Highlands, Rocky Mount, Edenton, Duck

The distance from Clear Creek to our rental house in Duck is about 550 miles, a nine-hour drive that we have learned to break up by staying one night somewhere along the way.  I took this photo when we left so that when we return in three weeks we can see how much the yard has changed; already it is starting to green up, the hostas have pushed themselves up from the rain-softened ground through the pine straw and begun to spread their leaves.

We had hoped to stay at Big Mill Bed & Breakfast in Williamston again, but Chloe's little place only has five guest rooms and they were all booked.  So we made it as far as Rocky Mount, where we knew there was a good restaurant (Lou Reda's), conveniently nearby hotels, and only three hours more to drive the next morning.  But the last part of the drive was a difficult one, especially on I-40 through Winston Salem and around Raleigh in rain that increased in strength as we drove east.  Why do some cars refuse to burn their headlights in rain like this?  And they always seem to be gray or black cars that are suddenly noticed, stealthily approaching in the rear-view mirror.  I suppose they must think that the purpose of headlights is to see rather than to be seen.

The next morning dawned cold and clear, good driving conditions; it always seems to be a downhill journey on less-trafficked roads east of Rocky Mount and Williamston, and then on two-lane roads on the other side of Elizabeth City and Edenton, as if we have crossed a vast ocean and are entering quiet harbors.  We stopped at the Welcome Center in Edenton, which is located in the historic Barker House.

Edenton is a gracious little city, filled with history, and the Barker House seems to have stepped directly from the pages of the past.  Among the books on display in the roomy sitting room (grand piano in the corner) was a walking tour prepared by the local Women's Club, featuring 75 homes, with detailed descriptions and photographs.  These women love their history, their gardens, and their art.  We were fortunate enough to visit several years ago during their annual Pilgrimage of Homes, and this year we are planning to visit during the Easels in the Gardens, which features local artists and the many private gardens secluded behind these grand homes.

The 1886 Roanoke Island Light is nearby, too, purchased and moved to its present sight by the Edenton Historical Commission.

We could have stayed all day exploring these gorgeous homes, azaleas blooming in yards everywhere, grass turning bright green, wisteria hanging in the trees.  It's a place that brings to mind mimosas in rocking chairs on wide porches.

We continued on our journey, turning south along the western edge of Currituck Sound,  through all those little Towns with the odd names:  Barco, Coinjock, Grandy, Jarvisburg.  In Grandy (thanks to excellent planning) we arrived at the Weeping Radish Farm Brewery in time for lunch; this is North Carolina's oldest micro brewery, and the one that started the local beer industry in North Carolina.  There I had a lunch that is something of a tradition, and which I have enjoyed both here and in their original location in Manteo:  a classic Reuben sandwich, once featured on Guy Fieri's cooking show.

The next traditional stop along highway 158 is the Cotton Gin, a big, rambling place, next to Sanctuary Vineyards.  I think we spent an hour or two wandering through its many rooms, up and down ramps and stairs, an endless delight. 

And then finally we arrived at Twiddy's office in Duck - such friendly, personable folks on the desk every year we visit! - and they remembered us well from previous years.  At last, key and welcome packet in hand, our little house appeared at the end of the long journey, Ocean Watch, nestled in the dunes, the booming ocean so close outside.

After unpacking, we bowed once more to tradition and drove back to Duck to a place we have also enjoyed for a long time, Fishbone's, home of the "award-winning" conch chowder, although this description has been dropped from the menu because, as I remember it, the distinction was awarded about 20 years ago (although the recipe remains the same).

Our waitress was a young women, and she seemed a little stunned when I told her that we have been enjoying their conch chowder since 2001, a tradition the first night we arrive in Duck.  "How old were you in 2001?" I asked.  She did a little calculating and said, "I was born in 1998, so I guess I was three years old!"  That was a long time ago. . .