My love, Troy, told me he wants to take me to the Outer Banks for
our two year anniversary. I was ecstatic; it’s on my bucket list and everything
wild and remote about it intrigues me. We planned to go in October, the start
of offseason, to avoid the crowds. The next day he curiously asked me if it’s
ok if he takes three hours of kite surfing lessons every day on our
“anniversary” trip. My initial reaction was not pleasant, I wanted undivided
anniversary attention. Then I paused for a moment. Three hours a day... Naps,
reading, meditation, beach walks, yoga galore! Game on. I replied, “Sure babe!
Please do, I know how much you’ve been wanting to do those.” Cough.
We had a 1:00 pm target departure time on a Thursday. Actual
departure: 2:30 pm. Someone (cough Troy cough) needed to squeeze in four
errands. I meditated patiently in our chair hammock with visions of the beach
until Troy was ready to pack up the car. I made my way to the garage and
suspiciously peered in the car. I asked, “Babe, why did you pack fishing rods,
a cast net, a fish net, and a tackle box for our, “anniversary” trip?” Troy logically responds, “In case there is no
wind when I’m supposed to go kite surfing.” Sigh.
We hit the road, alternating who napped. I proclaimed that this is
our first vacation together just the two of us. We started our phone detox,
turning off our ringers. I began asking Troy all the questions from the Ungame,
a learning/communication game of
conversation that claims to foster listening skills as well as self-expression.
I randomly received this game alongside an essential oil diffuser in the mail,
addressed to me, three years ago. The sender remains unknown. I’m not sure who
could possibly think I need to listen or express myself better… as Troy turned
to me and exclaimed, “You aren’t answering any of the questions, and I’m answering
all of them.” We agree to go away together just the two of us once a quarter
for quality one on one time, perhaps without the Ungame.
The food options leading up to the
outer banks are not plentiful. Word of advice; eat before you get to the two
hours remaining countdown. We settled for shrimp pineapple fajitas and
guacamole from a Mexican restaurant.
After seven hours of joyful
self-expression and pineapple delight, we arrived at our treehouse room in Buxton, NC.
It was charming with light catchers in the windows, eclectic artwork, and
trinkets like sea glass in every nook. On the second floor alongside the trees,
you could hear birds chirping and the breeze enveloped the room. Fifteen feet
away from the treehouse was the boat of Ty Luckett, owner of Kitehatteras.net. Troy was originally going to take
lessons from Ty, but unfortunately his mother passed.
Day one of the Outer Banks, I dropped
Troy off for kite surfing camp with the gentlemen from Outer Banks Kiting. Troy was so excited
and cute, wrapped up in his wet suit.
Phone detox day two. I found myself
opening my phone and catching myself about to scan emails or Facebook, a
mindless habit. I forced myself to put the phone down.
I made my way to the back porch of
the treehouse, wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, no responsibilities, with all the time
in the world (three hours to be exact) to just be. It was drizzling, but not
enough to leave my peaceful back porch oasis. Just being and not doing is hard. I had to release all the guilt
that came up from not being productive. I mused that all the drama that seemed
so monumental back home and at work really didn’t matter at all as I was tucked
away in the sound in another part of the world.
I started yoga on the back porch, letting
my body flow into whatever asanas (poses) called to me. Afterwards I jotted down a new
class sequence to teach when I got back home. I journaled. I wrote. The three
hours passed quickly and it was time to pick up my big kid.
Troy was ecstatic about his day,
bouncing around excitedly. He drove his SUV onto the beach and we stopped to leisurely
walk along, picking up sea shells.
To think these all these shells grew from a tiny
particle. I started to toss the broken shells back and paused. I looked hard at
those pieces, really looked, and saw something different. I developed a
protective fury for the seashell population. Everyone throws back the shells
that are chipped and cracked, the broken pieces, only keeping and cherishing
the seemingly perfect crustaceans. Just because you aren’t the same as you
started, doesn’t mean you aren’t beautiful. How do you define whole anyways? Who
wants perfect ridges like manicured lawns or vacuum strokes on a carpet? I
developed a fondness for the wild and irregular shell pieces. There were 50
broken shells to one whole everywhere I looked. Rounded edges smooth from the sea
water battering---holding strong despite the continuous beatings. Sharp edges
still fresh from a break that will smooth over many years. Beautiful colors,
the purple called to me. Troy just looked at me with a bemused expression and
held his hands out to hold pieces for me as I raged on about the shell
injustice.
When we went to leave the beach,
Troy had to dig sand out from behind the tires. Letting air out of the tires to
ride on the beach is legit.
We stopped at a muffin joint and
picked up fresh baked pecan butterscotch scones and fresh squeezed orange
juice. Ahh vacation. We proceeded back to the treehouse and gave each other deep
tissue massages (well, mine was really more Swedish, let’s be real) and fell
into the most wonderful nap. That night we went to the Watermen’s Bar &
Grill at REAL Watersports for grub, live music, and views of kite surfers. We
had the guactail filled with crab meat, shrimp, and guac. It was humongous.
Topped off with a seafood plater of Mahi, crab cake, shrimp, black beans, and
cole slaw I grew sleepy.
Outer banks day two. I woke up and
went to write about my dream in my dream journal. I turned to a new page and
found a note from my love saying I am his dream come true. This guy, swoon. He
said he wrote it months ago for me to find. I guess I need to dream more.
