Mother mother ocean, I have heard your call...

I spent Sunday through Wednesday of last week at the Outer Banks. Crystal and I (having patched up the earlier fight) left Sunday night and stopped at the tiny amusement park in Nags Head to ride the Ferris wheel (which struck terror into her heart), the Spyder (which struck nausea into mine), and the kiddie roller coaster (which feels pretty much like my version of back road driving). We made it up pretty late and just in time, because I was practically swooning with exhaustion.

Monday brought lunch with my grandmother and two hours of swimming in the ocean -- swimming out to the surfers' breakers, riding the waves back to the beach, freefalling as they dropped us once they passed. A few of them broke right over my head, which is a startling, exhilarating experience when you're too close to shore. We both got badly battered and lightly burned, and our throats were scorched with salt water by the time we made it out.

After dinner at the pizzeria, we drove back to Nags Head and went dancing at a surfer club... yes, I, Katharine Kuhl, danced. Crystal taught me how to at least pretend I know what I'm doing, and I had a great time. I'm going back over fall break, after I get a little more experience.

Tuesday... slept until one, another two hours of swimming, sticking a little closer to shore this time -- which means getting rolled when the waves break. "Rolling," for those of you heathens unfamiliar with the term, is a very scary experience if you're not used to it. A waves grabs you, throws you to the bottom, crushes you against the sand, rolls you a few times (if you're lucky, your face doesn't get smashed), and then recedes, leaving you on the beach, completely blinded by the salt water in your eyes, often realizing a few moments too late that the top of your suit is no longer doing its job. Do I enjoy it? Yes. Yes, I do. Although, since you can't see to get out of the way of the next wave, it often becomes a very prolonged experience.

We set off fireworks on the beach on Tuesday night. I bought these fireworks when my fellow pyromaniac Val visited me over my junior year spring break, and since the wind was too bad for our lighters, I hadn't found an occasion to set them off. Bask in the glory!








We set off sparklers and danced through the water, reflections gleaming in the shallow surf. Finally, firey things exhausted, we wandered down the lightless beach, bearing the shells of our fireworks, some sparkler sticks, and a box of matches. We ran into a group of guys near the pier who promptly asked for a light and tried to convince us that they were old and experienced; after chatting for a moment, we continued on. When we came back, these idiots had left their beer cans on the beach... I wish I could say they were just typical tourists, but they were probably natives. Bastards. We trashed the cans and headed back.

So this entry doesn't end on a bad note, here are a few more pictures.
























I can't wait to get back to AU... but all things considered, North Carolina isn't that bad. If I had to pick between Avon and DC, it would be a hard choice.