From the Pacific to the Pirate Coast.

“Now and then we had a hope that if we lived and were good, God would permit us to be pirates.”

― Mark Twain, Life on the Mississippi

Ash and I had just returned from Costa Rica with a renewed sense of adventure that we wanted to keep stoked. So keeping in step with the idea of "just going" Ash secured a last minute reservation on the Portsmouth Island Ferry, and we were off once again. 

For me, this trip was born from the idea that I could potentially surf both oceans in the same year. 

For me "surfing" is a relative term, it is certainly the hardest thing I have tired to do, and while I have been "surfing" for years I pretty much suck.

So the concept of surfing for me has always been about surrounding myself in the elements more so than the act of surfing itself. I feel that I have a personal relationship with the sea because of those experiences (both good & bad)  

  

Another aspect of the trip was that it was our second beach camping excursion with our son, who was now 18 months old. 

On that note,don't let anyone every try and convince you that this idea is impossible. In a time where kids are inundated with electronic gadgets we as parents are the driving force in building their foundation and love for the outdoors. Kids respond to nature, they embrace it, so feed off of their wonder. It will make you a better person and parent.  

This trip came with a special kind of souvenir, in the first hour of setting up camp I managed to slice my wrist open cutting off a zip tie. Being tired, and not paying attention has its consequences. If you plan on going remote, be it beach camping, backpacking or mountain biking, carry a first aid kit. This would have been a "trip-killer" without it.  

"There will be blood" 

"recovering" from the injury 

   

Consistently amazed by this woman

Coast to coast in 3 weeks.

Loving life, a new generation of pirates

After countless trips to the island, we remain awe struck by its effect. Turning the adventure into a family experience only adds to the story. This place, with all of it's bugs, sudden storms, and endless sunrises & sunsets has captivated us for going on 6 years. 

Stars, Christmas lights & craft beer

Sunset at the camp

follow their sense of wonder

Trust me when I say that I wasn't completely convinced on the idea of children,and the trade off has been having them at a much later age. But know this, I wouldn't trade it for the world, and what we give them is what they get. 

Realize and embrace the profound affect  of wonder in both you and your kids, it doesn't go away, we just turn our backs on it over time, my son has reinvigorated me, and restored my sense of wonder and adventure.

So here is to living the "Peter Pan" lifestyle, whenever it may be.   

These things that matter most...

I will show you the Pirate Coast

"But the love of adventure was in father's blood"

-Buffalo Bill

It would be an exercise in futility  to try and describe the expressions on some of our friends and families faces when we first hatched the idea of beach camping with our 4 month old son, and while I was not surprised by their reaction, it should come as no surprise that we would carry out what we had said all along.

The baby would be an extension of our lifestyle, not a detractor.

To say that I didn't have a measure of anxiety as we slowly cruised across Core Sound would be shortsighted, I was well aware of the unique challenges that come with beach camping on Portsmouth Island and I was about to introduce my infant son to an environment that can go from pristine to violent in the time it takes for the wind to change direction.

 

As things go, mother nature appeared to mock my decision making and thick rain clouds began to stack up in the distance  while we set up camp for the first night.

 

While I love adventure, I try not to be fool hearty about placing my family in compromising situations, should the need arise,  our "back-up" plan would be to retreat to the Tacoma if things got too sketchy for the tent.

Our first 2 nights on the island would test my resolve with seemingly endless bands of thunderstorms that rumbled in from the sound then drifted down the beach only to regroup off shore.

 

Emotions collide with reason in these situations, and there was a degree of unspoken tension as Ash and I sat on the tailgate of the truck sipping beer  watching magnificent lighting strikes out over the sea wondering if we had made the right decision.

To say that these situations are surreal would be an understatement, think what you like, but camping on an uninhabited island is not Disney Land and there are certain risk that have to be taken into consideration.

That being said, the feeling of sitting there with Ash in that moment is still with me, which is the entire point of going.

