Running Away: A Week in The Outer Banks
This year has thus far been spent entirely in Charleston, and though I did just return home from months on the road in early December, and I do love my beautiful hometown, there is an innate, existential desire deep in my heart to see as much of this country as possible.
So when Alyse & Brian, two close friends, started spreading rumors — and then invite — of an Outer Banks week-long rendezvous, I had no choice but to give my boss fair warning;
I would be gone the following week.
Joining us in our adventure would be Ethan, Allie, & Becca. We would form two teams in preparation for our assault on the “Windansea.” Ethan, Allie, and I would drive up to Charlotte Sunday after church to drop off their child and dog (Tebow, see above). The second team, consisting of Brian, Alyse, & Becca would drive up around noon Monday — attempting the 8-9 hour trek in one go.
Not captured: two methheads in a Caprice watching intently as Allie took photos of me pumping gas
Our drive was anything but grand — with both Ethan and Allie working from home, and I find an uncanny amount of enjoyment in driving, I took the wheel most of the time. Whether driving from Charlotte, like us, or Charleston, like the others, getting to the Outer Banks is lengthy and beautiful. I have made this drive most recently two years ago, solo, in search of a coming storm swell.
The swell came, I got worked, and then I slept in a furniture store parking lot south of Kitty Hawk. But the one image that has stuck most with me is of the never ending trees, fields and dotted lines — often white, sometimes yellow. Eastern North Carolina is beautiful — dispersed, communal in a sense. Here you will see how most of this country, though no doubt regionally varied, lives.
In any case, we arrived later that day. Our destination would be Brian & Alyse’s “Windansea,” which you can rent for yourself here. From this point on, we were divided in two teams: Brian, Ethan, and I were focused on one thing; surfing. The forecast held for building swell throughout the week, peaking for us on Thursday, as we were to leave Friday, but ultimately peaking the following Sunday.
As the sun rose Tuesday morning, the three of us rose consecutively to the living room — blessed with wall to wall sliding doors — in hopes of seeing something — truthfully, anything.
And the news was good! Small peelers, rights and lefts to be chosen at will. But as with all good news, bad news follows; Brian, who works remote, did not actually take the week of work.
So Ethan and I paddled out without him.
I prefer to hang out back.
As such, there are not many pictures for most of this day! Not at least until Ethans wife, Allie, came down with her camera (after she finished her work…Ethan and I were the only ones who actually took off).
So Tuesday was anything but a dud, especially when considering dinner. We agreed on rotating cooking duties — first, Brian & Alyse, second Ethan & Allie, third Becca & I. Tuesday was some fantastic steaks — genuine craftsmanship resulting in a range of rare to medium cuts of meat.
In the end, the only ones who did not take full advantage of Tuesday were those who decided to work for the entirety of a vacation.
Speaking of, this was a difficult trip for me in that regard. Balancing business and pleasure, content and intruding into my friends lives. More often than not, I am traveling with people who create similar content. For the first day or two I planned on recording a vlog, perhaps two or three, for the entire trip. Yet as time went on, I became uncomfortable documenting the lives of people to share with thousands who themselves do not document their lives. Truthfully I’m unsure if that was the feeling of others or self imposed, but in any case I reverted to photos & short videos rather than extended documentation of our adventures.
But now, Wednesday.
Wednesday was the equivalent of the opening credits of a movie, the first strum of a guitar in a country song, the taking your foot off of the brakes as the red light turns green.
We knew the “best” was to come, but being as we had all driven 9 hours from Charleston, “better” would do. Ethan & Brian spent the afternoon in the shorebreak, riding nuggets and getting worked. Meanwhile, I was out back on my 9.6 longboard in search for a wave that had not yet broken — a roller — of which there were many. The difficulty lied in the tide, meaning there was too much water resulting in not only a wave not breaking (good), but a wave dying out and simply being absorbed (bad). I feel as though I spent hours paddling around on my knees or criss-cross-apple-sauced searching for THE wave, though in the end I merely caught two waves which required an extensive amount of paddling. In moments like the aforementioned, I consider my time spent not surfing, but rather a combination of suntanning and working out.
Ethan & Allies dinner for Wednesday was a pretty insane pan quesadilla — I’m unsure if it is capable of being recreated.
As Thursday came, so did the swell, and we made our way north of Windansea for the first time. It’s worth mentioning that the entire week we were in the OBX, we were quite literally the only surfers. We saw no one else in the water, ever. Plenty of fishers, rather few surfers.
With occasional chest or shoulder high sets, an easy paddle out, and water that had warmed substantially (53º instead of 50º), we spent the entirety of Thursday at the beach, in the water, and getting smashed into the sandbar onto which the waves were breaking.
And the three of us paid with righteous wetsuit tanlines.
Thursday evening we were blessed with a most beautiful sunset, a most delicious meal (Becca & I made goulash), and I had a few minutes to reflect on how far I have come.
Merely four short years ago,
I was genuinely lost. Not spiritually or physically — mentally. Lost because I didn’t go to college, lost because I didn’t have any acquaintances — let alone friends, lost because I was incapable of maintaining faith in (NOT knowing or seeing) Gods plan for me. One day I will write a book including stories on the transformation that has followed and what turned me into who I am today, but if there’s any advice I am educated enough to give to, say, a lost 17 or 18 year old, it’d be the following;
So long as you have a simple guide (re: Bible & intuition) of what not to do, of what people not to be around, of what job not to work, so on and so forth, you have a decent foundation. The greatest three choices I’ve ever made in my life are as follows; a solo hiking trip to The Alps that cost the entirety of my savings (see below), taking a gap year that resulted in not going to college, and finding a church — most importantly — on my own.
That, and all the rest, is to be laid as His feet.
The Ultimate Creator, He
lets no dove go unfed,
no grain unwatered,
no Child unprovided for.
Until next time,
Bryce C
