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…









The Outer Banks Experience

This past week found us on vacation with my family in Waves/ Rodanthe North Carolina.

Each year my parents try to juggle everyone’s schedules in an effort to get some quality family time; they have devised plans from family cruises to beach house rentals over the years, and as everything came into alignment for 2011 we were all able to pack it up and head down to the beach.

It’s unusual for Ash and I to stay in the luxury of a beach house, and we jumped at the chance to experience the beach from a different perspective.

That being said we are not tent camping purist that would just as soon choke on granola then stay under the confines of 4 walls while at the beach, and as a bonus, it’s really cool to spend time with the family.

There are however some obvious differences between camping on an uninhabited island and spending a week at a vacation house.

Bikini, beer, and boogie board, the wife in her natural vacation habitat

After years of intensive prodding and occasional ridicule we were able to convince my parents and brother that vacationing in Nags Head proper was akin to spending a week at a NASACAR race with the exception of the whole ocean thing, and that piece of mind and total relaxation could be found just a stone’s throw further south.

I will concede that it’s not easy to plan a family vacation around my hermit sensibility and my fanatical devotion to my dogs and that they accompany us everywhere, and my mother did a masterful job taking everyone’s “wants” into account when she picked the rental.

One of the first things Ash and I had to work our way around was the sheer number of people on the beach on a sunny day, but add some clouds, a few thunder claps, and intermittent rain and the number of beachgoers became dramatically reduced.


Parents braving an afternoon storm as others flee for cover


Our best option for crowd management was a short drive to beach access ramp #34 on the Cape Hatteras National Seashore where we simply drove away from people to get a little more room to stretch our legs for fishing and surfing.

I have been going to the Outer Banks since 1990’ish to do what I consider to be some of the gnarliest spasmodic renditions of surfing in modern human history, but I do have fun, and this trip Ash decided that she wanted to get in on the action, so we added yet another stick to my quiver of boards from the Rodanthe Surf Shop. (Nice folks)

The "bent monkey" surfing stance 


If you’re paying attention a family vacation can provide one of those moments where you think to yourself, ‘This is it, this is what matters”…

My epiphany occurred at 5:38am with the sun breaking over the horizon as my father and I cast our lines into the Atlantic Ocean.

My wife was there to capture the moment in time, proof positive that an image can be priceless.


Pops trying his hand at retirement 


Most evenings you could find me manning the charcoal grill as the family got together to enjoy fresh clams, shrimp, scallops, and Red Snapper from Austin’s South Island Seafood & Produce Company. (The Snapper was truly phenomenal).



Although it was a family vacation Ash and I still found time to steal away for a moonlit bike ride or a dinner for two.

Our “Date night” would be at Good Winds Seafood & Wine Bar where we sampled braised alligator, Sashimi Tuna, duck spring rolls, and Mahi Tacos. (Good food, good craft beer selection, although I can only surmise that I must have reminded our young female bartender of her father whom she still holds some degree of resentment towards).

Sunset over the sound at Good Winds

Family vacations with the swirling noise of kids bounding from the pool to the hot tub and back, the sounds of constant conversation interrupted by brief moments of reflection, water balloon fights, early morning runs, and trying to chase down the sunset on the single speed in the diminished evening light, it’s good for the soul…

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.