We arrived Sunday morning to a Red Flag Beach which contrary to my belief means no swimming. I swam in the surf for about 15 minutes while Ms. Arcen played high on the sand with Mary. I was not sure why I was the only one out there battling it until the 4 wheeler came to give me the message that a Red Flag Beach means NO SWIMMING.
Kitty Hawk. Here child, dog and huge chunk of rock mark the spot where the first successful flight of an airplane piloted by Orville Wright took place on December 17, 1903.
There were 3 short flights to mark the occasion then the long one all the way to the end of the field. Ms. Arcen looked at me over her shoulder smiling and exclaimed, "I'll race ya dad!" It was on.
Look out out people I have to get to the top of Kill Devil Hill to check out the monument!
Leading the way, as usual.
On top of Kill Devil Hill child and dog are inspired by seeing the monument from afar, now up close.
This monument felt dark and grand at the same time.
Ms. Arcen told me that her inspiration comes from thoughts of history and of what it must have been like to live at that time. Notice the scale of the blocks behind Mary then look back at the previous image.
No one told me that the Wright Brothers were from Ohio until we returned.
Ms. Arcen marks the spot above our camp where we started our approach to the ocean roughly 120 meters to the east. Later that night well after dark under the twinkling blanket of the Milky Way I laid in the tent facing the direction of the ocean feeling sleep come over me. I was connected by a thin mat and the tent fabric to this narrow piece of landscape which is surrounded by water(see above map). At the point of unconsciousness I could feel how small I really am intrinsically attached to that place and time on earth. My heartbeat was bouncing off of the solid but vulnerable sand dune. Without moving I then heard Karsen's heartbeat feeling the same smallness and grandeur. She felt it too but the awareness was happening while she was already asleep and dreaming in color.
The look over the first hill shows the configuration of hummocky dunes that lead to the Atlantic Ocean.
This present Header Image is telling.
I know Mary has been to the ocean with me more than once before but she must have forgot what it tastes like. She drank a big sip and then could not seem to get the salty taste out of her mouth.
The kitchen at our camp.
The surf was still big, 6 to 7ft 2 days after Hurricane Bill passed a few hundred miles off shore.
The surf was still big, 6 to 7ft 2 days after Hurricane Bill passed a few hundred miles off shore.
The Gulls sometimes simply floated above our heads riding the wind currents without effort or forward movement in front of an azure cloudscape back drop.
Sunset over the Pamlico Sound.
The base of the Bodie Lighthouse.
In early dawn the search for shark teeth was on.
To find a shark's tooth one has to look for the small signature black triangle pointy through a myriad of ocean debris that always looks like this.
Unbelievably Ms. Arcen shot this image of my right arm coming out of the explosion of water that I was pummeled by. Like I am waving hello or flailing for control of my human form, you tell me. Later after this picture was made a wave that I was planning on diving through lifted me up to the crest, turned my face up to the sky body parallel to the coast and then dropped me straight down hard into the sand floor. Besides Gravity there is love.
Mary is right, this stuff tastes really bad.
The Albemarle Sound Monday morning.
2 comments:
Beautiful shots of this transfer, surprising surf. revealing skies
thanks Raytch.....
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