This was one of those rare moments with our summer calendar. Everyone in our family had the week of July 11-18 open. That meant we would be traveling to Surf City on Topsail Island.
Having grown up in Burlington, I remember as a kid traveling to the North Carolina Coast. Carolina Beach, Long Beach(now Oak Island) and Bogue Sound were visited.
Life was a lot simpler then. Ocean frontage and quiet sound vistas had not been fully developed.
After college, in 1975, I moved to Virginia. Yet after all these years, the North Carolina coast still pulls at my heart.
While my family and I haven’t explored every beach town on this coastline, I have determined that from the state lines of Virginia to South Carolina, the North Carolina coast is something unique, uncommon, a place worthy of our continuing respect.
More than anything, I respect the coastline’s endurance.
Somehow, no matter what mother nature and human beings cast upon this fragile shell, the land and water hang on.
At times, that might mean hanging on like washed out sea oats and on storm battered dunes. Regardless of that pounding, these barrier islands, narrow ribbons of sand survive.
Deep inside our souls, we know these barrier islands should not have carried the burden of being developed. But, we couldn’t resist. As much as I despise the journey down I-95 from Richmond, I can’t refuse an escape to your coast.
For this trek, we survived I-95, and the multiple state highways that lead us to the Surf City Bridge on a busy Saturday afternoon. Sunday morning, I took a run over the bridge.
From that view, I could see the wide Intracoastal Waterway and the nooks and crannies of the marshlands. Those marshlands are such a critical part of preserving the tidal ecosystems.
Walking on the beach, I admired the preservation of a turtle’s nest. I appreciate the time and dedication of the volunteers from the Topsail Turtle Project who monitor these sites.
One day, I chatted with a life guard about his work. A community college student, he described his training and the challenges he and his peers face. Keeping an eye on the public with the whims of the ocean is no easy task.
From our rental, we had a short walk into the heart of Surf City. One afternoon, our grandkids enjoyed a visit to the Topsail Aquarium. Even in a small space, there was lots for our grandkids to see, touch, and learn.
That same afternoon, I had the opportunity to learn from a loyal employee at a gift store that is connected to the IGA grocery store.
Thirty two years ago, the gift shop employee and her husband moved to Topsail. We talked about how the island had changed.
She recalled quiet early mornings at their home. Sipping her first cup of coffee, she watched deer in a small forest of trees.
Those deer are gone, along with the trees, replaced by housing. She lamented, “they call that progress.”
I understand her sentiment. It seems like every square inch of the south side of the island has been developed.
And that is why I respect when communities preserve a piece of land for a park. The boardwalk at the Kenneth D. Batts Park is perfect for taking in the tidal salt marsh, and its made even better when your grandson catches a fish from the pier at the end.
At 73, I have no idea how many more trips to this stunning coast I’ll be able to make.
But, I’m really not thinking about me.
It’s about our grandkids.
I hope North Carolina will cherish, respect, and protect this treasured coastline.
That way our grandkids, and maybe their children can watch the sun rise over the Atlantic, chase minnows in tidal pools, and daydream as pelicans gracefully glide over the crest of a wave.
North Carolina don’t let them down.
