January 14, Departing Man-O-War, Abaco

January 14, 2012, Departing Man-O-War, Abaco

The partly cloud day finds us motoring to an anchorage North of Little Harbor on the Great Abaco Island.  Yesterday a cold front came through which plunged the temperatures into the low 70"s; very delightful by my standards.  The wind is steady a 15 kt so it will be a great day for exploring in the sail-yak and hopefully snorkeling once we anchor-up.

The last two nights found us at a Man-O-War Marina on Man-O-War Cay which is famed for boat building, sail making and because it is a safe harbor.  A long walk on a deserted Ocean beach brought us to a secluded home of a couple from Cape Cod who sailed here 7 years ago and never left.  

A walk to Lola's resulted in the purchase of yummy homemade cinnamon rolls and Bahamian bread for French toast breakfast tomorrow.  Everyday Lola bakes bread and cinnamon buns and delivers them to the two local grocery stores.  As we walked across the lawn towards her home she greeted us from the chair swing on the porch of her home.  At 76, she has been baking bread "forever" on the gas stove in her tidy kitchen.  Her husband collected the cash and regaled us with tales of living on the Island. Their "accent" was a bit of a challenge to understand as many initial consonants were left off and accents within words were in unfamiliar places. 

This morning Lola was on her golf cart delivering goodies to the bake sale at the high school (one room) where locals supporting locals were trying to raise money for a college bound young man.

I knew about the bake sale as late in the afternoon of day before, I happened to be on the ferry  from Marsh Harbor to Man-O-War Cay.  The  half a dozen locals engaged in easy conversation about the "passing" of five locals within the past two weeks, and the upcoming knee re-replacemnt (in Fort Lauderdale, without health insurance since his wife retired,) of a gentleman on board. Everyone agreed that the loss of power each evening was to blame for one death as that person was dependent on oxygen due to emphysema and her oxygen machine "surely burned out due to the frequent power outages." and wasn't it good that none of them was smoking anymore....

Boxes of homemade cakes and goodies were on there way to the bake sale; I got to sample a treat when a gregarious gentleman started rummaging through  the sacred goods and having found the holy grail for doughnut lovers, negotiated with the college bound senior and treated each ferry goer to a donut. Needless to say that 30 minute crossing passed quickly.

I ended up on that ferry as a result of a day trip in the inflatable from Man-O-War Marina to Hope Town on Elbow Cay; home to its famous red and white striped lighthouse.  Leaving no challenged unanswered we climbed to the top of the lighthouse where we were rewarded with panoramic views of the harbor and distant Cays.  Elbow Cay Lighthouse (aka Hope Town Lighthouse) is one of the last three, continuously operated, kerosene-fueled, hand-wound rotation lighthouses in the world.   it's 89' tall (with 101 steps) and sits 120' above sea level, ( another 30 steps to climb,) and  it flashes every 15 seconds.  The lighting source is a 325,000-candlepower vapor burner that runs on kerosene that is pressurized via a hand pump and travels up a tube to a vaporizer where  the vaporizer sprays the fuel on a pre-heated mantle (think giant Coleman lantern mantle)  that is known as the "soul" of the lighthouse.  The Fresnel lenses concentrate the mantle's light into a laser-like beam that can be seen 15 nautical miles away. 

Hope Town is a cruisers dream, a safe harbor ( unfortunately with a shallow entrance, we could only enter at or after mid-tide.)  The town sits upon the circular harbor and the pastel cottages and businesses adorn the three parallel roads that intersect the rise from the harbor to the crest where numerous paths descend down to the endless miles of gorgeous Ocean beaches with seas sporting their brilliant green colors out to the breaking water at the reef where the the deep dark blue beckons the mariner. 

Yesterday strolling down the low road  at Man-O-War brought us past the busy boat building shops where the local Aubury boats are built and to the Aubury canvas shop where local ladies have been sewing canvas bags and hats for decades. The canvas shop is festooned with bags of every conceivable size, color and shape; while there the local school Principal came is complaining that everyone wanted the two local schools closed because of a bug problem, I never did discover which "bug" was the concern but the gentleman was certainly railing on about how good it was that he had given up drinking years ago or this problem would certainly "put him on  a binge."  Interestingly there is a total ban on the sale of alcohol on the Island which supports a very strong spiritual commitment that keeps the little community somewhat apart from the ways of the outside world.

