Sunday, June 10, 2012

Coming Home


Comin’ Home
June 6, 2012
Dear Hank,
Yesterday we crossed the Bonner Bridge to Hatteras Island at 4:40 pm. Looking to our right we saw several deep sea charter boats headed for the docks at Oregon Inlet. The boats glistened white against the low angled sun. Their radio towers and outriggers bent back as they moved through the narrow channel, one behind the other, separated by a hundred yards or more. Each boat creating it’s own bow wake.
We looked to see if they were flying any flags, a sign as to whether they had caught any big fish - flag upright, they caught a big one; flag upside down, they caught one and let it go. We were too far away to really tell, but we thought we saw at least one small flag flapping right behind the cabin area.
As we came up the rise of the bridge we could see more white boats entering the channel, and more behind that lining up to come into the channel, and more behind that. The line of boats stretched in a large lazy S all the way to the horizon and then traversed slightly to the north. The line started as easily discernible images of boats and then to white dots and then to black specs on the horizon; all making their way home. 
Looking from the top of the bridge you can see the 13 miles to Rodanthe, the horizon soundside twitching with kite activity. Kiters were up, testing their rigs, and surfing across the Pamlico Sound, ten, twenty, thirty kites maybe more. We could see them in lines of perspective: first near the sounside pulloffs and then in the towns of Rodanthe, Waves, and Salvo. They were flying from the soundside beach areas by the big houses and the large kite shops: Kitty Hawk Kites, and Real Kites. 
When you see that many kiteboarding kites all flying at once, the horizon seems to be alive and quivering as the huge arc shapes of the kites move back and forth.
To the ocean side there’s a string of white boats, in front of us are the dunes and wetlands of Pea Island. There’s a sense of timelessness to the images and scenes, a sense of relief, a sense of coming home. It’s good to come home.
Bryce