Elliott Coues Nature Trail

We become more regular church-goers here than we do in Highlands, and once again we found ourselves sitting in a pew at the Methodist Church, faces now becoming more and more familiar.  Powell was taking a break because this was Youth Sunday, and we enjoyed a service entirely carried out by the many talented young people that this church nurtures.  I think I heard the prettiest version of "Down to the River to Pray," sung by a choir of 15 or 20 young girls, that I have ever heard.

As I went down in the river to pray
Studying about that good old way
And who shall wear the starry crown
Good Lord, show me the way!

O sisters, let's go down,
Let's go down, come on down
O sisters, let's go down
Down in the river to pray.

After lunch, we decided it would be a good time to walk on the beach; low tide had been reached at 11:30 a.m. and the wind was "light and variable" again.  I drank some tea and did some work on the computer, then told Martha, "I think I'll go out and test conditions."  She laughed.  "You do that!  It's pouring rain!"  And it was indeed, one of those sudden storms that spring up suddenly our here, and then ten minutes later the sun was shining.  So we decided that if another shower came, it could not be any more inconvenient than during yesterday's run, so we headed east along the beach to the picnic area, about one mile away, where you can pick up the Elliott Coues Nature Trail, a 3.3-mile loop that begins and ends at Fort Macon.  

The surf was calm, and strands of sea foam seemed to spell out words in the sand if a person is in a fanciful frame of mind.

As we approached the picnic area, there was a massive flock of sea gulls, standing at attention and facing the ocean, ready for action.  We hoped the many cars parked in the parking lot were prepared for the air attack.

Casting a wary eye upward, we crossed the parking lot and started toward the Fort on the ocean side, a beautiful open trail that winds around and around, up and down, its edges kept in place from the drifting sand by these re-purposed Christmas trees.

Finally the trail comes out on the top of the dunes, and you can see the ocean stretching out below, the Fort and Coast Guard Station behind.  

After a brief stop at the Fort, we returned to the picnic area by continuing on the Salt Marsh portion of the trail to the north.  In the distance some of the buildings in Morehead City and Beaufort can be  singled out, including the tall Bask Hotel where the half marathon starts and ends.  It seems a long way off!

Fantastic live oak trees hang overhead, and I thought that in dim light, on a foggy afternoon, this might be a spooky place to walk alone.

Off in the marshes, I spotted a small group of what looked like egrets.  There are bald eagles and ospreys in this marsh, too, but we saw none today.

We returned from the picnic area on the road that had become familiar to us from out near-daily runs, and I pointed out the number "8" painted on the pavement opposite the "Place by the Sea" condos, the eight mile split in the half-marathon course before it turns and crosses back to Morehead City.  

This was a good way to spend a Sunday afternoon, walking five miles on the beach and in the woods, holding hands and chatting about this and that.  Because exactly 40 years ago today was the day when Martha and I first went out on a date - February 11, 1978.  So for many years she has enjoyed roses delivered to her three days before Valentine's Day from a husband who has presumably gotten the date wrong.

But I didn't get it wrong at all!