 

 

So the babies' first camping trip went off without a hitch, there were no boogie men lying in wait, the mosquitoes did not carry him off, wild animals did stalk our site (that we are aware of), and not a single shark breached the depths of the ocean to try and rob us of our newborn son, and while a few thunderstorms did create a short lived pucker factor, the trip and the memories it created illustrate that life doesn't end with the introduction of a child, it begins... again...  

Stephen
 

 

 

 

Under The Black Flag; Part I

Ash and I just got back from our fourth trip to Portsmouth Island NC, and I think it makes sense to first provide a bit of information about the island.

For the uninitiated Portsmouth is an uninhabited island south of Ocracoke in the Cape Lookout National Seashore.

The National Parks Service manages the Island.

“Morris Marina” a private family owned ferry business out of Atlantic NC transports visitors to the island and deposits them at the village of rustic cabin rentals run by the NPS near mile marker 16.

The "Donza Lee" on her way

The village has a public bath house, fish cleaning station with potable water, and the park service sells ice and unleaded gasoline at $5 plus a gallon should you need to fill up.

That is the sum total of services on the Island. (Morris Marina will ferry just about any requested item over to you by simply calling their office.)

There are a few interesting dynamics of note on Portsmouth.

You have the fishermen, who travel up & down the beach in incredible fishing rigs searching for red drum.

Once they figure out that you’re not a poacher or a jerk they have invaluable advice about fishing gear, tackle, bait, and hot spots on the island.

Very much like the family who runs Morris Marina, these folks are the soul of Portsmouth Island. (Realize that there is so much more history to this that can’t be covered here)

Then you have the National Park Service employees.

Biologist, Bio-techs, Rangers…folks like that. (Understand the difference between a government agency and the people who work for it)

The Biologist and techs are there to research coastal birds and sea turtles that do their thing on the island.

An osprey eyes the ferry as we pass

Because nature has to do its thing the NPS will either restrict or close certain sections of beach to foot and vehicle traffic to protect the wildlife.

The Rangers enforce all of the laws on the island like checking fishing permits, and catch regulations, as well as monitoring that no one violates beach closer areas.

Go through a restricted area and expect to get a $150.00 fine.

I have yet to have a single issue with anyone from the NPS, and for our part they have been friendly, informative, and professional.

There are however rumors both past and present of over zealous Rangers, and I can say that at least 2 groups of people who accompanied us on our ferry ride back went home with lighter wallets due to various infractions on the island.

 

Part II follows...

Under The Black Flag; Part II

Pos-i-tiv-ism:

-noun

1. The state or quality of being positive; definiteness; assurance.

Nobody likes that negative person, you know the one, no matter what the situation, even in times of great enjoyment, finds fault, takes issue, or just looks like a sour puss.

I try to avoid this at all cost; my posts are intentionally crafted to be positive, even when there are negative aspects involved.

That being said, the extraordinary view of  a sunrise as it bathes the camp site in the early morning hours, or the sunset that bids the island a fond farewell in the evening light, comes at a price.

Our Portsmouth trips have cost us both material goods, and ego.

Anyone who has spent time outdoors knows that you have to pay the piper when he claims his due for the tune.

So on this trip Portsmouth brought us calm…

Beautiful weather, fair weather, with a fair weather breeze that whispered down the beach just enough to make the pirate flag flutter. 

All was well, as we enjoyed grilled shrimp, hamburgers and dogs, and each other’s company.

I put a lot of hours in surf fishing as I continue to learn the finer points of the trade, and the fishing was steady.

Call it complacency, or unpreparedness, but I decided for whatever reason not to fill the 4-Runner with gas as we waited for the ferry… (Paradise has a way of dulling logical thoughts I suppose).

This bit of oversight left us with around a half tank of gas for the island.

That’s plenty for normal circumstances.

But then this trip would prove to be “abnormal”.

We had made our way back from the ranger station to replenish ice that had long since melted in the July heat and were feeling refreshed from a quick shower as we set out to cook breakfast.

But something was different; the green heads were still around, but their nuisance had grown familiar to us and we had taken steps to mitigate their impact, in other words, no biggie on the green headed biting bastards.

Around the same time that we realized that the wind had changed to an off-shore direction which inspired thoughts of hollow waves we noticed a few black flies in our camp, then we noticed more..and more…and that they were biting us and the dogs.

