It was the Mount Everest of sand dunes, the tallest natural dune on the eastern coast of the United States; and like so many others who had come before us we were determined to reach the summit of Jockey Ridge.
Yep, this is the ridge on which we'd set our sights.
Granted, this was no Sahara Desert (on my wish-list); this was the Outer Banks of North Carolina, specifically Bodie Island and one really BIG dune (426 acres of sand) otherwise known as a medano – a massive, asymmetrical, shifting hill of sand – which had literally inched its way across the inlet formed by this beautiful barrier island chain (remnants of the last Ice Age) with every storm tide and maritime wind over the last seven thousand years.
120 miles of beautiful sun, surf and sand.
No storm tides fortunately, the day of our climb, just a maritime wind, courtesy of the ever-present Atlantic Ocean a quarter mile to the east that kept the mid-afternoon sun from feeling oppressive on a beautiful day earlier this week.
This is the draw, in every shade of blue, when it comes to Carolina's Outer Banks.
We arrived at the foot of Jockey Ridge (legend suggests the name derives from the Outer “Bankers” practice of capturing and racing Spanish mustangs salvaged from the wreckage of explorers ships offshore; the ridge was the perfect spot for spectators to view the races at the food of the hill) via a 384-foot boardwalk,
An invitation we couldn't refuse.
ready to best this sandy beast, a beast that looked more molehill than mountain.
Just remember, looks can be very deceiving.
BRING IT ON!
A walk in the park; Jockey Ridge State Park.
What is IT about mountains/molehills/sand dunes that so challenges man (and woman) to seek that summit?
There was no time to consider an answer in the thick of things; walking on sand requires approximately two times more energy than does walking on a hard surface, which is to say it felt like I was lugging ten pound weights on each ankle during my uphill trek.
There was no time to consider an answer in the thick of things; walking on sand requires approximately two times more energy than does walking on a hard surface, which is to say it felt like I was lugging ten pound weights on each ankle during my uphill trek.
There are butt dials, and then there are butt shots. I'm in trouble!
Things got pretty thick as we literally dug in our heels and navigated up an incline of 33 degrees, at least according to the physics of naturally occurring sand dunes.
Just when I thought the mechanics of locomotion and one shifty mountain of a molehill might just get the best of me, we crested the ridge.
This is IT, I mused as the majesty and grace of this natural wonder beckoned.
Just when I thought the mechanics of locomotion and one shifty mountain of a molehill might just get the best of me, we crested the ridge.
This is IT, I mused as the majesty and grace of this natural wonder beckoned.
We're really just a grain of sand in this vast universe we call home.
And speaking of grace, student hang-gliders on a nearby ridge stood poised for those first few liberating moments of flight, undoubtedly sharing the dream of brothers Orville and Wilbur Wright, who just happened to live in the same neighborhood a hundred-plus years ago.
Up, up, and away!
We stopped briefly to pose for pictures (and catch our breath), before resuming our climb. There was no allowance for that slippery slope called second thoughts, despite the shifting sands beneath our feet.
We took five with nephew Daryl and wife Jackie during our historic climb.
Five minutes later, having reached the top of this unique sand castle, we posed for more pictures while debating the merits of a lemonade stand run by some enterprising kid ready to capitalize on being in the right place at the right time. Once we’d reached the summit, our thirst for conquering one molehill of a sandy mountain had been replaced with the more traditional variety, water.
We came, we saw, we conquered with my sister Lucia, her son Daryl, Daryl's dad Durant at ten o'clock and Daryl's Jacky, who snapped the picture. You go, girl!
We commemorated the moment with one last picture of our entire group, family members normally scattered far and wide. It felt good to revel in our accomplishment and the love we shared between us.
Now I know why "Say cheese" is part of the photographic process; 'cause this is so "cheesy."
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