outer banks paddling

ive been itching to go paddling "down east" and finally i wrangled mike fisk and jordan nance to come along to the southeast corner of the state for the weekend. we got to harkers island after dark and decided to sleep at the park boat launch. unfortunately the park museum was hosting the annual duck decoy festival and was bustling with people. we attempted to blend in with the brooks brothers suit coats crowd while hovering over the wild game spread; stuffing our faces with boiled shrimp and crab salad, duck pate, beef livers, and venison as well as an open bar.

bellies full, we excused ourselves to crash in the parking lot, the only thing is that apparently on fridays the only thing to do on the island for locals is to drive to dead end cul-de-sacs and make out. not just for 15 yr olds anymore old people too. literally every shady dead end was packed with face-suckers!!! soooo we headed back to the museum and decided to sleep in the parking lot because we saw a scout troop camping out. we walked up the trail and passed around a bottle of whisky and fell asleep. sometime in the night the webelos found us with their flashlights and we heard their whispers "i think we found homeless people, look at all the liquor bottles, gross. i bet they just finished eating children." i woke up and yelled at them and was sure upon reporting to their scout masters they earned a sexual predator/hobo merit badge for disturbing creepy forest hermits.

the usual suspects

mike fisk


jordan glenn nance


yours truly

we got up early and paddled across the sound to west end of shackleford banks. the island is inhabited by wild ponies; a remnant of early explorers. the horses browse down the vegetation so the island resembles a manicured golf course complete with greens and sandy bunkers.





we camped in this amphitheater-like bowl protected from the wind halfway from the sound and ocean. we collected clumps of oysters and steamed them in the shells over the fire as an appetizer and finished with ground venison and hashbrown scramble. and fell asleep while visions of redfish and mackerel danced in our heads.










no luck fishing despite a valiant effort and headed home on sunday.





the dudes return from a great paddle