I still felt the tension sitting where it always does–wrapped tightly in my shoulders. I was really looking forward to the time off and hoped to photograph black bears and red wolves. I had made good time as I pulled onto the Outer Banks and looked forward to getting away into the wild, but I was finding that even during the offseason, Nags Head and the surrounding area was still pretty congested. I was glad that I had booked a massage for the afternoon and after some of those knots in my shoulders were broken down, I jumped back into my car and headed towards by abode for the next several nights – Atlantic Street Inn on Nags Head. My accommodations were incredible! The bedroom held a nice queen-sized bed with a private bath. A separate sitting area held a sofa, chair and coffee table that brought a little extra space and comfort to the stay and I had easy access to a fully equipped kitchen. I choose to go out for dinner, then settled in for an early night.
Daylight always seems to break early and as the light started seeping through the window coverings, I slid out of bed and headed for the kitchen. It was my first day and I had decided that I wasn’t going to rush for anything. I slowly got ready for my adventure in the wildlife refuge, packed the car, and headed out. Feeling not very rested and a little irritable (my neighbors at the Inn were up late and loud), negative thoughts were running through my head. I was annoyed by the amount of traffic I encountered and how overly developed the area was. How many cheap T-shirt shops do you need? I wasn’t really prepared for this, but I kept my eyes looking forward and made my way to Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge (ARNWR). I arrived and started making my way through the property. Since ARNWR is the site of the largest population of black bears east of the Mississippi, I felt pretty certain that I would drive along, stop at various points, look around with my binoculars, and would have no problem finding these beautiful beasts. It wouldn’t take long to see that I wasn’t going to be the only tourist out there hoping to catch a glimpse of the bears.
The 152,000-acre refuge is located along the Atlantic Coast in eastern North Carolina. A number of dirt & gravel roads cut through, intertwined, and wrapped around the property and I tried to cover as much of the property as I could. Even as unpopulated as the local area was, I would see a number of cars cruising around the refuge, some at a pretty quick pace. I didn’t think this would bode well for wildlife viewing but consoled myself by thinking how cool it was that others were also amazed at the idea that they might see a creature in the wild, one that few others may ever get the chance to see. I zigzagged through the property, stopping at certain vantage points to get out and look around with my biners. On one particular road, I came around a bend and saw an image waiting to be captured. I pulled over, took the shot, then got back in my car. My windows were still down and I slowly drove forward, then I heard some loud thrashing and crackling in the woods on the other side of the canal. I thought it could be only one thing–a black bear!
I slowly turned the corner, pulled ahead and looked for a place to pull over. I stopped, grabbed my binoculars and camera, then got out of the car and headed back to the place where I heard the sound. The dirt road was just wide enough for two cars to pass if one car pulled off to the side. I raised my binoculars and looked up and down the road, scanned the length of the canal, and where I suspected the bear might be wandering. I waited and watched. I walked a little further, stopped and looked around. After a few minutes, seeing and hearing nothing, I headed back to the car. I thought to myself that this wasn’t a bad place to grab some water, food, and sit for a while. The wind was blowing steady and the sun was dancing in and out of the clouds, so I added another layer of clothing and my ‘Windstopper’ hat. I was pretty well stocked for the trip and to be outdoors. I pulled out my folding chair and table, then sat down for a bite to eat. It was a beautiful day! As I sat there eating lunch, I felt like I was the only person on the refuge–the only sound I could hear was the wind blowing through the trees. I sat there and took in the sun. It was a peaceful moment and distant memories floated to the surface.
One memory that surfaced was the first time I had meditated. I was in my early 30s and living in Savannah, Georgia. With my body still and I’m trying to quiet my mind, I felt tears well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I was unfamiliar with the stillness and at that time in my life, I was turning down a new path. I had long operated under the belief that men didn’t cry. I had held back the feelings and the tears for many years and I finally came to the point where I could no longer hold them back. It would be very cleansing. That was many years ago and I’m still on my journey with meditation.
Another memory that I was reminded of was when I took a trip to Rocky Mountain National Park. At one point in my trip, I was on Trail Ridge Road and had pulled over on to one of the parking areas, Toll Memorial Trail, named after a former park superintendent. I got out of my car and walked up a long walkway that led up onto this open tundra. I was amazed as I looked all around me at the rocky peaks, many that still had snow on top of them. I continued to walk ahead and that’s when I started to see them: Marmots! They popped up and scurried all over, one chasing another, then diving down where they couldn’t be seen. They were so amazing! It was the height of summer tourist season, yet for about 15 minutes I found myself in this otherworldly landscape all by myself. I looked around with an almost a 360-degree view of the mountains around me. The seconds seemed to last forever and I felt a peace that washed over me. And then there was the silence. Only the wind could be heard. It was an experience I’ll never forget. And being out in ARNWR on that January day, I felt like I was right back there in that mountain terrain. I finished my snack, climbed back into the car, then headed back on the road I came from.
The afternoon sun was fading when I came upon the canoe launch. It was later than I intended, but after thinking through some plans for the next several days, I decided to hit the water. I pulled into the dirt parking area and got myself ready to launch. I had all the gear I need for a winter paddle–knee-high neoprene boots, warmth & wind layers for top & bottom and extra gear just in case I went into the water. I was ready! The paddle wouldn’t be a long one, but that didn’t matter. Aside from getting a massage, nothing really could take the kinks out of my body, and my mind, like getting on the water. I put my boat in the water, climbed in, and slowly paddled down the stream. After a couple of twists and turns, I saw another paddler heading towards me. We exchanged pleasantries and each headed on our way. The sun was quickly setting and I decided to turn around. In the way of wildlife, I didn’t really see much on this brief outing, but I have never regretted going on a paddling excursion. I paddled up to the canoe launch and climbed out of my boat. After topping the canoe on top of my car, I stowed away my gear and changed back into driving clothes.
The last light of the day was quickly slipping away and I looked at my maps to chart a course out of the refuge and put me on the path back to Nags Head. I turned the car around and started heading out. One dirt road looks like the next and I had found myself at a stop sign. Right or left? I looked at the map again and looked inside myself. I was disappointed that I hadn’t seen the critters I came searching for. A car came up behind me and I motioned them around. They turned right, so I turned left, holding out in hope for one last chance. Dusk had fallen upon the wetlands and as I slowly drove forward, I followed the bend in the road. As I turned the corner, I was amazed to see the last light of a sun spilling over the horizon’s edge, casting yellow, orange, and pink just over the treetops. The sky, a light blue, faded into a darker hue and the last light slipping away, leaving clouds a dark shade of gray. The stillness of nightfall had come, but the days last sound was of Tundra Swans bidding all a goodnight.
