I grew up just eighty miles inland from the Outer Banks of North Carolina.  My first memories of "going to the beach" were fishing trips with my mama and daddy. Mama, especially, loved to fish more than anything.  In those days we crossed the waterways on ferry boats.  The roads on the beach were sandy and we sometimes got stuck. That was all part of the adventure.

By the time I was a teenager highway 12 was paved.  It became an easy day trip from my home town, Plymouth, NC, to Nags Head and Oregon Inlet, favorite fishing spots.  Whenever relatives visited, a trip to the beach was always on th agenda.  Riding the ferry, climbing Hatteras Lighthouse, and surf fishing made great entertainment for our guests.

Now I live much further inland. It is a four hour trip to the beach, and I stay the whole weekend when  I go.  There are bridges connecting most of the islands, the roads are paved, and shopping centers, condos, and traffic have changed the beach experience considerably.

But, for those of us who know where to look, solitude can still be found for long walks on the shore with the waves washing the sand out from under your feet and laughing gulls making merry at your expense.  The Outer Banks is a place steeped in history, a place populated by hardy Banker people, who, like the gulls, laugh at we outsiders and our ways.  It is also a place where we can leave the world and its troubles behind and be inspired to create and recreate.