Great Article from Cleveland paper on the Outer Banks
Wild horses can't keep extended family from annual reunion in North Carolina's Outer Banks
April 14, 2010, 1:46PM
Peggy Turbett, The Plain DealerThree wild Currituck horses, descendants of the Spanish mustangs from the 1500s, graze on sea oats near a gazebo on the North Beach section above Corolla, N.C., July 2, 2009.
The car windows roll down at the first sight of water when we cross over the Albemarle Sound. Taking that first deep breath of shore air is one of the many small rituals that evolved over two decades of family reunions on the Outer Banks of North Carolina.
Once across the Wright Memorial Bridge, we'd head south. Along with the famous landmarks of the Wright Brothers National Memorial at Kitty Hawk and the massive dunes at Jockey's Ridge State Park, we'd pass the souvenir stores and gaudy putt-putt courses, the Jet Ski rentals and the outlet mall.
Lunch at the pink-walled Dunes Restaurant usually meant crab cake sandwiches and Hatteras chowder. Then, we'd join the 20-plus adults and children in the extended Turbett family for a week in two rented houses on McCall Court, at the southern end of Nags Head.
For 18 years, we'd end the beach day on the deck, sipping coffee or wine after dinner and watching for pelicans over the foaming waves of the Atlantic Ocean as the sun set behind us over the sound.
Last summer, after rolling down the windows crossing the sound, we headed north.
The houses that we usually rented in Nags Head were already booked, so reunion organizers Ranger Jim and Captain Rob (two of my brothers) scoured the Internet. They came up with a new spot, a single mega-house suitable for 20 to 25 Turbetts.
Can you say "Corolla"?
It's not as easy on the tongue as Nags Head, three syllables instead of two. Locals pronounce it Cuh-RAWL-uh, named for the inner circle of the flower and not for the subcompact car from Toyota.
The two towns lie 20 miles in opposite directions from milepost one, where U.S. 158 hits the beach. (Mileposts, not addresses, are used to mark the distance along the island's main north-south corridors.)
The characters of the towns are opposites, as well.
Commercialized Nags Head is named after a centuries-old legend about pirates who lured ships to shore with mares, or nags, that had lanterns tied around their necks.
Corolla still has wild mustangs roaming its northern beach.
Nags Head has been a seaside resort since the 1830s. Its sprawling growth teems with fast-food convenience and nighttime entertainment along the busy North Croatan Highway (U.S. 158).
Meanwhile, Corolla has kept the small village character drawn from its origins in 1875, when the Currituck Beach Lighthouse was built.
Once reachable only by driving on sand north from Duck, N.C., or south from Virginia, Corolla was further isolated from everyone except property owners in the 1970s by a guarded gate. The gate came down in 1984, when the state took over the road and extended North Carolina 12, with the ensuing rapid rise of beach homes.
Driving on the beach is still a novelty for tourists and a necessity for resort homes built in the dunes beyond the paved road. The young adults in our group could hardly wait to test the sand and, thanks to my niece's Jeep, eventually got the chance. But it's not for everyone or every car. A tow trucker parks near the beach ramp, itching to earn his keep from two-wheel-drive fools.
Taking the paved way to Corolla, we coursed up North Carolina 12, which is considered the pokey beach road paralleling the North Croatan Highway in Nags Head. From milepost one north, though, it is the only artery winding up through the communities leading to Corolla.
Curving 35 mph through sedate resort towns, I wondered how the family, particularly the teens, would take to the slower pace.
The bigger question: Would 22 Turbetts survive a week under the same roof?
Built in 1996 and christened "Family Ties," the solid three-story home we'd rented had plenty of space. Exploring our new vacation digs, we discovered eight bedrooms (including two bunk rooms and master suites bigger than my old apartment), six full bathrooms, fully equipped kitchen and laundry and three extensive dining tables, plus a game room with a pool table. The deck looked onto a landscaped outdoor pool, hot tub and tiki barbecue hut, with a direct view to the observation platform of the Currituck lighthouse.
But no ocean view. And the beach was a couple-minute walk down a sandy lane. In fact, most of Corolla village was a few minutes' walk away.
Food shopping required a six-mile drive to the Food Lion and upscale Harris Teeter supermarkets several times during the week. Good restaurants were just as far. But the daily trip for the newspaper was only a walk across the street to the old gas station/general store.
