Wilbo Explores the Tidewater - and Tells His Friends

Hello Ulu, there's much to like about Hampton Roads, where the tide meets water of a thousand rivers. A week ago, I was drinking wine with a marine biology professor from Hampton University. I learned that the phrase, "the blacker the college, the sweeter the knowledge" is so 1980s, however. It didn't show up on tee shirts until 1993 in Detroit, so how was I to know? Our wine-nista kept filling our glasses with a dizzying array of tastings, so at least now I'm sure I've found a place to take my daily glass. I have a choice of walking, thank goodness.

I was driving through the backwaters of Pungo, home of a famous blueberry farm closed for now so the blueberries can plumpen undisturbed, and I had to stop a verify what I read on a sign hanging from a postbox: MARRIAGE NOTARY. I am wondering how that works, if a marriage notary notarizes marriages. If one drives south in Michigan, one is sure to find a major road. If one drives south in Pungo, one is sure to drive through a wildlife sanctuary, into the state of North Carolina, up to a sound between a barrier island and the mainland and an onto island with a dwindling populace. Simply keep driving south, and one solves the problem by driving onto one of eight of North Carolina's state sponsored ferries. This forty-five minutes crossing had no admission charge at all. I often plan to take ferries; this was the first time I had stumbled upon a ferry crossing. I have a feeling this is a metaphor for my stay south of the Mason - Dixon line. The crossing ends in Currituck, N.C., a town that has abandoned antique buildings with peeling paint, and turning south drives on onto the barrier islands hosting Kitty Hawk and Cape Hatteras and towards the ferry for Ocracoke Island. Turning north returns one to Norfolk, and Currituck was as far as I drove south that day.

Ocracoke, surely you know, was the retreat of Blackbeard after he retired with his booty, his 14 married beauty, and a few pardons from Britain's Royal Governors. Alas, the Royal Governor of Maryland sent a sailing force south from the James River to spoil Blackbeard's island idyll. This is definately a must see for my "Pirates of the Caribbean" obsessed daughter and I.

Have fun replinthing and refurbishing your Missouri milleau. I think we are both suited only for communities older than three centuries.

Wilbo

Dear J.

Writing to you from Norfolk, Virginia, the latest place my so called career has taken me. I have officially driven across the country from Oregon to Michigan, from Michigan to Virginia. Oy. My fuel pump blew in the Allegheny Mountains, setting me back 800 smackeroos, but otherwise the bonzer green truck is running great.

Haven't found a coastal town like Youchats, but if I do, I'm moving there. Pat Robertson films in next door Virginia Beach; Ralph Reed started his life and career in Portsmouth across the Elizabeth River from here. Giuliani came to speak at Robertson's university, Regent University, because they could totally control conditions in the conference center. I'm betting the Giuliani campaign had a background dossier on each member of the 700 person audience.

It's an interesting place; I better change my drivers' license because Yankee Michigan causes a lot of tongues to cluck. Plus any moving violation ticket comes with a 1000 - 3000 dollar penalty in addition to the ticket fee, payable in three yearly payments, you hear? I'm thinking of driving screamingly to New Jersey, about 200 miles north of hear.

I will be driving home soon for the 4th of July weekend; at least it follows the 4th. Give love to wife and daughter from me too !

Of course, I was running down Norfolk because it's caught in the puritan tradition. On the other hand, Norfolk is a land cracked by rivers: the Lafayette, the Elizabeth, the Lynnhaven, Little Creek, Broad Creek, Thalia Creek and a few more that don't show up on Google Maps. It seems that only Mapquest condescends to name the lakes and rivers. Even Microsoft Live Maps overlooks these features of geography.

It's pretty easy to escape civilization too. If one drive across the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay by means of the tunnel - bridge there, one lands on the cape of Virginia and a sandy land of low population and barrier islands surrounded by shallow bays and sounds. The roads all have numbers to identify them, most of the towns are made of a church and a graveyard and a decrepit abandoned school and perhaps a small post office and most roads terminate at water's edge, and these places are called landings. I found myself at Cushman's Landing, and a man and woman in a truck identified the ruins there as his grandfather's house, his grandfather's home close to the lighthouse he managed before lighthouse automation made him jobless. It's mostly wildlife reserve now, so after the federals bought the rights, the home site was allowed to naturalize, fall to rubble, rubble sinking into the mixture of sand and thick oyster shell. I wandered the ruins, and a wall along a creek shore hid a remarkable surprise. I thought the first one looked like a spider. When I heard the clatter of exoskelton, I was alarmed. Then I guffawed to see about 1000 little Chessie crabs running sideways away from me, their big white claws snapping to guard their retreat, warning me to back off. I had to call my daughter about that sight right away, and the cell phone worked for about a minute before losing signal.

I was just driving south of the city, leaving Virginia Beach quickly after a Mr. Steroids bodybuilder tried to snare me in an argument and pop me, and I ended up on Mackay Island, which I believe is also called Knott's Island. Knott's Island has only one story, and a woman named Caitlin who worked there explained the store served as the Redneck Mall. However, I did find three wineries open, offering tastings of local grapes that grow on vines that propagate like Kudzu. I read about one wine called Kudzu Block Merlot; the vines are always in need of a trimming, and I've never seen such bushy vines. I think it shows in the reds, which almost have a malty richness to them

There's only two ways on and off Knott's Island, mostly wildlife reserve. One is the road upon which one arrived. One is the 45 minute free ferry that departs across Currituck Sound. Mackay's Island is one of the places where Ducks Unlimited got its start, so the waterfowl is incredible, and the breeding grounds close entirely to the public during crucial times. I made it to the ferry with time to spare before the last crossing.

A man and woman in a SUV pulled over behind me, and the man got out to talk to me. His GPS had directed him to this spot as the shortest path to Kitty Hawk and Cape Hatteras. He was annoyed that the GPS failed to hint at the water-crossing. I gave him the stats: one hour to wait and forty-five minutes to cross, putting him in Currituck and on the mainroad to Kitty Hawk by 7:15 PM. He acted more annoyed, reported to his wife what the "fine man from Michigan" had told him, and she started to verbalize her annoyance. They even waved down a sheriff on patrol to see if this were true. And so they drove off, trying to get off the island and onto the road south to Kitty Hawk. I am wondering if they shaved time off the 1.75 hour wait, and I wondered if they enjoyed themselves as much as I did, sitting on the observation deck of the Governor J.B. Hunt, seeing raptors nest on navigation poles and clusters of piles.