Morning clouds prevented me from seeing that familiar clear red spotlight appear on the horizon and rise out of the ocean, but I could sense that it was there all the same, in refracted light here and there, a game of sunrise mirrors; there was something almost theological in this hidden presence. It finally appearing in gauzy revelation overhead when I started out running toward Fort Macon, the savory scent of bacon and sausage thick in he air; Deb is back from her knee surgery and the Resort Grill is open for business, its bright green "open" flag waving out by the road once again. Of course I went running on my birthday - what better way to celebrate life and health and fitness?
I returned to the place where I run "intervals" at the Picnic Area, from the Yield sign to the Christmas Trees sign (which had been removed, finally, leaving a little square hole in the sand); they went well, with a final 0.55, my fastest since we have been here. I may actually be in good enough shape to run this upcoming half marathon. My last mile was completed on the beach at low tide, back to the condo, the third time this week that I have been able to finish up my run alongside the ocean.
My birthday destination today was Cape Lookout and its famous lighthouse, a 15-minute ferry trip from Harkers Island; we had a picnic lunch there, worried that there might not be any other passengers on the ferry and would thus have to cancel or incur doubled rates; but soon another couple arrived, and then an entire family, nearly 20 passengers in all including a couple with a beautiful, well-behaved, long-haired German Shepherd that made us want to own a dog again.
It is a beautiful lighthouse, and you see it from a long way off as you approach. Cape Lookout and Shackleford Island were once one continuous barrier island, we were told by our ferry captain, but a hurricane decades ago opened up Barden Inlet between them and now they are separated by a gulf of open water.
Almost immediately when we disembarked, Martha spotted what looked like an Atlantic Moon Snail, but when she went to pick it up, we found it was already occupied, by this little hermit crab. It pulled its legs tighter inside and waited for us to go away.
It was a calm day - the sound was as still as a pond, gently lapping up onto the sand where we found our little crab. "Take a look at this!" I told some young children who had some over on the ferry with us. "Oh, they're everywhere," their Mom said dismissively, but this was the first one we had found like this in a shell.
The lighthouse is spectacular but unfortunately was closed to climbing this time of year. I think I would have passed the height requirement depicted by this cartoon lighthouse at the visitor center, closed this time of year.
Workmen were climbing on scaffolding, restoring the adjoining Keepers House. "My boss said I would get a raise," laughed one of them from the very top. The current lighthouse was constructed in 1859, replacing an earlier 1812 lighthouse constructed of brick with (strangely) wooden boards on the outside. This older structure, in one of the most colossal feats of engineering ineptitude I have heard of, was found to be too short to be seen from sea; you can still see the remains of the old foundation.
It is a beautiful site, and the lighthouse is certainly photogenic. The light rotated every 15 minutes, and I had tried without success to take a photo of its bright signal as we approached on the ferry.
Paths and walkways extend across the island to the open ocean through these tall long-leaf pines, which were planted deliberately to stabilize the dunes; normally barrier islands would contain only live oak trees.
On the other shore we wandered in bright sunlight, but we could see storms approaching on the horizon. I wrote this in the sand with a scallop shell, at low tide, and I am sure it is gone by the time I am writing this (I thought somewhat melancholically), eroded by time and tide.
A little Tennyson came to mind.
Tho' much is taken, much abides; and tho'
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
It was a memorable birthday, and we stopped at the same place we discovered two weeks ago in Beaufort on Taylor Creek - Front Street Grill - for an afternoon break.
After we returned, I wrote a little in this blog, and then we went out to celebrate at a restaurant in Morehead City that we had not tried yet, a tapas place called Circa 81 and very good - delicious green-tail shrimp stuffed with crab, poached scallops, seared yellow fin, she-crab soup - all artistically presented. On the table when we returned were birthday cards, and presents that Martha had given me earlier, including the fifth Tana French book she surprised me with yesterday. My inbox when I checked it was filled with so many Happy Birthday well-wishes (with one notable exception) that I was overwhelmed. Even more than the "life and health and fitness" that I began this day celebrating, I am so extraordinarily thankful for the friendship and love all around me, because what is life and health and fitness without that love? - especially the love of a beautiful wife, friends and neighbors, sailors who are going the journey with us.
So I end this day thinking about the shifting sands of these Outer Banks, always changing and moving, islands being created and destroyed and re-created. And this tall navigational beacon that guides us all, that warns incoming ships of danger and at the same time indicates that there is safe harbor in the sound away from the wild ocean.
So I end this day thinking about the shifting sands of these Outer Banks, always changing and moving, islands being created and destroyed and re-created. And this tall navigational beacon that guides us all, that warns incoming ships of danger and at the same time indicates that there is safe harbor in the sound away from the wild ocean.
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