In early August 2021, the missus and I sallied forth on our annual vacation, attempting to escape the Florida heat by heading to… the beach.  “Now, Shpip,” you might ask, “Why in the name of all that is holy would you drive eleven hours to the Outer Banks when you have hundreds of miles of perfectly serviceable beaches a helluva lot closer?”  Good question.  Wanted to see something new, as far as I reckon.

 

We had decided on a condo in Hatteras, at the very southern tip of the Banks.  There’s one island further south, called Ocracoke, but it’s only accessible by ferry, and we weren’t able to make the trip.  As we drove in, a tropical depression had meandered from the Atlantic and parked itself off the eastern seaboard.  Hence, this was our view from the condo for the better part of a week:

Notice that the weather didn’t stop the fishermen.  When you spend fifteen hundred dollars or so to charter a boat, it’s going to take a storm that’s got a name to keep you on land.

Our one day of nice weather coincided with our plans to visit Kitty Hawk.  Having only vaguely seen the Bodie Island Lighthouse on our (dark, raining sideways) drive in, glimpsing it in daylight was refreshing.

 

 

From there we made our way to the Wright Brothers National Memorial.  I had, like every schoolboy, heard of the brothers and their first flight, but the memorial really brought home the tenacity and personal bravery of Orville and Wilbur.  Year after year of incremental testing, failure, re-testing, and improvement finally culminated in a first flight that… I won’t call it short, but the distance of that first flight is less than a competent second grade shortstop can throw a baseball.

 

 

The big stone on the left is the approximate take-off point.  The stones on the right commemorate the landing spots of flights one, two, and three.

Another perspective:

The monument to the brothers is truly impressive, but that is fitting for the type of pioneers whose never-quit attitude and willingness to take risks gave us the phrase “The Wright Stuff.”

On the way back to Hatteras, we drove through the town on Nag’s Head, which my wife insists was not named for her mother, and spied the absolute best name for a convenience store that I’ve ever run across.

As we neared our condo, the weather gave us one more break, as we got to see the famed Cape Hatteras lighthouse.  This is the tallest lighthouse on the east coast, measured from base to tip (others have their lights higher above sea level, as they are situated on hills or cliffs).  Notice how the paint scheme is subtly different from the light at Bodie Island.

A three minute drive away is a small plot that remembers two men in a nearly forgotten part of World War II history.  Just after Germany declared war on the US, Admiral Karl Dönitz initiated Operation Drumbeat against Allied shipping off the American coast.  The British moved several converted trawlers into the area to assist with anti-submarine efforts.  In April 1942, one such vessel, the San Delfino was sunk.  Of the crew of fifty seven, twenty four were lost that night. Among them was twenty-eight year old Fourth Engineer Officer Michael Cairns of the Royal Merchant Navy.  Locals carefully removed his body from the beach and buried it in a copse of woods near the lighthouse.  In May, the HMT Bedfordshire was also sunk with all hands.  Four bodies from the ship were recovered on Ocracoke and laid to rest in the village’s own cemetery.  A fifth, unrecognizable, was discovered on the Hatteras beach several days later.  Both the men on Hatteras now sleep within a few feet of each other.

 

 

The graves on Ocracoke are tended to by the locals, overseen by the Coast Guard station on the island.  On Hatteras, the National Park Service cares for the graves.  Each year on May 12, the anniversary of the Bedfordshire‘s sinking, members of the Coast Guard, the NPS, and the British War Graves Commission hold services at the two gravesites, so that these men’s sacrifice will not be forgotten.

 

I also found something that I wanted to incorporate into my house, should I choose to build one to order when Mrs. Shpip retires.  That’s the cocktail / sunset tower, seen here on the right.

 

Was the first half of the trip a bust?  Well, some would say that we spent a lot of money to drive a long way to spend a lot of time sitting in our beachfront condo watching the rain come down, but that was okay.  To us, at least, there’s something inherently calming about watching and listening to the ocean — the rhythm of the waves can do that.

We’ll be back.