|The Chronicles of
© 2008 Gail Hunter
More about these later:
Continued our quest for the perfect cinnamon doughnut. The results;
1. Lots of coffee shops and bakeries are closed on Sunday morning.
2. Closest we came was at the Dancing Turtle in the town of Hatteras. The atmosphere
reminded us of the wonderful coffee shop on the main corner in Litchfield, CT. Good
coffee, lots of pastries, plenty of comfortable easy chairs (vintage), magazines, and
newspapers. A neighborhood gathering spot.
???? Am I really spelling doughnut wrong? Spell Check says so - but I think Spell Check
is wrong! So there!
Briefly - We made it to June! Huzzah!
Barbara & Paulique
The food and drink are not all the goodies -
The Dancing Turtle also sells local crafts
and packages of their own brands of both
coffee and teas - all attractively packaged.
We would come here again!
Before leaving Frisco Woods, we watched some
tent-dwellers having a blast kite boarding. I wondered
what would happen if the board got away from them
while they were up in the air. I'm kind of glad this sport
wasn't around when I was of that age.
The drive up the Outer Banks was varied, sometimes pretty, sometimes interesting, and lots
of time tacky - or rather, not to my taste: crowded, gentrified, commercial. This is true of the
northern end, starting round Avon. If you need lots of stores, this is for you, otherwise, stay
south. We loved Frisco Woods Campground...and they rent neat little log cabins if you don't
have a motorhome - plus kayaks, canoes, all the fun stuff.
Near Kitty Hawk - left: the dunes are not so high and continuous. There are many views of
Pamlico Sound on the left, and occasional glimpses of the Atlantic on the right. The dunes
are fiercely sculpted by wind and water, oftentimes spilling over into the road. Plows stand at
the ready. As you approach the Oregon Inlet bridge, it all flattens out. You can feel the
pull of the current on the sand bars, sweeping out to sea only to be thrust back in with a
change in the tide. This is one looooooooooooong causeway/bridge, leading to Kitty Hawik.
|We Find A Donut Worthy Of Our Search
Its proper name is Duck Donuts. Cor read about it in one of
those glossy visitors guides: lots of kudos. I looked it up on
the Internet and read the many rave reviews. For a DONUT?
We'd better check it out.
We stopped at the visitor center where I-158 splits west from
NC-12. I asked the lady at the desk if she could give us the
directions to Duck Donut. "Not sure, but it might be in Duck, further up Route 12." We
tell her we've read about it and expect it to be nearby.
Backtracking, when we arrived at the center, there was a long boardwalk up to the door.
As I hobbled up a very nice, smiley gentleman held the door for me. It was one of those
times. I had a feeling he looked like a man who enjoyed his donut, and I almost asked
him, "Where?" But I didn't.
Then, out from the back room came my donut man carrying a box -
a box of Duck Donuts! It was karma! "Cross I-158, turn right at the
first light, go to the 2nd driveway." and there was the Duck! We
ordered 4 cinnamon ones - warm, crispy and delicious. Not heavy
cake; not raised - halfway in between, thanks to the many trials of
the manager, Paulique (here on the right.) We suspect she may be
one of the original owners.
As we chatted, she was buzzing around behind the counter, only to appear with a HOT,
RIGHT OUT OF THE FAT, absolutely fantastic doughnut for us to share. WOW! This was
IT! I asked Barbara who were their biggest customers - she said realtors. I guess they sit
around each morning over coffee discussing the latest listings. Better look into that.
|And So, We Leave The Outer Banks
Coming through northern NC, we notice signs of spring: day lilies along the wayside and
acres of plowed fields with rows of corn varying from baby sprouts to eight inches high. In
Vermont, and I suppose elsewhere, the saying goes, "Knee high by the 4th of July." It
usually takes until the first of August to find our favorite tender sweet freshly-picked "butter
and sugar" ears there. The only place we've found it to equal Mazza's in Colchester is at
a roadside stand in Carmel, NY.
|On to Virginia and The Dismal Swamp
We stopped at the visitor center along US 17 and walked down to the dock running along
the Dismal Swamp. This had been our favorite route from Albemarle Sound to Norfolk
and Portsmouth. After many rough and risky crossings of the Sound in years past, this
was always a quiet haven of deep woods and slowly moving water, made black by the
trees contributing both shade and tannin.
Spying a jaunty 32' express-type power boat tied up there, we stopped to chat with the
owners. I've misplaced their card now, but the captain is a retired Delaware River pilot,
currently from Lewes, MD. Lewes is a bustling port - the western terminus for the Lewes
to Cape May Ferry. We considered taking that route north, but the tariff for motorhomes is
steep, and it would have put us on the Jersey Tpk - something we did not want to do.
It was a joy to see big, lush
greenery along the highway
again. And a smooth
blacktop road with a wide
shoulder delighted Cor.
Although other RVers had recommended driving an average of 250 miles a day, we just
seemed to keep on rolling. The roads were good and we felt comfortable going further.
We spent the first night at a Cracker Barrel north of Winchester, VA. With an early start
on the morning of June 4th, we found ourselves on my brother Gib Patterson's doorstep in
Southport, CT. He and his wife, Anne were busy planting window boxes of flowers, but
that done, we enjoyed cocktails and dinner with them before heading out to Moby to sleep.
Gib checked with the Fairfield Police Department and learned
that as long as parking was allowed on the street, we could
park there overnight. I think the local residents were surprised
to see this monster in their front yard, but it was a lovely spot
(left - their new flag, and right - one of our finer bedroom vistas.
June 5th was a bonus day thanks to good driving conditions the days before. Gib took us
down to the Yacht Club to see his new Legacy 28, Mignon, so named for the opera
because it's the only one with a happy ending. Left: Mignon at her mooring; 2nd. Gib at
the helm; and right, Pequot Yacht Club, favorite subject of artists and photographers. At
lunch, we had a chance to chat with many old friends, then packed it all in and headed to
our next stop - Hammonasset State Park in Madison, CT.
We pulled into site #28 at Hammonasset State Park, Exit 62 on
the Connecticut Turnpike (I-95.) A tent site on the left took up
most of the area, so we decided to go in head first as our awning
pulled out on our right side and we didn't want to be right in their
faces. Facing northeast,this avoided the late afternoon sun -
and it turned very hot during our stay.
Driver Cor is happy
to put his feet up
and relax watching
the birds and
squirrels playing in
That night, the boys
next door built
themselves a cheery
campfire - I don't
know if they knew we
enjoyed it too!
Ever hear of Ruther Glen, VA? Neither had we. But we left our mark there on June 3 - an
Incident, as the insurance people usually call it. Cor pulled into a gas station, but was
worried he stuck out too far for cars to pass, so decided to pull around to the far pump with
more clearance. Well, the sun hit him in the eye as he turned around the pumps and this
big blue/grey steel U-shaped post did its job - protected the pump by shoving Cor out of the
way. In fact, it did its job so well, it took a couple of squares of fiberglass out of the rear,
slammed in a bay door and tried to make off with the air conditioner.
Left: Stove-in Bay door
Right: The Perp inspecting damage
Cor talked to station owner who said "Forget it, it
happens all the time." And so, we did.
|We called our Progressive Ins. Co - Check in later for follow-up.