We began the day by running three miles. When I put on my trusty Garmin watch, however, it was absolutely blank (thankfully, I was able to do a "factory reset" when I returned and it is working well now). And since I have not been wearing my knee brace, I thought to myself that I was running unbraced, unfettered, and untimed - a good way to start off any day! Martha decided to do the same thing she did last year; she parked at the First Citizens Bank on the corner of Fort Macon Road and ran across the Atlantic Beach Causeway Bridge and back. Very extensive repairs have been underway on this bridge since we arrived and she had to dodge a few construction vehicles, but her run went well. We will both cross this bridge, whether I run the 10-K or the half marathon, where last year we were buffeted with 40-mile-an-hour winds.
Next on the schedule for this busy day was a Brown Bag Gam at the Maritime Center in Beaufort. The Museum has been using this term to describe the informal lunch programs they hold from time to time; Webster says that a "gam" is "a visit or friendly conversation at sea or ashore especially between whalers." Readers of this blog will remember that we attended one of these on January 30; the subject was "The Vanishing Crew of the Carroll A. Deering." Today's gam, "Love at Sea," was presented by Christine Brin and consisted of a dozen or so maritime love stories, most of which ended tragically, sad to say.
Christine told us about the many Widow's Walks on old houses along the waterfront in Beaufort, where the wives of sailors would watch for their return, and then offered to take us up to the one on the roof of the museum, which we have always wanted to see.
Up a narrow spiral stairway we walked, finally emerging on the Walk high above Beaufort on this brilliant day. We recognized a man who had been on the bird walk with us on Monday and he took our picture.
We spent some time talking to Christine and another history expert, who pointed out various points of interest, including the Cape Lookout Lighthouse visible on this clear day. Directly behind us in this picture is the flag of Fort Macon, and one mile beyond that, in a straight line, is the wreckage of Blackbeard's famous pirate ship The Queen Anne's Revenge, which is being slowly explored and preserved. Christine said that although it is only in 24 feet of water, it is so murky that they call it Exploration by Braille.
After descending to the museum floor again, and passing several exhibits, including a startling eight-foot-long preserved timber rattlesnake killed not far from Beaufort, we crossed the street to relax a little on another roof-top, but this one not as tragic as a Widow's Walk; it was the rooftop deck of Moonrakers, a new restaurant in Beaufort featuring wonderful views of the harbor and Taylor's Creek.
We watched small craft traffic on the water for an hour or so, including the Island Ferry and several pleasure boats enjoying this sunny day, perhaps on their way out to fish.
Our next stop was an interesting one - a tour of a Caviar Farm in Smyrna, not far from Harker's Island. We turned down a narrow road, and then an even narrower one, far out in that flat dusty country so common in this part of the world, finally turning in a driveway at the gate of a sprawling complex of steel buildings, the Marshallberg Farm - largest producer of Russian sturgeon and producers of true Osetra caviar.
Tall young Brian Reburn took about 20 of us on a tour of the Farm, his three-year-old son clinging to him the whole time, which was endearingly informal. Brian was smart and knowledgeable, and told us more than I ever knew about sturgeon.
These huge sturgeon, fished to near-extincion in their native Caspian sea, can live to be 100 years old and grow to a length of 40 feet, although the upper limit of both age and size are a bit of a mystery. Brian's father-in-law, a delightfully funny Japanese man, co-owns the place with another man, and Brian's Japanese-looking wife and mother-in-law also help; LeeAnn, the wife, harvests the eggs from these fish once they are five years old or so.
The sex of the fish is unknown until they are removed from the tank and tested with ultrasound equipment; the caviar is harvested from the females, of course, in a painstaking process. "There's a male in one of those tanks who's about as big as I am, and we'll never be able to catch him!" Brian's background was in water plant operation, and the facility was designed in cooperation with N. C. State. It is a sustainable operation and the expensive caviar is sought-after. We peppered him with questions. "Where does the water come from?" It is well water from wells 400 feet deep; sturgeon come down rivers to salt water and then go upstream (originally, from the Caspian Sea to the Volga) to spawn. "What about the hurricane; did you lose power?" They ran their generators for 10 days, he said. Several of us were splashed by the circulating sturgeon; they seemed to do it deliberately. "Yes, Brian said, "They especially seem to dislike red clothing."
We returned to the room where we had begun, where plates of caviar-laden appetizers were arranged on long tables. Some of them (lower right) also contained smoked sturgeon.
The prices of the canned caviar is high enough that the business, despite its size and complexity, seems profitable, despite the father-in-law joking, "We know it is succeeding if we don't make money." (He also made fun of a business card handed to him by a member of the tour group: "Digital marketing? What is that? You sell fingers?"
That's the $750 stuff, top left, in a can about four inches in diameter. I almost let a few of the tiny black caviar-eggs spill off one of my appetizers and realized I would have dropped about five or ten dollars on the carpet.
After this interesting part of the day, we returned to the condo and relaxed. Roses and necklace and earrings (a gift for Martha) and Valentine's Cards were lovingly displayed on the table.
When it was time for our reservation at Amos Mosquito, we drove the two minutes down Fort Macon Road and enjoyed a delicious dinner - Thai basil-encrusted grouper for me; surf and turf for Martha.
I think tomorrow we will eat a little less! But what is life all about if not for savoring, enjoying, and occasionally splurging?
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