Here’s the bridge I drove across in a raging storm last week, as I mentioned in my last post. The speck you see just to the right of the peak is a truck, to give you an idea of scale. And yes, the bridge continues both to the left and the right of where this photo ends. It’s 2.7 miles (4.3 km) long and the only driving route to Hatteras Island that doesn’t involve a ferry.

Life here on the island is lived mostly either in the water, on the beach or . . . on stilts. Really. Nearly all the buildings on the island–and even the air conditioning units–are significantly above ground level. Hurricanes hit the Outer Banks more than any other place in the United States, and even when it’s not a direct hit, flooding is common, with storm surges and something a bit more tame sounding called “overwash.” I don’t care how tame it sounds, this is just what you think it is–the Atlantic meeting Pamlico Sound on TOP of Hatteras Island. No, thank you.

Sunday marks the end of the 2014 Atlantic hurricane season, and according to the weather service, this year was pretty quiet. Only one hurricane made landfall in the U.S this year. Guess where. Here. Right here.  On the 4th of July, Rodanthe experienced wave surges up to 5 feet high. David and I looked this up because we kept noticing debris trapped in shrubs and trees as much as chest high. Have I mentioned this island is FLAT? Yikes.

And this was not the only storm to flood Hatteras. Hurricane Sandy never actually hit here, but still caused extensive flooding. Some businesses seem to have given up . . .

This was part of a now defunct complex of pools, mini-golf, plus a number of super-cool, complicated go-cart tracks and who knows what else. Now all abandoned. The sea won.

So why come here?

Because sometimes it looks like this . . .

I know a photo doesn’t quite capture it, but trust me, this stunning undulating silver- blue was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Wow.

Of course, at other times it looks like this . . .

This was after a night of howling winds and intermittent heavy rain. We’d never seen it like this before, so David went down early one morning to check it out.

And then, a few minutes later, this . . .

Happened upon this the same day:

The seas have lifted up, Lord, 

    the seas have lifted up their voice;

    the seas have lifted up their pounding waves. 

Mightier than the thunder of the great waters,

    mightier than the breakers of the sea–

   the Lord on high is mighty. ∼Psalm 93: 3-4

And then some days, like yesterday, the surf is perfect. All day long we watched surfers out on the water, and I was struck by how important timing is in surfing. Not to take away from skills earned after hours–or years–of practice, but no matter how much skill you have, you can’t surf without being in the right place at the right time to catch the right wave. The wave itself is a gift, but you have to choose it, and then you have to ride it for all it’s worth.

This Thanksgiving week, David and I are thankful for you, dear friends and family, and also for the timing that made this journey possible. Here in Rodanthe, we’re grateful for the peace and very likely the best views we’ll have all year. Saturday we leave here and make our way down to Folly Beach, near Charleston, South Carolina, but there we’ll be on the first floor and a mile from the ocean. So fewer stunning views, but much closer proximity to an interesting city to explore (not to mention better access to higher ground).  I promise we know all of this journey is a gift, and we are definitely trying to ride it for all it’s worth.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The sea is very beautiful, especially at sunrise and sunset, as you can see from these sunrise photos taken from our deck (a fourth floor balcony).

Here on Hatteras Island the sun rises over the Atlantic and sets over Pamlico Sound, as you saw in the last post.

Even during the day, the waves are mesmerizing to watch:

But the sea is also dangerous, of course, and not just during storms.

Best shot I could get of Monday night’s lightning before deciding I’d rather be INSIDE!

One of the biggest dangers around here is actually sand. Cape Hatteras marks the meeting point of the southerly-flowing cold Labrador Current and the northerly-flowing Gulf Stream, resulting in great deposits of sand, called the Diamond Shoals, which are dangerous shallows which extend up to fourteen miles out into the Atlantic. So many ships have wrecked here, this area has earned the nickname “Graveyard of the Atlantic.” Hence all the cool lighthouses.

I learned a bit about lighthouses from the guide at the Cape Hatteras Lighthouse. (Landlubber Alert! Extreme ignorance ahead!) It was news to me that each light has its own signal pattern, also called the “nightmark.” For example, the signal pattern for Bodie (pronounced “body”) Lighthouse is 2 ½ seconds on, 2 ½ seconds off, 2 ½ seconds on, 22 ½  seconds off. I also did not realize that some lights use different color lights like red and green, as well as white. And lighthouses are painted so distinctively–the “daymark”–not just so they’re beautiful, but so ships at sea can easily identify exactly which lighthouse they’re seeing, whether day or night. Okay, I know, DUH, but I had no idea of any of this. I will spare you all I learned Googling for more info during an hour of insomnia during the wee hours the other night. Super cool. LOVE learning new things!

I had my own tense moments of wishing for a guiding light late Monday afternoon, driving alone back to the condo from the north, on the Herbert C. Bonner Bridge, 2.7 miles of narrow two-lane roadway, sweeping WAY up over an inlet between the Atlantic and Pamlico Sound. Just as I approached the bridge, the storm increased in intensity, blowing almost horizontally and reducing visibility to super-scary. The car in front of me kept drifting to the center and staying there, over the double yellow line, directly in the path of oncoming traffic. I backed way off, hoping to avoid being part of whatever accident he was about to cause, but that bridge seemed to go on forever.

