January 9, 2008

Today's miles: 6.5

Yesterday I took the Greyhound halfway across the state and arrived in Elizabeth City at the Greyhound station, that had moved about 5 miles outside of town. I had to take a taxi, which I shared with a young woman with a small baby and ketchup red hair to the Days Inn. I stayed up last night watching the results roll in from the New Hampshire primary. Now today I’m going to bring on the risk, by hitchhiking across the bridge and down US-158 towards Kitty Hawk.

What am I, as a young woman, supposed to do after the Blood Mtn incident? Back down, cancel my trip?

Today two good people (Phil and Macon) gave me a tag-team hitch from Elizabeth City to Kitty Hawk. I started out from the Elizabeth City hotel full of apprehension about hitchhiking but ready to give it a whirl. It was either hitch once or spend a couple days walking and camping on a busy road – which is safer when those are your options, eh?

I was out by the Elizabeth City bridge, awkwardly wriggling my thumb at passing vehicles, trying to look as reputable as possible, when a white SUV pulled up and an older gentleman motioned for me to jump inside. We talked a lot on the ride, passing through swampy areas, narrow inlets, towards the town of Grandy, where he was meeting his mother for breakfast. Phil bought me an Outer Banks map. He then bought me coffee, and when his mother arrived (an 84 year old spunky woman), breakfast. Sweet potato biscuit and eggs and country ham. They taught me some basic southern accent techniques, told me most of the history of their family. Phil, upon learning that I was an amateur birder, rushed back to get a spare ½ binocular from his truck. So begins my trip as usual: unsolicited gifts from caring strangers.

At the end of breakfast, Macon said, “You need to be a little nutty to enjoy life.” And I could not agree more. I drove east with Macon to the mechanic, then her house in Southern Shores, then to the bank (and just when I thought I had been taken hostage by the sweetest little old lady) to the beach in Kitty Hawk where I was set free with a half pack of gum and her address.

From Kitty Hawk, I walked down the beach to my current campsite on the dunes. "Yip! Ee-yo yippee yay" I sang in a sing-songy delighted way, happy to be out in the cool sun, walking on the beach alone. I detoured to the Wright Brothers memorial site, commemorating their first flight. Back on the beach, I passed commercial fishermen pulling in nets full of spiny dogfish (bycatch) and only one striper (~30 lbs of fish). Passed by a girl about my age and a portly fellow in a bucket hat, fishing with a pole from his lawn chair. “Catch anything?” I asked “Never do,” he answered with glee. I camped in the sandy backyard of an absentee house-owner, falling asleep early to the wiling sound of the ocean pushing and pulling sand, deep tissue massaging the beach. Woke up at 2:30 am thinking it was dawn, started to pack up before realizing my folly. Strange dreams.