Within 15 minutes our black Pit-Bull Whiskey had sustained hundreds of bites and the fact that she had over 6o black flies clumped on just one of her legs was testament to the fact that things were getting worse.

We rushed the dogs into the 4-Runner, cranked the AC and Ash administered Benadryl to Whiskey as her face grew contorted and swollen from the effects of the bites.

We were legitimately frightened that she was in serious trouble as we struggled to move the entire camp site away from the dunes and closer to the ocean and its forgiving breeze.

Fortunately Whiskey’s condition improved but not before she would vomit on the side of my head as we laid silent in the still midnight air of the new tent.



The next day was spent with Ash hydrating the dogs from the confines of the tent’s interior which we had moved under the shade of our pre-fab tarp.

It was grueling to say the least, as our planned relaxation gave way to taking care of the dogs, (and each other), as the oppressive heat of the day crept on.

But the stars in the sky care not for the concerns of flies, and as we sat underneath their twinkled blanket, things didn’t seem so bad.

The privilege of seeing a “shooting star” as it streaks across a starry sky never loses its luster.

As my concerns grew about having enough fuel in the 4-runner to stow the dogs for an extended period of time we our way back to the ranger station again to pay a premium price for not thinking ahead.

The dogs recovered nicely and on our last full day on the island we moved our awning to the water’s edge where we had a blast plucking blues from the surf as the entire ocean came alive in a concert of gulls, pelicans, and bait fish as they played their parts in a never ending aquatic storyline.

Groggy but feeling better

While the trip failed to provide us with the relaxation we had hoped for, and instead became a test of our resolve, we never lost focus of being together and appreciating the time that we have.

And as we plodded through the channel back to the marina we conspired with the ferry’s first mate on when we would return…









Chasing Black Beard

A stormy history continues...

The wind whipped up grains of loose sand that peppered my face as I drove stakes into the ground in what would ultimately become a feeble attempt at securing the awning that we carried with us for shade. Ash steadily snapped photos of the storm front as I smugly secured the camp site for the evening. “That should hold” I thought to myself, “besides, we have crossed this path before, it’s just a thunder storm”...




Fast forward to 3am the next morning, the tent began to shake and rattle but nothing that would cause alarm; the guy lines were secure and dispersed the weight of the wind as it whipped around the tent. Then came the rain, not just any rain, and while it’s hard to describe this kind of rain, rest assured that it was comparable to what one would envision if they were camping under a waterfall.

I sat up "Indian style" on my Thermarest pad and observed the fact that “Blitzy” our 60 pound Pit-Bull had wrapped herself around me with her head in my lap apparently cowering because of the deafening noise of the rain beating down on the tent, “She’s not afraid of anything, this is so weird”, curiously enough, Ash was sleeping comfortably beside me with the notion of "I can't do anything about the storm now"...

Ash was right, and the storm kept coming, between the flashes of lighting I tried in vain to see through the walls of the tent to get some measure of what was going on outside. “Damn, we are downwind from the gear”, I grabbed my “Osprey” pack and stood it up between us and what I assumed would be the flying debris from the camp site to give us some protection from projectiles. A strange whoosh noise left me wondering what had taken flight in the pitch black night.

Finally the rains dissipated enough to where I felt comfortable enough to stick my melon out without worry about receiving a head wound.

I stumbled outside to find the awning had totally failed. To give you some idea of what I mean by total failure, it looked as if a giant took his hand and "palmed" the camp site into the sand. Nothing was spared, as everything got a piece of the action.

Ash and I spent the next few hours regrouping...

As is always the case, the sun rose the next morning and we reconfigured the site to accommodate our needs. This was day one of our trip to the island but we were rewarded with one of the most relaxing and romantic ventures we have yet to take.


Sunset over the sound


July 4th on an East Coast beach without another soul in sight, remarkable


Red wine by candle light


While any fish of note continue to elude me, my hopes of filleting a fresh catch then throwing it on the grill are only part of what makes this place so special and why we are already scanning our calendars for the next trip.