Today brings us to an anchorage in the lee of a small Island on the West side of Great Abaco. A wet dingy  ride ferried us into Little Harbor where we meandered around the iron foundry built by eccentric artist, Randolph Johnson in the 1950's and today is run by Pete, one of his sons.  We met a young man from Boston who is an apprentice at the foundry and he explained that  the bronze foundry uses the lost art of cold wax molds.  Randolf Johnson, his wife and children sailed from Northampton, MA, on their schooner Langosta, "to escape the maddening rush of civilization to live their lives in sight of no man, in pursuit of a free life and  devotion to art."  They arrived in Little harbor and lived in caves until they built thatched huts and a foundry.  The lifelike bronze statues adorn the waterfront and gallery; dolphins frolic in the patina bronze surf, a bald eagle wrestles a prize fish from the sea, turtles gracefully swim amid bronze kelp and a mountain lion leaps to grasp a fish from and eagle. Needless to say the statues are stunning....

Bahamas, January 10, 2012

Bahamas, January 10, 2012

As planned we have journeyed to the Bahamas and are currently on the hook in White Sound in beautiful Green Turtle Cay which is 3 miles long and half a mile wide. The Island quietly languishes in a time warp where the Island's children still attend an "all grades" school, and quaint pastel homes and business establishments line the village streets of New Plymouth.  Green Turtle is on the Atlantic Ocean side of Great Abaco Island, sporting a clear azure blue sea teaming with huge conch, crawfish (spiny lobster; dinner tonight,) sea turtles, dolphin and a plethora of other sea creatures.

Today we rented a golf cart and covered nearly every path navigable by a cart on Green Turtle, passing huge expanses of white beach gently sloping into the sea glistening like a kaleidoscope filled with blue, green and gold beach glass. The distant breakers speak to hidden reefs teaming with sea life; the jagged edges of the coral heads threatening ships and claiming many a sailor's life.

The historic settlement of New Plymouth was fun to explore and a lunch of fried conch at the Wrecking Tree Restaurant was a culinary highlight.  Across from the restaurant was a dock where a local had a full time job of pounding the conch to an almost pulp like consistency that made it  perfect for the fried tidbits we so enjoyed for lunch.  The Wrecking Tree Rest. sported the wrecking tree where locals brought their  bounty from wrecked ships to be bartered and sold.

On Jan 12th a lumpy 56nm Ocean transit from Lake Worth Inlet (West Palm Beach) brought us to West End on Grand Bahama Island.  Two nights there afforded us the opportunity to explore and then it was off to Sale Cay across flat calm Sea of Abaco;  entertained by flying fish leaping, dancing with wild abandon, and dolphins too busy feeding, to be more than mildly curious about another passing boat.

From Sale Cay, that might better have been named Desolate Cay, a glorious day of cruising brought us to Spanish Cay Marina where we were delighted to meet the female sailor, Marilyn aboard her boat the Wimbrel.  We originally meet her in Yorktown and again in Norfolk; it's always great to meet up with fellow travelers.  

In march harbor, Hurricane the pooch who was rescued as a 5 week old puppy during Hurricane Irene via a scoop net from the sea, greeted us warmly as landed at the marina.  While being greeted by a pooch is great,  languishing in a hot tub, located for a perfect view of the Sea of Abaco which was illuminated by the waxing full moon provided a relaxing end to a perfect day.

Cumberland Is., GE

December 4, 2011  Cumberland Island

Three's a charm!  After two passages past Cumberland Island National Seashore we decided to stop and visit; a two night stay in St. Marys, Georgia afforded us the opportunity to take a National Park service Ferry (there is no bridge connecting Cumberland to the mainland) to the Island which is 90% parkland.  Cumberland Island is Georgia's largest (18 miles long and between 1 1/2 to 3 miles wide) and southernmost barrier island,  the largest undeveloped barrier island along the Atlantic coast.  It is rich in history, architecture and natural areas; a nesting place of Loggerhead turtles ( 372 nests in the first 7 months of this year).  Wild turkeys, deer, and armadillo populate the fields, and Maritime forests; horses, called marsh tackies because they roam and graze on acres of salt marsh, roam unfettered by time.  Recent blood typing supports the theory that the diminutive horses we see today are linked to a group of Spanish horses from 400 years ago.