Just off School House Lane, our home for the week was adjacent to the old village of Corolla. Original buildings, dating from the late 1800s, are now restored as gift boutiques, a bookstore, barbecue shop and cafe. The Corolla Chapel, built in 1882 and renovated in 2002 with a beautiful pelican stained-glass window, still holds interdenominational services on Sunday.
To be honest, it's a spare assembly. Without a descriptive guide like "Corolla Walking Tour & Guide Book" (see accompanying story below on Suggested Reading), it's not easy to make the rich connection of these structures to early Corolla history.
Built as a private hunting lodge in 1925, The Whalehead Club and boat house offer a glimpse into the past with tours through the restorted estate, as viewed from the observation platform of the Currituck Beach Lighthouse, Wednesday, July 1, 2009.
Stepping back in time is easier farther down the road at the Whalehead Club. Built in 1925 as a private hunting lodge by Philadelphia businessman Edward Knight, the grand 23,000-square-foot mansion sits on a vast green lawn as part of the Currituck Heritage Park. A decade-long restoration project has restored the residence museum into an Art Deco treasure, complete with cork floors and Tiffany glass light fixtures.
My aunt and I explored the Whalehead Club on an afternoon break from the sun. Other family beach bums walked over for the Thursday evening concert on the lawn.
One morning, a few of us set out to climb the Currituck Beach Light Station, just a short pace across the road. Spiraling 214 steps to the top of the 162-foot, million-brick tower, we had an amazing view of the upper tip of the Outer Banks.
To the south, the sprawl of modern vacation homes vied with the spread of pine trees on the spit of Outer Banks land between the Atlantic Ocean and the Currituck Sound. Looking west, the yellow and copper Whalehead Club was set like a jewel on the green lawn next to the Wildlife Education Center on the edge of the sound.
And looking north, we could follow North Carolina 12 to the end of the road, up into the North Beach dunes where the mustangs roam.
Long before 18th-century pirates drew shipwrecks with lanterns at Nags Head, the wild mustangs ran the beach in what has become Corolla. Probably brought by Spanish explorers in the 1500s, the horses were left to breed into thick-hided, undomesticated herds.
The mustangs roamed freely in Corolla, into people's yards and even, by one local account, into the local Food Lion supermarket. (Expecting an apple handout, the mustang tripped the electronic eye on the sliding doors, walked over to the produce department and helped himself.)
But the paving of North Carolina 12 to Corolla in 1985 endangered the herd more than any hurricane or disease. Cars collided with 20 horses in the following decade, so a gate was erected in 1996. The mustangs, about 60 in number, were moved to the North Beach beyond the paved road.
It's a mile or so walk from our rented house to the end of the road, and it's possible to see the mustangs if they wander close to the gate. To be certain of seeing some of the herd, I roused two nieces early on Thursday morning and joined a group organized by Bob's Off-Road Wild Horse Tours.
From the rows of padded seats under a canopied truck bed, a dozen passengers felt the early morning breeze as our driver, Davis Scarborough, headed onto the sand.
We passed the tow-truck driver, waiting for his two-wheel-drive prey. Cars traveled in both directions on the beach, in contrast to the stationary fishermen and sunbathers on either side of the unmarked lanes.
The truck turned left, crossing into the clusters of resort homes reachable only at low tide by four-wheel-drive vehicles.
Up and down the sandy paths, the truck lurched and pitched as we looked for the elusive mustangs. By law, you can't go within 50 feet of the horses. So we knew we couldn't feed or touch the animals. Still, we hoped to get a glimpse of a stallion or mare.
Then we pulled over. Climbing out of the cab, Scarborough pointed over to the dune. Three mustangs, one pregnant, nibbled at sea oats on the ridge, oblivious to the humans watching from the observation gazebo.
Mustangs dotted the dunes on our return drive. A herd of six stood around a young foal, catching the sea breezes along shoreline. It was a thrilling sight, particularly for my equestrian nieces.
We sat on the deck after dinner, sipping coffee or wine or pop, just like we did in Nags Head. But the splashes we heard came from the pool, and the evening light beamed from the Fresnel lens of the Currituck Beach Lighthouse.
Did we miss the ocean view? Yes. But from the gales of laughter and the tales of bike rides and beach walks, losing the ocean view is a fair trade for gathering the family in one place.
And yes, we are going back to "Family Ties" this summer, with a new tradition. I will be sleeping on the roof -- my punishment for telling everyone about Corolla.