Ocracoke, North Carolina 9/16/1998

On September 16, I left Washington about 8 in hopes of getting a ticket for the ferry that would leave Swanquarter at 9:30 to transport Ziggy and me across the Pamlico Sound. I passed the cotton, soybean, and harvested tobacco fields intermingled with tall pines in quite a fog, not my mental state, but the weather conditions of the morning. I saw farmers loading up their tobacco to take somewhere and quite a few of the no longer used tall, skinny, always green tobacco barns that dot the countryside

Ocracoke is a tiny fishing village where most people are walking or riding bikes to tour. I am so glad I have my bicycle along but my legs know I should have worked into it more gradually. Ocracoke is on the southern tip of Ocracoke Island and was originally called Pilot Town as it was settled by pilots who guided ships through the inlet and shallow sound waters. It is a quiet fishing village in the winter with a population of 2,000 and a bustling tourist town in the summer with 20,000 and I can only imagine they walk shoulder to shoulder.
I located the Beachcomber RV park after a quick tour of the visitor center. I picked the only spot with a cluster of cedar trees to provide some shade.

I hopped aboard the bike after carefully filling my backpack with necessary items such as the Visa card and rode to the Creekside Cafe where an upstairs balcony provided me a nice view of the water while I ate some blues, french fries, and hushpuppies.

The 75 foot tall Ocracoke Lighthouse is the state's oldest operating lighthouse built in 1823. It emits one long flash every few seconds which can be seen 14 miles from shoretower is brick, covered by hand-spread, textured white mortar. The walls at the base are five feet thick.

Then I rode over to the British Cemetery where four British sailors are buried. Their bodies washed ashore during World War II after their ship was torpedoed by Germans.

I finally found Howard Street which I kept missing because it looked more like a driveway. It is the oldest street in town and is a narrow unpaved path lined with large oaks. Old houses with cisterns outside are on this street and at the end are several cemetery plots with fences around little groups of graves.

I stopped by the Methodist Church. The cross displayed behind the altar was carved from the wooden spar of an American freighter, the Caribsea, that was sunk offshore by German U boats in the early part of 1942. The engineer was a native from Ocracoke. Several days later his license supposedly washed ashore not far from his family home.

When I got back to the campground there was a very noisy generator just across the street from Ziggy. After I inquired and learned that it would be turned off at seven it seemed the perfect time to drive a few miles down the road and access the beach. I walked along watching the waves and seagulls and sometimes wading a few feet into the water.

What a day on the Outer Banks! The Outer Banks consist of a string of narrow islands and peninsulas that lie between the ocean and the sounds along 125 miles of the coast.