  The Island is a complex ecosystem of independent communities, our favorite being the live oak forest where the sunlight filtered through the tree tops reflecting the undulations of the Spanish moss so gracefully draped across ponderous sweeping tree limbs that are blanketed by resurrection ferns.  In stepping into the primordial forest we were embraced by a quietude and splendor that is rarely seen and felt;  a home of Hobbits and spirits.

The west side of the island supports long needle pine growth, the tall trees (an fledgling trees) gracefully sway in the wind from the near-by sea.

Not without human imprint, for thousands of years people have lived on Cumberland Is. from the Timucuan Indians to the Carnegie's. The island is home to the First African baptist Church established by freemen in 1893 and rebuilt in the 1930's (JFK Jr. and Carolyn Bessette secretly married there) the Plum Orchard, an 1898 Georgian Revival Mansion,  donated to the National Park Foundation by the Carnegie family members in 1971.  We thoroughly enjoyed a tour of Plum Orchard Mansion festooned in it's holiday finery.

This morning's departure  was slightly delayed with some rudder adjustments and much to my delight there were wood storks, great egrets and snowy egrets foraging about on the mud flats right behind the boat.  Never having seem storks feed before I was surprised to see them quickly walk about with an open bill in the water; no stealthy stalking like the egrets, just frenzied stepping with an occasional wing extension and tail fanning for balance.  Very amusing feeding technique!

                                                     
Several days ago when the winds were high a flock of white pelicans, aligned like the Blue Angels,  gracefully glided over the golden marshland and unto the sea without calculating the 28kn wind and 3kt current;  what resulted looked like a snow drift of feathers as they quickly tumbled upon one another like a 10 car pile up on the New Jersey Turnpike in a blizzard.  They quickly recovered and resumed their orderly progression.

                                     

The American White Pelican, at  62" one of the largest birds in North America, it's capable of soaring for long distances and often flies in a line or V formation.  Unlike the brown Pelican that so gracelessly dives for food, the white pelican feeds while swimming, dipping its bill into the water to catch fish in it's orange-yellow throat pouch.  They feed cooperatively so we almost always see them in a group.

A night on the hook provided a private glimpse at the nocturnal world, a waxing moon illuminated as the distant ocean enunciated peacefully.   On a distant shore an owl delighted my senses with the haunting rhythmic hoohoohoo, hoohoo, hoo; so silent in flight but verbose in shrouded repose. Fish jump, a night heron protested an intrusion, real or imagined.  The little dipper hangs over the SE horizon; so much is missed when we are tied to a dock!

Charleston, SC

 Yesterday, Nov. 27 we departed Charleston after Kurt expertly guided the boat through a 180 degree turn in very tight quarters in the marina with 4kn current against the turn:)  Thankfully one of us has great boat maneuvering skills.

Bathed in light winds and warm temps, we glided through endless miles of marshland resplendent with waterfowl.  Loons fished along every mile, pelicans carelessly crashed upon the surface, great white egrets stood stately on the shore,  and a great blue heron that narrowly missed becoming a figurehead on our bow when he/she misjudged his/her trajectory to an unknown destination. I am reminded that on the way to Charleston we had the treat of viewing the majestic and distinctive flight of a pair of Wood Storks (they are on the endangered list) and I am delighted to learn that each year South Carolina is home to between 800-2,060 Wood Stork nests.

Last night at Beaufort, SC, Kurt got to hone his mechanical skills when he changed the impeller on the port engine that began to overheat 1/3 of the way towards our destination. Thanks to twin engines, it was not a problem that needed immediate attention.  

Today were greeted to a brilliant orange resplendent sunrise that foretold the weather are now being escorted by; the southern leading edge of a cold front. As we travel from Beaufort, SC to somewhere in Georgia the sky is monochromatic gray punctuated with patches of blue that are distance and always out of reach; we are gently rocked by 25-30 kn wind and washed by intermittent showers.  The dolphins and loons keep us company as we approach the serpentine shaped ICW in Georgia.

Daufuskie Island awaits at the confluence of the Calibogue Sound and the Cooper River; the name originated from the early settlers identifying their island as "Da Fus Key" (the first key).  In the book "The River is Wide,"(a great read)  author Pat Conroy chronicled his experience as a schoolteacher on the island when there was no bridge linking the island to the mainland;  he taught a small population of direct descendants of slaves brought from Africa who lived an isolated life, having little contact with the outside world. 

Just entering the Elba Cut across the Savanna River after yielding to a behemoth freighter who recommended that we "wait" for him to cross in front of us.....duh.....

