Day 7: Cape Lookout Lighthouse

Keith and I were awakened in the middle of the night by a loud, steady vibration coming from somewhere under the bathroom on the boat. We spent about 30 minutes searching for the source, opening cabinets, checking pumps and daring to flip switches that we were fairly certain wouldn't prompt an electrical system failure -- all to no avail. It took us a while to get back to sleep with that rattle echoing through the entire boat.

By the time we woke up in the morning, the noise was gone. The kids complained that they hadn't slept well, either. Charlie said he had been awakened by the noise, and that he had heard us moving around and talking about how the boat was going to blow up.

And it is here that I have to admit that I haven't been entirely relaxed on this boat. There are all these power systems and buttons and switches -- and gurgles and rattles and hums and vibrations -- and I know nothing about them, and it makes me feel helpless, unsettled and panicky. My maternal worst-case-scenario instinct kicks in, and I start to really flip out. Are we supposed to rock like that when the wind changes? What if the anchors don't hold? What if the skiff floats away? What if we start taking on water? What if I accidentally push that button and the whole boat goes up in flames? It didn't help that Captain Perry had pointed out that we are completely incompetent when it comes to boating before he had us dropped off here. Perry doesn't have much confidence in our seafaring abilities, and now neither do I.

So when Charlie said that he heard us moving around in the middle of the night talking about how the boat was going to blow up, it is not a stretch to say that I was the one bellowing on about that at 3:30 in the morning, convinced that we were being kept awake by the sound of a pump that was steadily increasing pressure in some holding tank, and that in just a few minutes it was all going to blow. That all sounds ridiculous as I type it right now, but, I mean, it was 3:30. And things seem extra weird and heightened in the dark.

Clearly, we all survived. And so, on the agenda for the day was a trip in the skiff to the neighboring island of Core Banks to visit the Cape Lookout Lighthouse. And again, I got all jumpy and overwrought, because this wasn't just a trip down the beach. It involved reading a chart that Manly had left us, criss-crossing the sound, which is practically the wide open water of the ocean, following the channel markers and avoiding the shoals, which have claimed the lives of untold numbers of sailors, I'm telling you. My poor family, having to put up with this. And poor Keith, especially.

So we loaded up the skiff and set out, reading the chart and following the markers the way Manly told us to. Except we turned toward Core Banks a little too soon, and we got a little confused by all the shallow water and the underwater marshes that seemed to lurk just ahead, and of course I got a little flustered. At one point, we saw figures in the distance -- we thought they were boats -- and  we headed that way, and as we got closer we saw that they were wild horses grazing on marsh grasses in the middle of a sand bar. They must get stuck there during high tide.



We eventually found the channel markers that directed us right in to the beach in front of the Cape Lookout Lighthouse. We anchored the boat, checked out the small museum set up in the old light keeper's house, then picnicked on the beach and played in the water until it was time to go.



On the way back, we lost our markers again, and cutting across the choppy water of the sound, I had a couple of small heart attacks and then barked at the kids to fasten their life vests. Like I said: My poor family. I try to be their rock, but sometimes get a little flipped out on them. It's not pretty.



Of course, we made it back to the houseboat, and we spent the rest of the afternoon lounging on the deck and combing the beach, where the kids found about 15 hermit crabs. I am now considerably more relaxed and confident, having conquered Back Sound in the skiff. Keith took a swim, ventured under the boat, and discovered what he believes was the source of the middle-of-the-night rattle: a length of tubing hanging out from under the bathroom that was flapping against the pontoon in the current. He tucked it underneath a secure pipe, and hopefully that solves the problem!

A few of the wild horses of Shackleford Banks ambled along the beach this morning, right past our boat.

After dinner tonight, we had more s'mores on the beach and played more boardgames 'til bedtime. What a wonderful day in the sun!