormous live oaks, hanging with Spanish moss.

When General Sherman arrived in Savannah he was so taken with the city that he sent a telegram to President Lincoln handing the city to the president as a Christmas present. Savannah was spared Sherman’s March to the Sea.

We were fascinated by the infusion of Gullah culture (the Gullah people of the Lowcountry trace their rich heritage to the African slaves brought in from the Angola region of West Africa). In the vernacular of the Gullah, the word haints means ghosts. Look on the ceiling of many front porches (from small cottages to large mansions) and you’ll find it has been painted blue. The Gullah people believe the colour blue keeps the haints
away.

We walked and walked along cobbled streets made from the stones and bricks that were packed as ballast into the holds of ships that crossed the Atlantic as part of The Triangular Trade (goods from Europe to West Africa; West African slaves to the New World; plantation goods such as sugar and cotton from ports like Savannah to Europe). Savannah emerged as the major port in the state of Georgia.

All that walking deserves a little indulgence. And that’s how we finished our day in Savannah – with lunch and ice cream at the famous Leopold’s Ice Cream. Leopold’s has been around for almost 100 years and has developed quite a following (it regularly makes the list of best ice cream shops in the world). The patio out from was dog friendly and they even brought Rigby her own tiny cone in a cup. Now, that’s Southern hospitality!

Savannah in the artistic community:

  • The bus stop/park bench scenes in Forrest Gump were filmed at Chippewa Square.
  • In Something To Talk About, Julia Roberts peers into a downtown restaurant and sees her philandering husband at dinner with another woman.
  • Savannah resident Johnny Mercer wrote Moon River while at his downtown home.
  • Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil was completely filmed in Savannah.
  • The Civil War film, Glory, was filmed in and around the city.

South Carolina’s beautiful Lowcountry

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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

Beaufort . . . is amazing

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

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.

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.

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?).

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.

A stretch called Down East

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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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

It was a perfect way to end a perfect day!

Ocracoke is a state of mind

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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.
  • 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.
  • 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

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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.

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).

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.

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.

Like we said, the bar is set high.

They call it OBX: North Carolina’s Outer Banks

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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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

 

 

 

Getting to where we’re going

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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.

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.