We managed to enjoy our 11 day stay in "Charleston: City of Arrivals."  I am reminded that we started our journey near Ellis Island, NY where countless immigrants including my father and his family who arrived from Kavala, Greece,  were welcomed to a new life, now we are in Charleston an earlier port of entry for many.....from the first American Jews arriving from Spain in 1695, to 4 out of 5 of the African slaves brought to toil on American soil.  

In 1669, three ships of colonists sailed from England to the New World; after enduring hurricanes, only the ship the Carolina, crowded with many of the the passengers saved from the two wrecked ships, arrived in Charleston in 1670 and started a new community, Charles Towne (named for Charles II), in the protected harbor.  

Today Charleston welcomes the visitor with historic homes of antebellum architecture, cobblestone streets, a horizon of church spires and in the distance the distinctive profile of the Ravenel bridge;  a carriage tour of the Battery provided us with a glimpse of the unique architecture and gardens that grace the waterfront.  We had the pleasure of sharing the Charleston experience with Karen and Tom who seemed to enjoy the wonders of the city as much as we do.  The whirlwind tour included house tours of the Nathaniel Russel House, c.1808; Calhoun Mansion, c. 1876 @ 24,000 square feet, stuffed to the gills with antiques and collectibles and a visit to the H. L. Hunley the first submarine ever to sink an enemy ship (USS Housatonic), unfortunately for the crew of eight the Hunley sank; it was not located and raised until 1995 and 2000 respectively.  On April 17, 2004, the Hunley crew members were buried with full Confederate Military honors at Magnolia Cemetery following a 4.5 mile, horse-drawn, caisson procession through downtown Charleston; the "last Confederate burial."

We delighted in the tour of Middleton Place, the grand 18th-century rice plantation featuring 65 acres of gardens first designed by Henry Middleton in 1741, and in 1941 the Garden Club of America recognized Middleton Place as  America's oldest landscaped gardens and the "most interesting and important garden in America." 

                                      

                                     

                             Kurt stands camouflaged against the magnificent Middleton Oak, estimated to         

                             be least 900 years old with a height of 67',  girth of 32.8' and spread of 118.'

                                          

                                     

                                          Centuries-old Camellias bloom in winter months

No visit to Charleston would be complete without a harbor cruise to visit Fort Sumter (I always want to put a "p" after the m). On December 20, 1860, South Carolina was the "First to Act"when it  seceded from the Union, yet Union forces still occupied Fort Sumter and refused requests to surrender. Finally on April 12, 1861 South Carolina Confederate troops led by Major Beauregard fired on Sumter from nearby Fort Johnson in a two day bombardment that resulted in the the surrender of the fort by the Union commander, Major Anderson, and the start of the Civil War. The South held Fort Sumter until 1865; during that time the fort experienced one of the longest sieges in modern warfare, when an estimated 46,000 shells, thought to be more than seven million pounds of metal, were fired at the fort.

                                                             

                                                                        Fort Sumter

In-between all the activities we managed to sample some of Charleston's fine "Lowcountry" cuisine at Blosson's,  Magnolias Hyman's, Jestine'sFrogmore stew; Frogmore is a community on St. Helena Is., SC  identified by the post office that has giant metal frog in front:)  The Lowcountry stew is a seafood boil with shrimp, crab, sausage, and corn on the cob and reportedly was "invented" by the owner of Gay seafood in Beaufort when he prepared a cookout for fellow National Guardsmen.

Georgetown, SC

As we departed Georgetown this morning the sun was peeking over the tree tops, a blue heron, brilliantly juxtaposed against the colorful backdrop of autumn leaves, silently stalked a silvery tidbit as an immature Bald Eagle kept a wary watch.  Mist was rising from the glistening surface of the water, an old wooden shrimp boat lumbered past us as the outriggers unfurled.

Pelicans glide over the bow and commence a surface glide, skimming the tops of the sea chop.  We are in an Audubon paradise where vacant osprey nests claim many of the double-sided tops of channel markers rendering the distinctive apex of the red impossible to discern, there-by making navigation more of a challenge.  Marsh hawks with their distinctive flap, flap, glide pattern of flight survey the endless miles of marsh that is uninhabited by man, yet it displays the remnants of the slave-designed and built flood gates that once were integral to the huge wealthy plantations so prolific before the Civil War.  Bald Eagles glide in circles, blue herons sprout at the edge of the marsh as sentries of the shore as nearby oystercatchers probe the mud,  gaggles of Great White Egrets skim the marsh tops, cormorants hang their wings out to dry, and the occasional bottlenose dolphin gracefully swims by tantalized by riding our bow wave.

