The surf report was calling for a nice swell, so the four of us headed out early on Wednesday to catch some surf at The Cove. This involved loading up our surfboards onto Izzy's rig and put-put-putting out ourselves on the bike. The "road" out to The Cove was swollen with foot-deep puddles and ruts that gave way to deep sand and a beach drive that our rig wouldn't have been able to make more than a few yards headway on before getting horribly stuck. (A word to prospective truck buyers: get four wheel drive, you'll need it someday).
As we cruised past some of the best surf fishing in the country, curving into the protected inlet of The Cove, the waves got smaller and more shapeless. We kept up our hopes and made our way all the way to the other entrance, where we saw good waves in the midst of mush, set up day camp and headed out into the water. The four of us paddled around over the rolling beach break, but the direction of the swell and the level of the tide simply didn't make any ride-able waves. The wind was picking up, however, so B put up the 11.0 and caught the waves with the aid of the kite.
B making good of the wind at The Cove.
Meanwhile, Izzy put on her brown leather riding boots to complete her green flowered bikini and cowboy hat and hopped aboard the bike for a trial run on the beach. (For those of your watching out there, do not attempt to try this stunt at home. It's definitely for trained professionals only.)
Classic Izzy in the absence of surf.
As the afternoon came on, we left the surfless Cove, and Brant and I were escorted by the National Park Service across sacred turtle egg-laying boundaries...which move every day as the rangers see fit. Thems must be some smart turtles.
We cruised by the lighthouse on the way out, and the surf was perfect. By the time we got there, it was getting too blown out, but apparently folks had been dropping in on perfect peelers all morning in glassy conditions. Izzy, the surf addict, practically started crying. So we took them kiteboarding, and they both moved into the board phase before it got dark.
They'd been tempting us with stories for days of the Orange Blossom Cafe, and Thursday morning we woke early to fulfill the promise of fresh-baked biscuit sandwiches before hitting the surf. The place, a tiny house-cum-bakery in Buxton, was absolutely packed. In addition to the main course, they served up a whole ration of donuts and pastries, including these massive lumps of dough which they endearingly called "apple uglies." They're a mix of bear-claw and fritter, only no one made any pretense about the shape...the only concern was the taste. Instead of making their appearance a downfall, they exploited it. And from that morning on, a trip to the Orange Blossom for apple uglies became routine...an integral part of the Hatteras surf experience.
Aryn in the bottom turn.
Our friends had plans to meet up with family, so we knew their time with us was short, and had already been extended near its limit. We spent their last few windless days here surfing at the lighthouse, tripping out to Ocracoke Island for lunch and a scathing game of Tag on the beach, and looking forward to a last hurrah at The Mad Crabber on Friday, where a reggae band was going to jam. Well, as I write this we've almost forgiven them, but they left on Friday afternoon....so the dancing into the wee hours never occured, and the only Bob Marley covers we heard came from our own vocal chords.
The Road Crew.
Saturday we caught up on work we'd neglected, then headed to Kite Point in the evening. There were more kiters out than we had ever seen before: nearly a dozen kites were flying when we got on the water. And the parking lot at the Hole was chock full, with mostly Canadian plates. We had hoped to have a repeat session on Sunday, but even though we got the rig down to the Hole early, the day never warmed up past 55 degrees, and the sun took the day off completely. That didn't stop the windsurfers though, who were rigging and sailing through the beating rain and under the cloudy sky. We spent the day inside, debating our plans and trying to figure out when we'd need to leave Hatteras. It's time to get on the road again...
