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And so begins stage three of our adventure. Destination Hatteras Island at the southern end of the North Carolina Outer Banks, known locally at the Outers or the OBX. Prior to organising this trip I had no knowledge that this area existed. For those of you like me, it's a collection of small islands connected by one long road and a series of bridges. I've never been down to the Florida Keys but I would imagine that there are comparisons which could be drawn.
Our journey was slow, mostly due to stringent speed limits and to an expressway which was anything but. A 55 mph limit and a set of traffic lights do not equal express in my vocabulary!
It was, of course, beautiful to see the shift in scenery from the lush green woods of Virginia to the flat and coastal North Carolina, although latterly this was marred by the inevitable presence of vast expanses of tourist tat commercial outlets.
At the head of the Outers is Roanoke Island. Site of one of our first and failed settlements back in the day and former home to the"lost tribe", the Croatan, who disappeared without a trace. As far as I'm aware
we do not know whether they upped and left or were wiped out by our forefathers. I'm hoping the former but with our track record in mind I wouldn't like to put money on it....
Roanoke Island is beautiful. We had lunch at the Hungry Pelican deli overlooking the boats and activity in the harbour in beautiful sunshine.
Back on the road we entered the Outers. To our left the Sound. So wide it is mostly impossible to see its far banks. To our right the Atlantic. In between, mile upon mile of shops selling tee shirts and other tourist tat, regularly interspersed with large billboards advertising eateries or real estate agents. My favourite ads were for Dirty Dicks crab house - "I got my crabs at Dirty Dicks" and "over 1 million t shirts sold" being my personal two favourites - I can only assume the food isn't good enough to shout about...
We were also tempted to pay a visit to a shop called "Try My Nuts" but sadly time was against us on that one.
About half way down is Pea Island. A mercifully non-commercialised nature reserve whee only the road separates the Sound from the high
dunes of the Atlantic. We climbed said dunes and looked down on a shoreline which stretched as far as the eye could see. When I was younger my dad used to take me yo to the towans above Gwithian beach in the evenings. As we breathed in the always fresh air he would remark that "the last time anyone breathed that they were in America". Well there we were breathing it back! We looked out over about a dozen pelicans flying out to sea towards our home and took a moment.
The coast lacks the rugged beauty afforded by the North Cornish cliffs but makes up for it in scale and climate! Just as beautiful but in a slightly different way...
Our hotel is on the Sound side of the road, a small and friendly place north of Hatteras Village. The attached photos were taken from our balcony and we are enjoying a day of R and R before hitting the road again.
Talking of the road, another cultural difference to note. In Washington there was a predominance of Toyota hybrid cars, with Ford equivalents being heavily advertised on the TV. Down here the pick up truck is king. The bigger the better and hopefully with several fishing rods attached vertically to the front grill. As I walked past one parked up I noted that the top of its bonnet was level with my shoulder. I know I'm not tall but that's a lot of motor!!!!
At breakfast Bill took one for the team and ticked another culinary box - sausage gravy and biscuits. The gravy was nicely spiced and contained larger chunks of sausage than expected. The biscuits beneath were rather doughy, soggy and scone-like in their presentation. Suffice to say my fresh pineapple was delicious....
After a relaxing day of another visit to the beach and a game of mini golf I shall now indulge in a little reading, something I've not managed to do so far this week.
Tomorrow we drive to Pigeon Forge in Tennessee. By far the longest rum of our trip and at least 48 hours of radio silence from yours truly I predict as we regroup thereafter.
And so, as tradition now dictates, a thought for the day from our sponsor....
Wine. American wine. To paraphrase a WW2 saying, over-hyped, over priced and over here.I am all in favour of trying the local hooch where ever we go, I even gave Camel Valley a sniff-once. I can safely say that Merlot does not thrive in Virginia and Pinot Noir becomes thin and insipid in Oregon. Add to this restaurant prices for these offerings in excess of $40 then Coke becomes a much more attractive option.
Sorry USA but you can't be awesome at everything.
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