My Birthday

I awoke early this morning, and one of the first things I did was explore the contents of the intriguing tissue-paper-stuffed paper bag which had appeared a couple of days ago on the table, from the top of which protruded a Mylar balloon reading Happy Birthday.  Yes, I am 71 years old today.  "Happy Birthday," Martha told me.  The bag contained three books which I am looking forward to reading (my wife knows how to select birthday gifts).  And I was looking forward to the rest of the day and the special trip that I had already learned Martha had organized for us, an overnight stay in Kitty Hawk to visit that part of the Outer Banks that we have visited every year since 2001.

 Kitty Hawk is really not that far from Atlantic Beach - less than 200 miles, and about three-and-a-half hours of driving on quiet roads.  We left early under a bright blue, cloudless sky.  I do not enjoy much of that depressing part of Highway 70 between Morehead City and New Bern - tattoo parlors, vape shops, bail bonds, pawn shops - but then the scenery improves, winding through flat farming country.  Cover crops were a brilliant green in some of the fields, and we saw some snow, too, in shady places - the snow we had been expecting a few days ago that never materialized in our part of the coast.  Martha spotted this little church, abandoned long ago, just south of Washington.

After the pleasant Sunday morning drive, we arrived in Manteo, where we stopped for lunch at the Blue Water Grill and Raw Bar, which is located in Pirate's Cove Marina on Highway 64, just this side of the Washington-Baum Bridge soaring over Roanoke Sound.

We have a history with that bridge, which we could see from our window.  I have crossed it three times completing the OBX Marathon, and Martha crossed it twice, once in the marathon and once in a half marathon.  It stands at the 22-mile mark of the OBX Marathon, and that is a daunting point in a marathon to climb any kind of hill at all.  I remember that I had psyched myself up for that bridge for a long time, only to realize after triumphantly reaching its summit that four miles remained until reaching the finish line in downtown Manteo, four long miles through a no-man's-land of salt marsh.  The first year we ran the marathon was in 2006, its inaugural year, and friends from Highlands had joined us.  It rained the entire way, and to this day my friend Fred (one of the victims I had enthusiastically persuaded to come run on a "flat, fast course") says he becomes sick when he sees that blue finisher's shirt that I sometimes wear.

That's one of the best things about sharing a history of running with Martha.  We spent a good part of that day, and of this entire trip, reminiscing.  "That's where someone had a radio playing on the tailgate of his pickup, remember?" we would say.  It seemed like a long, long way to Kitty Hawk when we finished lunch - Sicilian clam chowder and salad, and delicious! - and left Manteo.  It is a long way, and we kept reminding ourselves that we ran all 26.2 miles of it (and more than once, in my case, which confirms Martha's declaration from time to time that I am "Not right in the head.")  

We arrived at the Hilton Garden Hotel in Kitty Hawk, which was very nice and nearly deserted this time of year.  Our balcony had a nice view of Kitty Hawk Pier, and there were some surfers in wet suits taking advantage of the waves.  Other than staying once or twice in hotels on the eve of a race, we have always stayed in rental houses in Duck.  The first time we stayed here, and two other times, we rented a small oceanfront house called Peace and Plenty that we absolutely loved.  At the time it was $700 per week, less than staying a week in a motel, and the house was filled with large, gorgeous oil paintings by Robin Sams, an artist who now owns a gallery in Edenton.  Alas, Peace and Plenty was purchased the year after our last stay, torn down, and replaced with a 12-bedroom monstrosity, like so many of the oceanfront houses here.  Oceanfront property is scarce in Duck, and smaller houses like Peace and Plenty are a prime target for developers who want to build a large rental house and have a good return on their investment.  In real estate, this principle is called "highest and best use," but it is unfortunate that it caused the destruction of  "lowest and perhaps not the best economical use," like that small, quirky art-filled house lovingly improved year after year by the owners.

The same thing has happened to the place where we stayed in Duck last April - where we have stayed, in fact, eleven times in the past twelve years - a one-story oceanfront house called Ocean Watch, with four tiny bedrooms and a dated interior, nestled down low in the dunes between its towering neighbors.  With its screened-in porch and unassuming size, we came to love it over the years, though we often talked about how it could be a target for more ambitious development.

Ocean Watch was bought and demolished shortly after we stayed there, and we were interested in seeing what kind of towering structure had been constructed.  We could see the new house from a long way down Marlin Drive, three stories and at least nine bathrooms, plus (of course) a swimming pool out back.  And an elevator, and a "theater room."  What a difference!

Of course, we can no longer afford to stay there, or probably anywhere in Duck for that matter.  The weekly rental rate has soared from well under $1000 to at least $10,000 during the height of the season, and it is already booked this year. That's a pretty good return on investment for the owners, and also a bargain for several family members or friends going in together and sharing the astronomical rental cost.  Gone are the days when a couple like ourselves could enjoy the simple experience of sitting on an old-fashioned screened-in porch watching it rain.

We drove up and down the road in Duck, revisiting a place where we had vacationed for so many years, and realized that most of the shops and restaurants were closed this time of year.  We had identified a new restaurant, though, that was open, called NC Coast, operated by the same chef who had founded Red Sky Cafe, one of our old favorites.  It was located right on the boardwalk, overlooking the sound, and both the food and the service were very good.

 

The sun was setting, and many diners went out onto the deck to take photos; even one of the chefs went out to see.

So it was a wonderful way to celebrate my 71st birthday, there in a window seat, watching the sun go down on another year and laughing and talking to each other about the many miles we have run together.