Yesterday Kurt brought us through the infamous "Rock Pile," a 19 mile long stretch of canal that was cut (blasted) through Cretaceous limestone that is 65-144 million years old, formed at the end of the dinosaur age.  Because the rock was such a challenge, the engineers who built it in the early 1930s, continued to commensurately narrow the channel making it a challenge for boaters to safely navigate.   Last spring, we met a couple on a trawler who had damaged their hull and props, this year we were told about the 40' catamaran that yesterday sank after putting a hole in one hull.  This cruising adventure requires due diligence, I'm grateful that so far as I have spent too long gazing at the flora and fauna that I have not run us aground.

Our last night in North Carolina found us at  Carolina Beach, Joyner Marina and afforded us a long walk on the full-moon-lit ocean shore where intrepid shorebirds (barely visible) fed in the surf line, scurrying about gobbling tiny tidbits.  This area of beach is available to off road vehicles so the beachfront is decorated with the occasional tent, campfire, fisherman; we ambled up to chat with a couple of "locals" sitting around a camp fire only to discover that they were transplants from Long Island:)

Casper Marina in SC provided for cheap diesel fuel (oxymoron) at $3.60 a gal (including tax).  We loaded up with 576 gals that will see us through the Bahamas and FL Keys and back to Casper for a fill-up.  The sun and cloud cover conspired to put on an unparalleled display of fuchsia, crimson, and gold reflected off the clouds and water.

A delicious dinner of shrimp and grits, washed down with a Cosmo at Snooky's rounded out a perfect day.

Dowry Creek, Belhaven NC

111/11/11, Veterans Day, a gigantic thank you to all of our military! Today ushers in  clear, vibrant, blue skies reflecting off the choppy Neuse River as we gyrate through waves whipped by a frosty 15 kn wind that the cold front ushered in.  The last two days have been gloriously warm enough for sunbathing, varnish touch-ups and boat washing; yesterday short sleeves, today two layers and a down vest, jacket and gloves.  Magestic shore birds stand with heads retracted onto shoulders in an attempt to defeat the wind and cold. A flock of Forster's Terns, their black patch from eye to ear looking like mascara gone awry, nosily complains with distinctive "keer and zreep" sounds.

late afternoon finds us  at Dowry Creek marina with new ornamentation;  it's never a proud moment when the gentleman catching your dock lines says,  "I see you've been crabbin', " as he laughs while pointing to the scarred, white, crab pot buoy bobbing listlessly along-side the bow.  The 15 feet of line attached to the buoy was wedged around the stabilizer shaft and no amount of tugging would free it so Captain Kurt went swimming and cut the line short to the shaft; thankfully the stabilizers still work.

 Dowry Creek Marina just on the outskirts of Belhaven did not disappoint; a quaint, quiet, home to a few long-time boat residents who journeyed for years and settled here where they liked the vistas of ever-changing marshland and views of sunrise and sunsets.  Again we were welcomed to the pot luck supper that is provided each evening by some of the "resident" cruisers and the marina owner Mary; her retired Marine husband passed away several years ago and she is carrying on their dream of owning/running the marina. The rotisseried pork rib roast with all the trimmings (including homemade yeast rolls) became a birthday celebration for Mary, this being our second time arriving for that celebration.  The deliciousness of the meal was secondary to the easy conversation with fellow cruisers who share a multitude of experiences with their travels up and down on the ICW,  the Great Loop and Canada.

Dinner was delayed as we waited for the last boat to arrive; a large trawler (60') that was captained by someone who exercised a lapse of judgement, and attempted, in the long narrow Alligator River-Pongo Canal, to pass one of the "American Cruise Line" ships (200,' with a 60' beam).  Needless to say it did not end well for the trawler with the appropriate name of "Full Steam."  Duh!

