It began auspiciously enough: a clear blue Sunday, a full tank of gas, no shortage of listenable music on the radio, no traffic to speak of. In five hours I was cruising down the Croatan Highway, aka the Bypass, toward the Surfcaster, at milepost 17 on Old Oregon Inlet Road in South Nags Head.
I passed a green Cherokee and its driver honked obnoxiously at me. "I don't know what she's honking about I am not going that fast," I said with an attitude, giving her a look, before I realized that the Jeep was from Connecticut and contained my three companions, Jennifer, Anna, and Tavy. We caravaned to the house.
I had expected cold weather, and although I prefer the sun I had gotten excited anticipating brisk, damp walks on an empty beach.
I did not expect the wind. We could not comfortably be outside for more than five minutes. Our favorite part of the day was getting into the car to drive to the outlet mall; our second favorite part was shopping at the outlet mall. Or was it E! True Hollywood Story? Or the teriyaki-marinated mahi mahi/black bean burritos with Anna's Bachelor Chutney we cooked twice?
On Thursday, at last, it was a clear perfect day in the 70s. I drove down highway 12 through Oregon Inlet, Rodanthe, Waves, Buxton, Avon, and Salvo to Hatteras Village where I drove right on to the ferry to Ocracoke. On the island, I found my friend Jenny's house, which her dad built on her family's property. I recognized her car outside, and confirmed I was in the right place when I saw the bike parked outside had two Hemingway books in its basket. Then I found out that they were my Hemingway books, which Charles borrowed two years before and was returning.
During my short Ocracoke stay we visited the coffee shop and the new location of Books to Be Red, in the back of the coffeeshop. We drank Yuengling lagers in the sun and watched the charter boats bring in their haul (mostly dolphin, and a yellowfin). With Jenny's dad and sister Cathy, we cooked and ate fresh shrimp, fresh black bass with parmesan crust, beets, beet greens, and rice. Cathy's boyfriend Jason served us red wine at the tiki bar at the Pelican. And in the morning, Jenny left for a wilderness first aid course in Raleigh, and I went back to Nags Head with strep throat.
I couldn't believe that I was sick, now that the weather was beautiful. As soon as the amoxycillin kicked in on Saturday I took one last walk on the beach, down to the pier. Then it was the part of vacation I love best: We were sandy and greasy with sunblock; we took showers and put on nice clothes and went out to dinner smelling like soap, with our hair still damp.
But the best part was yet to come. At dusk, back at the house, I walked up our steps toward the beach and looked out at the ocean. It was misty blue and blended seamlessly into the sky. A full moon hung low, and dolphins swam south along the beach.
