Christmas in July

Some are more vocal than others.

The beach here in our neighborhood is quite crowded this week, filled with folks who ordinarily hit the four-wheel drive beaches. We would be among them if the Point was open. But, alas, it's not. So we're not even going to bother with the National Park Service permit. I'm sure we can find something else to do with the $50 we'd have forked over. 


There is a low rumble of anger here from folks who have driven for generations out to the beaches to fish from dawn to dusk or just relax and play for the day on some of the most gorgeous shore line in the country. I can understand the resentment, quite honestly. These people have been free to do this forever. And as long as we've joined them, we've never seen irresponsible driving or littering or disturbing the sea life or nests. I don't honestly know what the science research says. I'm just saying I can certainly see the islanders' side of the coin.

Since we've been coming down here, I've been dying to see what's left of the old Ocean Edge Golf Course. I don't know when it shut down, but   the ruins of it just fascinate me. 

So yesterday we pulled over and trespassed. Yes, we trespassed! It was thrilling! And so worth it. 

Up at the top of the ramp (marked with "No Skateboarding" "No Biking" signs) we saw a rusted pile of golf carts and hundreds and hundreds of flattened beer cans. Beyond that we saw the shadow of the old course. Here's looking straight ahead toward the dunes and ocean.

Here's a view to the right.

And a view to the left. 

The whole place was not quite eerie, but it wasn't exactly country-club either. It was sad, really. Too much was left to the imagination to hear the ghosts of golfers, the gentle hum of their carts. I was satisfied to have seen beyond that ramp, though. Nothing like being where you're not supposed to be to inject a little excitement in your day.

Back on the beach, we were entertained by the Hatteras Village People. This group of people were in a circle doing jumping jacks and push ups yesterday. Today it was a lovely choreographed dance routine.

They don't seem to mind that people stare at them. 
Still, I sneaked these pictures. I didn't want to be rude, even as I plaster them on facebook and this very widely circulated blog.

The lady with the bikini and white hat appeared to be in charge. 

I cannot wait to see what entertainment they have for the island tomorrow.

And finally, one last oddity of Hatteras Village - the ice cream truck plays Christmas tunes. Silent Night. Hark the Herald Angels Sing. Jingle Bells. Christmas in July here on the southern Outer Banks.