One of the resident boaters (the woman who made the delicious rolls) talked about the visit from hurricane Irene that brought 100 mph wind and an 8' storm surge;  she and her husband had moved their truck and motor home to "safe" high ground only to have both destroyed when a hurricane-spawned tornado brought a tree down on top of them.  They were grateful that their sailboat anchored up the creek rode out the storm safely.  The boats were not allowed to stay at the marina due to the forecast  storm surge that would likely (and did) cover the dock pilings.  Unfortunately a beautiful sailboat was across the creek, marooned on the marsh at an angle that would have been fine if it was plying the sea, heeled in unison with the wind and waves.  Mother Nature will reign supreme, good and bad; sublimely beautiful, frighteningly destructive.

Manteo, NC, side-trip off the ICW

Detoured from the boat parade on the ICW to visit Manteo (with a silent t and long e and o) on Roanoke Is near the Outer Banks, an idyllic year round community of boats, fishermen and condos with wrap-around views of Roanoke Sound and the barrier beach.

 On August 18, 1587, Virginia Dare,  the first European Christian to be born in American was born on Roanoke Island; no one knows what became of Virginia or the 120 men, women and children from her settlement; all traces of the colony disappeared by 1591; harsh life for early settlers.

This area of the Outer Banks is known as the Graveyard Of the Atlantic and is home to the "lost" local legend  of Richard Etheridge and the Pea Island Lifesavers. In the 1880's the ocean beaches were patrolled 24 hours a day (on foot) by members of the Life-Saving Service  (LSS),  a precursor to the Coast Guard.  Richard Etheridge was born on Roanoke Island as a slave, became a Union Army Veteran in the Civil War and then in 1880, the first African-American to command a Life-Saving station, a position he maintained for 20 years.  Among the many he saved, in 1896 he and his African-American crew are credited with saving the captain and crew, including the captain's wife and 3 year old daughter, of the schooner "E.S. Newman." It was 100 years, and took the effort of a 14 year old girl, a US Congressman and a diligent Coast Guard Officer, before Etheridge and his life saving crew were recognized for their valor and awarded the Gold Lifesaving Medal.  I'm reading and recommend  the book, "Fire On The Beach" is a spellbinding story about Etheridge and Life-Saving Crew at Station 17 on Pea Island.

As the sun sets and the soon-to-be full moon rises, the marshes glisten golden hues and the sky promises shades of lilac and plum,  the stars faintly glimmer in the approaching night.  The wind lightly dances across the surface of the water and it promises to be a sterling night of immense beauty at the shore.

This was a day of exploring the area and attempting to find helmets to be worn when we're on the new little scooter that we bought in Portsmith at a marine store????  Of course he didn't have helmets, just one cute little bright blue scooter that seduced us.  So how do you find a helmet in a seaside vacation area???  You ride on your scooter without a helmet and hope for the best; locals told us that we would have to go to Nags Head on the beach, so over the bridge we did go and down the beach in search of helmets....25km later...after checking out the ocean....we came upon scooter with person on board who inquired, "where are your helmets?"  He was kind enough to lead us back over the bridge back, to Manteo, through town, to a cycle shop. Of course we were stopped by a cop as we were preparing to turn left into the parking lot of the cycle shop.....thanks to our guardian angel Mark, who appeared to know everyone, we didn't get a ticket.  Later that afternoon Mark came to the boat and delivered to us a bounty of fresh sea scallops, oysters, and flounder and would not accept payment for what will be many delicious meals for us; we are blessed to meet so many interesting, kind, wonderful people.

Nags Head Beach

                                                        Scooter being hoisted top-side

As the holidays are approaching, I miss no opportunity to breeze through interesting shops; among them Wanchese Pottery owned by Bonnie and Bob, retired art teacher and school counselor from "upstate" NY.  Their shop is as wonderful as their personalities and it wasn't hard to find a few gems that needed a home....Bonnie has created a line of dinnerware that she calls "Outer Banks," so of course I expected them to have a web site, Bonnie explained that they did have one for a week and they had so many orders that they discontinued the site!  I'm putting the phone number in here so I will know where to find it: 252-305-2099; wanchesepottery@yahoo.com.  Again, acts of kindness, Bob offered to us the use of his truck if we needed to provision or tour the area.  

Then there was the visit from the gentleman who will have to remain nameless because neither of us can remember his name;  while eating dinner at Coinjock Restaurant (home to the 32 oz prime rib ), we chatted with two people at the table next to us, they live in Manteo......the gentleman who is retired from a career in IT, and originally from London where he spends 6 months each year, drove his scooter  (he is a para) down to the boat to visit with us:)  The people that we meet along the way are a treasured part of the journey!