At the end of the bridge he pulled over and I had a split second to decide whether to stop there, too, or try to make it home, but it was nearly 4:30 and the sun sets here around 4:45, leaving me still half an hour away on dark Highway 12, so I decided to keep going, although I was now in the lead, visibility about one car length. Worse, David and I have been on this road in the rain, and standing water is the norm during any precipitation, so you can imagine it during a torrential downpour such as this. And just to keep things interesting, there was a tornado watch for northeastern North Carolina until 6 p.m. Yikes. Seriously. YIKES. There was a whole lot of praying going on! I’ve never been so glad to finally pull into a parking lot in my life.

Just as I was getting my heart rate back to normal, and I was checking the news for any word of a tornado, I realized this condo is on the fourth floor and there is no such thing as a basement on this entire island, since it’s basically a giant sandbar! Ah, peaceful life at the beach. Not every day, apparently!

So here’s wishing you a terror-free week, or at least safe passage in spite of fears that may come.

He has not learned the lesson of life who does not every day surmount a fear.  ~Ralph Waldo Emerson

There is much in the world to make us afraid.  There is much more in our faith to make us unafraid.  ~Frederick W. Cropp

There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.  ~André Gide

We can easily forgive a child who is afraid of the dark; the real tragedy of life is when men are afraid of the light. ∼ Plato   

Remember how I said after living in France for a few months everything back in the states felt so LOUD? Well, we found the quiet. It’s here in Rodanthe (pronounced Roh-DANTH-ee, which I just learned). . .

In fact at this time of year Rodanthe is practically a ghost town. We’ve rented one of maybe 60 condos in this complex, but we usually see no more than five or six cars here at any one time. It is beautiful and roomy, though . . .

. . . which is a nice change after the tiny place we rented in Alexandria, that was barely larger than the bed. Plus, we have this view of the Atlantic from the deck (and the living room and the master bedroom, which both open onto the deck):

Sunday was a bit cloudy but no rain, with temps in the 60’s, so we went for a walk on the beach.

Here’s one of our neighbors . . .

Mornings here so far have been blue-grey . . .

But evenings? Wow! We can see the Pamlico Sound from the kitchen window, but it’s blocked a bit by other condos, so we walked across the street to really see this:

I could not stop taking pictures of this sunset. I promise these sunset photos are not enhanced in any way. These are the actual colors.

We’ve finally unpacked the car and reorganized everything. It was feeling like we just kept cramming more into every corner, which is NOT a restful feeling. So now we’re able to relax a bit, walk a lot, and admire the sky in all its moods. I’m loving the warmth and the peace, but three weeks in Rodanthe will be long enough, I expect. No one to laugh with here, at least not so far.

I hear it has been crazy cold in Fort Collins this week, so my heart goes out to all of you experiencing winter before winter even officially arrives. You know how fond I am of cold! So here’s wishing you warm blankets, toasty fires, and steaming cups of . . . well, whatever you enjoy drinking steaming hot!

The week in Alexandria visiting Chelsea went by in a flash, but we managed to fit in lots of fun, beginning with the fabulous birthday dinner at Chart House mentioned in the last post, followed on Sunday by the not-nearly-so-fun watching the Broncos get trounced by the Patriots. Ouch.

Monday, we all had to work, but David and I had time for a walk down King Street and lunch here . . .

. . . where everything was so picturesque I snapped away like the tourist I am . . . .

See what I mean?

Tuesday night we met Chelsea and Will and his parents at Los Tios Grill, a fabulous Mexican restaurant in Alexandria (technically “Tex-Mex-Salvadorean”). WOOHOO! The one thing nigh near impossible to find in France is Mexican food, and I LOVE Mexican food. Forgot my camera, but I was pretty busy chatting and enjoying my dinner and margaritas. Yum. And bonus, spunky-charming waitress who kept us all laughing. Love nights like that.

Thursday night Chelsea had invited a few friends to meet us at Top Golf . . .

. . . which turned out to be super entertaining. It’s like a driving range, but not so boring–and a pub, but not so sedentary. Perfect combination, if you ask me.

Chelsea has almost zero previous golf experience, so she was just thoroughly having fun.  But after Jen soundly beat us the second round, I started thinking, “Game On.”  And although Jen’s shots continued to be absolutely beautiful and straight, she very kindly missed a few of the targets during the third round (and, okay, the counter cheated her out of a few points, too). Anyway I managed to score highest. Be very impressed. So instead of a highly unflattering shot of me, I’ll show you this . . .

But now really look at it, and be sure to admire the impressive consistency of my scores. Sheesh. Truly stunning. After my first six balls, as you may imagine, I was NOT HAPPY. At all. Interesting that once Chelsea reminded me to just relax and have fun, I started nailing the targets. Disturbing that I needed that reminder while chatting with friends and drinking Man-Mosas (Mimosas with a bit of beer to cut the sweetness–better than they sound).

Which brings me to today’s little lesson for Sunny: Perfectionism does not create perfection. It just sucks the fun and life out of whatever you’re doing imperfectly.

Here’s wishing you a joyfully imperfect week! (Unless you’re the Denver Broncos. You Broncos can feel free to be as perfect as you’d like!)

Thanks, Chelsea, for the fun and the wisdom!