After picking up our scones and
fresh OJ, I dropped off Troy at his adult camp and went to a local yoga class. I
loved how we didn’t always flow, we would turn our feet to the back of the mat
and do the sequence on the other side. I went to the back porch and wrote
another yoga class sequence for when I returned home. I picked up Troy and we
grabbed a quinoa burger and ahi tuna from Bro’s.
We stopped to see the famous
lighthouse and pick up our beach driving permit before proceeding onward to the
Ocracoke island ferry.
After the ferry ride, we ventured to the Hammock Hills Nature Trail in the Maritime
forest. The mosquitoes were no joke, they went through my yoga pants with a bug
spray cover. Troy attacked me with the DEET mosquito repellent, not satisfied
with my all natural essential oil spray. We saw the coolest tree roots
intertwined. I have a tree root fetish, I am fascinated in how the trees communicate and help each other out underground.
Troy then took me to see the wild ponies, but they had 800 layers
of fence in between me and the horses so I couldn’t love on them. Is a horse
nuzzle too much to ask for around these parts?
I went on to read in my OBX
guide that every time a human approaches, feeds, or touches a wild horse, they
have to take the horse out of the wild for the protection of the horse and
others. They are actually quite dangerous as they aren’t tame or trained and
can bite and kick and they can become deathly ill if they eat anything off
their mild and native diet of sea grass and oats, acorns, and persimmons. A
horse recently died from eating watermelon rind a vacationer fed it!
We at dinner at Dajio and it was so bloody good. They
use local ingredients from scratch and had a straw-less summer poster up. We
feasted on oysters and spotted sea trout, root vegetable medley, succotash,
clam chowder with mushrooms, and jalapeno corn bread. Days like that are why I
call myself a semi-vegan/pescatarian.
We stopped at 1718, Ocracoke Island’s first brewery. They had only been open
for six days.
Bellies full, we made our way back to the ferry and fell into a
deep slumber.
Outer Banks day three we slept in
and awoke to a beautiful day. The sun was out! The sun was out! We picked up
our scones and mango smoothies and headed to Ace Hardware to buy a tire
pressure gauge capable of reading below 20 pounds, a tow strap, and a shovel.
The cashier asked us if we had a board. We looked at him questioningly. He
replied, “Sir, did you even read your permit?” We bought a board.
We met the
coolest guy at Ace Hardware. He was shouting from the rooftops about celebrating
the 62nd anniversary of escaping the Vietnam War prison he was held captive
in for a year! a wave of gratitude flowed over me. I wanted to envelope him in a hug.
We ventured to Shelly “island”. It’s,
well, shelly. There were so many
seashells. It was astounding.
I had to force myself to stop picking up
seashells because every footstep I found so many beautiful ones. We pumped up
our paddleboards and ventured into the ocean.
It was such a blast having waves
come unexpectedly from behind and surfing. After paddling and surfing the
gentle waves for a while, I had a migraine aura visitor and laid down on my board.
I sleepily lifted my head to ask Troy what he was doing. His eyes frantically
darted from side to side and he replied, “Have you ever heard of the term, “Apex
Predator?” This area is known to be the most shark infested area of the Outer
Banks. Remember the guy that didn’t want to come paddle-boarding with us here
because he said he didn’t want to be part of the big fish eats the little fish
game?” I chuckled and laid my head back down on the board. We eventually made
our way back to the beach and headed out.
We had fresh caught red drum for
lunch and it was decadent. I was a little disappointed that all of the
restaurants at the Outer Banks had so many disposables; plates, cups, ughhhh.
Even when dining in, we’d get our scone on a disposable plastic plate. I
expected them to be more eco and earth conscious being remote. Eating
semi-vegan/pescatarian was a little challenging. Cheese wasn’t always listed,
but it came on everything. But most places had salads, vegetables, and fruits
so I was golden.
I went with Troy to the last day of
his adult camp to watch him kite surf into the sunset and take pics. It was
impressive to say the least, so many variables. He got some really long runs ins, at one time
almost disappearing into the horizon. He was a shredding handsome fool (Troy
made me type that).
On recommendation from multiple
locals, we went to Ketch 55 for our
anniversary dinner. I talked about all the sea shells we found excitedly to the
folks at the bar. James, one of the kite surfing trainers, said he never took
seashells because a local in Hawaii told him it was bad luck not to leave
things as you found them. Well drat. I thought regrettably back to the huge
bucket of shells in our car and sighed.
A local at the bar exclaimed, “You
will never have another second anniversary” and his comment really stuck with
me. We had the most decadent pesto-crusted grouper and sweet pea cous cous.
Best food we had on the entire trip. The kite surfing trainers from Outer Banks
Kiting and locals at the bar had an apple pie turnover sent to our table and
the entire restaurant sang us happy anniversary. It was so warm, unexpected,
and memorable. Those are the kind of memories I want to create for others. We
joined Jay (the owner of Outer Banks Kiting), Larry (local fisherman), Danny
(owner of Dizzy’s ice cream trucks), and the bartender Joni to one up each
other with tall tales (mine clearly the tallest).
The next morning we packed up the
car, walked the Avon Pier, and then took one last beach stroll. I left most of the shells there. We (ok I) skipped and danced in the wild
winds on the beach, twirling around exuberantly, all 6’3’’ of me.
Until next time OBX, until next
time.
