32.7 mi / 13.6 mph / 56 ft. climbing
Home: Frisco Campground

Rett was sweating in our room when we were packing up, convinced something was wrong with her, but when I stepped out onto the balcony to take my coffee and breakfast, I realized that it was just damn hot. Well, “only” like 73 degrees, but the bigger factor was the 90% humidity. I’ve been concerned over the last month about whether we dallied too long in New England before turning south, but now it almost seems like the opposite: we should have stayed north longer!

But really, we have zero grounds on which to complain about the weather. Since we left upstate New York in mid-August, we’ve had as close to perfect outdoor-living conditions as touring cyclists can be given, far better than even my highest hopes.

A mile after we resumed that southward movement, we turned east (to the easternmost point of North Carolina) to see the Rodanthe Pier. Rett was disappointed that the pier itself seemed closed and under construction, but thought just walking under it was worth the stop. The waves break stronger here than anywhere else we’ve seen on the Outer Banks, and surfers were out there proving it.

Similar to yesterday, we had (fewer, chiller) miles of civilization to ride through before returning to the National Seashore where it was just the road, the dunes, and the water on each side. When we pulled off onto a sandy beach access road for a sweat-mopping break in a rare bit of shade, we were attacked by mosquitoes, for the first time all “summer” (it’s nearly November)! Yes we’re moving south too fast!

Yesterday we set up our chairs and ate lunch on the ocean side, and this time we chose the sound side. We were thankful for the thousandth time for our chairs, since they let us sit in the shade of the lone large bush near the parking area rather than melting at a picnic table.

For at least the first 20 miles, my bike computer recorded literally zero feet of climbing. With no bridges, it must have been the flattest 20 miles we’ve ever pedaled. But at the OBX’s “turn”, which contains the islands’ widest section, an inland “shortcut” through Buxton suddenly raised us 10 feet above the water! It wasn’t quite high enough that we noticed any difficulty breathing, but we did notice that the houses were just “normal”, without any stilts lifting them off the ground!

Then when we turned off to our campground, things got even more insane. We climbed 46 feet in that final mile, much of it up a legitimately-challenging hill up to our specific site! I guess it’s a place where the sand dunes are large and stable enough to have solidified into actual hills.  A neighboring site actually had a steep 10-slope out its backside that you could tumble down if you turned the wrong way during your midnight pee. Is this the Outer Banks or the Grand Tetons?!

I had booked our campsite after the breezy night on Bells Island, so I made a point of getting one that would provide plenty of wind shelter. It turns out the winds were light enough that the trees were unnecessary for that purpose, but we sure were glad that they were there to provide shade! It was 77F at 3pm, and many of the sites were nothing but sweltering sand in the full sun.

It was also a bit of a risk booking a campground with only cold showers, but our timing couldn’t have been more perfect; of the dozens of campgrounds we’ve stayed at this summer/fall, this is probably the only time when we would have chosen a cold shower!