Second
Leg--Williamsburg through the Outer Banks
The salient fact about the trip so far is that it's COLD.
Every time we inch south, the weather channel tells us about a new record
low in Atlanta or Orlando. The kids suggested we scrap the whole idea this
morning (37 degrees on the South Carolina border--there was ice on the ground)
and head to Mexico. Ben's alternative suggestion was to return to Maine where
"you can at least have fun in the cold". Anyway, here's the record from Williamsburg
to and through North Carolina's Outer Banks--a beautiful place no matter
the weather.
Remember
Mary's idea of driving ther RV down from Maine in November to avoid New
England in January? Well, the concept was right, but here we are on the day
of our scheduled departure for North Carolina--snowed in in Williamsburg.
There was a "freak" snowstorm the
day we arrived, and another (6 to 8 inches this time) a few days later. So
much for "freak".
The local news folks had their "StormCenter" hats on
and reported live (I'm not making this up) from the top of a salt pile.
I felt right at home.
Here I am, doing just what we had to
hoped to miss -- de-icing the top of the slide-out, determined to get on
the road, albeit a day late. (RV Tip of the Day--if snow is expected, close
the slide-out). Second
Tip: hot water works well, but having the sun out sure helps.
Below, Ben and I are hooking up the car for the first time. Like
everything else, it seemed complicated at first, but several repetitions
have made it feel routine. Once underway, you don't even notice that the car
is following; wide turns are a good idea, however. Saw a bumper sticker on
such a car (a "toad" in RV-talk) with the wonderful message, "Sorry to be
so slow, but I'm pushing this big RV".
We had a
quiet trip after finally escaping (so far) the snow in Tidewater Virginia
on Saturday (1/ 18/03). My handy truckers' digest warned of a low overpass
in I-64 south of Norfolk, so we wound our way through Portsmouth to the
North Carolina border. From there, we headed southeast to the Outer Banks,
the spectacular barrier islands along the Atlantic coast. Our plan there
was to visit our friends Drew and Lisa Wright and their three boys who we
know from the summer in Maine. We made it down a very narrow road and parked
in their absent neighbors' driveway (the Wright's was too short). We arrived
at their house just in time for this wonderful sunset over the sound.
The North
Carolina coast rivals Maine's in at least one respect--lighthouses. Here
is the Currituck Light, just north of Kitty Hawk. The Outer Banks seem to
have at least one such light about every 20 miles. We passed one at Hatteras,
Bodie Island, and Okracoke on our way south.
On Sunday
afternoon, we had an amazing experience--driving with the Wrights right
on the beach, all the way north to the Virginia line. Along the way, we
passed fishermen, walkers, lots of other drivers (pick-ups were the order
of the day), and a bunch of what looked like volunteer firemen setting a
gill net in the surf. There is no road here--the beach is the only thoroughfare
and so help me, there were big houses being built along the dunes, with
all the materials (and the occupants) getting there across the sand.
The real status symbol was a pick-up with a rod rack
on the front. Below is the gang checking out the shell of a sea turtle; no
sign it was hit by a car. That's Mary looking disgusted.
The most stunning
thing about this area is the amazing number of what can only be called mansions--really
big houses, five-plus bedrooms, three and four stories, row after row on
tiny lots, all straining to see the ocean. Unlike many other ocean front
areas, the Outer Banks is the land of the single family house as opposed
to condos and apartments. I drew two conclusions--1) buy waterfront
real estate, wherever, whenever, and however, and 2) this is a very wealthy
country. We saw something like half a billion dollars worth of (mostly part-time)
houses in about an hour. Here's just a small sample we saw getting on the
Hatteras ferry a couple of days later.
Of course, the highlight of the trip was a trip
to Kill Devil Hills and the site of the first powered flight, December 17,
1903. If you just let go and try to imagine the scene almost exactly a hundred
years ago, it's an awesome (in the truest sense of the word) experience.
The monument is impressive and offers a commanding view of the surrounding
island, but it's the simple stones showing the first take-off and landing
points and a replica of the sixty foot launch track that makes the hair
stand up on the back of your neck. The more you learn about this extraordinary
milestone, the more you realize that the Wright brothers were no tinkerers
who just stumbled upon a secret which had eluded man for all the ages past.
They were authentic geniuses who used a combination of
self-taught engineering (they discovered that the fundamental calculations
of lift on a wing were wrong), American ingenuity, and just plain hard work
(they made over 1,000 glides at Kitty Hawk over three years before trying
it with a motor) to literally go where no man had gone before. In the case
of the first flight, that was exactly 120 feet, through the air.
On the right is Darrell Collins, for 25 years one of
the Park guides at the Wright Brothers' National Historic Site. But he is
no ordinary guide--he is a historian, a born public speaker (I'll bet there's
some southern country preacher in his genes), and a purveyor of dreams.
It's pretty hard to hold the attention of a bunch or 10 and 12 year olds,
but he did it--with a combination of sheer knowledge (there seemed to be
no question about the Wrights which he couldn't answer) and genuine passion.
Finally, for today, here's Molly on Okracoke Island, site of a famous
event in an age where pirates used swords and pistols rather than modems
and scanners.
See you in Charleston, or maybe Acapulco.
