04/07/2022
Okracoke Island has an intriguing nature; the word unique springs to mind— meaning alone in the universe.
If you drive from north to south along the Hatteras National Seashore it’s your last stop, the last major island in the chain. And it takes some doing to get there. By that I mean you have to take a ferry. That doesn’t sound like much, but I turned up one
afternoon expecting to drive right on— and was told I was out of luck; the only remaining sailing for that day was “full.” Oddly enough, they don’t do reservations — so it’s first-come-first-served,
which creates a perpetual pandemonium, everyone competing for a spot on the tiny vessel. Indeed, when I arrived there was a big jumble of cars, trucks, motorcycles, bicycles, foot-passengers and likely a dog-cart or two. I soon learned that the ferry only holds thirty or so vehicles. The security man advised that I had better arrive by 5 AM the next day to be sure to get aboard. What?
So I had to head back to the Sea Foam (65 miles), and angle for another night’s accommodation. I set my alarm for 3AM, and grabbed 4 hours of sleep. It’s actually quite fun awakening at three in the morning and not knowing where on earth you will be spending the next night. This is my idea of a good time.
In twenty minutes I had said goodbye to the dear old Sea Foam and set out; my little Corolla purred along eagerly. At that hour many deer were out and about– scattered willy-nilly along
NC12. I picked my way carefully to the ferry dock at the south end of Hatteras Island. At 5:30 I rolled onto the tiny ferry with the big name: Chicamacomico. Dawn was breaking. It was terrific
to be there, launching into the unknown.
