Ocracoke

“O Cock Crow, O Cock Crow” is what “they” say that Blackbeard, the pirate, who lived and died locally, chanted to bring the dawn and name this island of Ocracoke…

We have had an adventure here this chilly dawn. Yesterday afternoon Michael processed oil at Cape Hatteras then we proceeded to miss the toll ferry between Ocracoke and Cedar Island so we had to drive out to the beach again to sneak a night’s camp.
This time the beach was less packed down and we got stuck in the sand above the high tide line. Michael wisely decided to wait til dawn to address this but I had trouble thinking of it as a permanent home and there was no truck in town that would have had the muscle to pull us out. (The voyager weighs about 10,000 pounds.) The fine fisherfolk came over to lend a shoulder in the dawn but it wasn’t needed, if you let enough air out of the tires eventually you “float” the sand in four wheel drive.
While re-inflating the tires at the village baitshop a rugged looking man started talking to me. Michael thought at first that he was Australian but it turned out he was a local North Carolinian. He is disgusted by the changes in the village, which sure seems cute and touristy. He said, “They say they want to keep it the way it is then they get in and make it the way it was where they came from. It’s all about the green (rubbing his index finger and thumb together.”) Somehow our truck inspires kinship among outdoorsmen from Dixie north through Canada, even without going into the veggie oil spiel.
It’s a narrow strip of heaven, that’s for sure, even if it does have the tourist curse. ‘Twas a spirited dawning me hearties.