The Gentle Surfcrash

I have to confess that I was feeling a little smug when I awoke a little after 7:00 a.m. on this first day of the new year, went down to the lobby, and asked if anyone else was up yet.  Only one other couple, I was told, who had a long drive ahead of them, had beat me to the starting line.  I ran a lap around the parking lot after my Tai Chi – no matter how short the distance, I like to start a new year with a run. 

The Hampton Inn was undergoing renovations, and “breakfast” was handed to me in two little brown bags, which I returned to our room to open.  Each bag contained a packaged muffin, a banana, an inexpensive energy bar, and a cannister of Fruit Loops.  I returned to the lobby bearing said Fruit Loops and asked if there were any adult cereals to be had, like Raisin Bran or Corn Flakes or Cheerios.  But, alas, that was the only cereal available for the entire hotel, probably the least appetizing breakfast cereal for the many visitors nursing hangovers.  Fortunately, Martha had packed home-made granola bars, a good way to start any new year.

Today was the longest drive of the journey, 357 miles (five hours and 40 minutes) on roads that became surprisingly busy, especially around Raleigh.  But we arrived safely in Kitty Hawk at the Hilton Garden Inn and glimpsed our first view of the ocean in ten months.  It was a cold, gray day, though, and there was a stiff breeze, and we did not venture onto the beach.

Instead, we drove north on Highway 12 to Duck, looking for a place to eat dinner, and were fortunate enough to grab what may have been the last table in the crowded restaurant NC Coast, where we ate dinner on my birthday two years ago.  It was very good! – She Crab Soup and seared sashimi tuna.  And it was nice to visit the familiar sights of a place where we stayed for 20 years for an annual vacation - Tommy's Market, Scarborough Faire, the Waterfront Shops - although everything was closed for the season except this lone restaurant.  There was a gorgeous sunset over the sound, as there frequently is in this part of the Outer Banks, and everyone was going outside to take photos of the ordinary miracle of the sun setting over open water.

The Hilton Garden Inn was also undergoing renovations, but unlike the Hampton Inn, guests could go downstairs and order, not Fruit Loops, but an adult breakfast from The Aviator Bar and Bistro (in honor of Wilbur and Orville Wright).  Martha ordered a bagel with cream cheese called The Katharine (named after Wilbur and Orville’s sister), and I ordered The Benedict (named, not after another Wright, but a New York City stockbroker named Lemuel Benedict, who in 1894 ordered the first Eggs Benedict at the Waldorf Hotel).  Isn’t Wikipedia a marvel?

Just off the breakfast area was a large, nearly vacant room, undergoing renovations.  I peered in and, much to my surprise, saw a grand piano sitting silently off to one side.  I went in to investigate and saw that it had been covered (desecrated) with graffiti from what appeared to be a wild New Year's Eve party.  There were sparkling pieces of glitter here and there, and when I opened the keyboard a tiara tumbled out.  But it was in perfect tune, and I dragged a chair in from the dining area, sat down, and ignoring the country music playing in the background, played through half-a-dozen Bach pieces.  Although I have a keyboard on which to practice until we return, I will play pianos whenever they serendipitously appear.  I have come upon wonderful pianos out here, once in a thrift store on Arendell Avenue (a fine Baldwin upright), and once at the Core Sound Waterfowl Museum on Harker's Island (an elegant old grand piano).  Pianos find me.

Our drive was a shorter one today, north through Jarvisburg, Elizabeth City, and Edenton, where we had lunch at 309 Bistro on Main Street, which was also a place we have enjoyed in the past.  Edenton is a pretty little town with a lot of history, and in the past we have enjoyed tours of gardens and historical houses.  The Cupola House is a favorite of ours, and the front garden today was filled with Christmas trees decorated by local civic organizations.  The house was built in 1756–1758 and is the second oldest building in Edenton.

We drove westward and southward through Williamston, Washington, and finally New Bern and Morehead City, areas we knew intimately from our past nine years visiting this part of North Carolina, finally arriving in Atlantic Beach just before sunset.  We were surprised that the sun was setting so early, but 500 miles to the east sunrises and sunsets are noticeably earlier than in Highlands.  I walked out onto the familiar walkway to the Dune Top Deck and beheld once again the wide ocean and a rosy golden band of light stretched out on the horizon.  Home, for the winter.

This morning, I awoke in time for sunrise, and it was right on schedule, a single brilliant red beacon suddenly appearing on the horizon and rising into a goldern sky.  And then I stood and listened.  The gentle surfcrash, the end of all seeking.