View from the Mountain

Fall Belongs To The Southern Coast

I have done some serious thinking about this since I suspect that even I at one time believed that fall was the season of New England, Canada's Maritimes or perhaps the Appalachian Mountains.  Certainly having written long ago that spring belongs to the South and even suggesting that Canadians visit North Carolina or Virginia in the spring, it might seem logical to give fall to the North.

Like lots of things, there is plenty of room for debate on this subject.  Fall is a great season in the North mostly because it is very showy with gorgeous leaves, pumpkins, and lots of apple cider.  But as many northerners will admit fall is nice mostly because it is a whole lot better than what follows.  Winter is not much fun in the North if you are in charge of snow removal on your homestead.  If the out of doors is your favorite spot, you can only love winter if you are addicted to cross-country skiing and snowshoes. Folks who love winter are few and far between.

Fall also brings the end of most gardening up North.  Fall was actually a very hectic time where we lived north of Fredericton, New Brunswick.  You are in a race to get everything done before snow covers the ground and whatever you have forgotten to pick up during the summer.  You actually end up working so hard that when the first snow comes that it often brings a sense of relief because you have done all that you can to prepare for winter.  I can remember snow coming at our Tay Creek farm at the end of October and not leaving until the beginning of May.  There were far more things that needed to get done in the fall than were possible. 

While my perspective might be colored by living on the farm, we did have a couple years in Maryland and a couple of decades on a mountain in Southwestern Virginia.  There is no arguing how beautiful the leaves are in the mountains.  It is a wonderful sight for three or four weeks. If you are lucky you can follow the fall as it unfolds and as the leaves change.  I can also remember the wonderful apples, apple cider, and late fall vegetables from Jamison's Orchard and Produce near our former Roanoke, Virginia home.

Still, I believe fall was not a relaxing time even in the Roanoke Valley. It is back to school and back to work time.  The shadows of the mountains accelerate the shortness of the daylight hours while at the same time, you still have to deal with the pesky but gorgeous bluegrass and fescue yards of the area.  Sometimes I was still mowing our Roanoke yard the second week in December. Halloween was sometimes so cold that it was not very much fun.

Contrast the above with the coast of North Carolina.  As fall comes, things quiet down here on the coast.  We know that our weather is going to get better.  In fact, our great weather often extends all the way through December when it is not unusual to have shorts weather.  While most areas are getting busier during the fall as people go back to work, we are actually winding down and getting more peaceful.

On top of that, we are beginning our wonderful fall gardening season as we finish harvesting things from the summer.  I remember one year when one of the local produce vendors had ripe watermelons and pumpkins in adjoining fields.  We already have our early winter garden of lettuce, peas, beans, tomatoes, and rutabaga in the ground. Now we are just watching it grow.  Our centipede yards will need at most two more mowings before they go dormant until next April.

Then there is the fishing and the beach.  Fishing is usually at its peak in the fall and there is no better time to walk on the area beaches.  The air has less humidity, the temperatures are nearly perfect, and the water is still warm.  While we will not have the gorgeous leaves of the mountains, plenty of their apples will get shipped in and we will have sunsets that take your breath away.

There are fall festivals galore from Swansboro's Mullet Festival and New Bern's Mum Fest to the North Carolina Muscadine Festival in Kenansville.  We even get church lobster dinners in the fall.

While our fall weather might seem like summer in October, it offers us an opportunity to relax and really enjoy our area during the fall.  I absolutely love walking in the area as the air starts to cool down.  Just as you might think you will need a jacket, the wind will blow across the water and wrap you in warmth.

So that is my case that fall is actually the season for the South instead of the North.  I have enjoyed both, but I know in my heart that fall is a much more leisurely season here on the Crystal Coast.  While we will have our ups and down with the weather, we will not be worried about frost for a long time and our sunsets will take care of that longing for fall colors.  After all, if we need to see some leaves, it does not take but a few hours to ride up to the mountains.

If you decide to visit the beach in the fall, you can start with my free online travel guide to the area.

 

Living The Dream

Raymond's Gut Near Our Home

We all have dreams and sometimes if you are lucky enough you get to live one.  In the summer of 2003, my wife and I celebrated our 30th anniversary by taking a trip to Beaufort, North Carolina. 

It was great to get away with Glenda and visit such a special place. That trip planted a seed that eventually blossomed into the hope that we might one day be able to live on the coast.

We were not sure where we wanted to live and had never really looked at coastal towns as anything other than vacation destinations.  We started taking short trips and trying to imagine ourselves living in some of our favorite beach areas.  We went as far north as Chincoteague, Virginia, and as far south as Southport, North Carolina.

We also visited places in beween like Virginia Beach, Nags Head, Hatteras and Ocracoke Island. We even tried a mountain destination, West Jefferson, North Carolina, just to make sure we were hooked on the coast. We kept coming back to North Carolina's Southern Outer Banks.  I have a long history with the area and it just felt like home.

Finding a spot on the water proved a challenge back in the days of the real estate bubble when the whole world seemed to trying to move to the coast.  We finally admitted to ourselves that we could not afford waterfront property in the Beaufort area and ended up living just off the White Oak River not far from both Emerald Isle and Swansboro.

While I would love to see a stronger economy in the area, living in Carteret County has been even better than I imagined.  In a certain respect it seems like our life was a journey that was destined to bring us here. I grew up in North Carolina, went away to McCallie, a military high school in Tennessee, and then kept going north with a stop in Cambridge for college.  Canada beckoned after college and we eventually spent ten years on the farm before getting sucked into the whirlwind of Apple.

The changes that I have found in Carteret County after growing up in North Carolina and making such a long journey to get back to where I fished in the summer of 1969 inspired me to write a short book, The Road To My Country. Before settling in Carteret County we looked at places which were not nearly as friendly.

We have found a great church, Cape Carteret Presbyterian, and a nice neighborhood in which to live.  We are close to modern services which are spread from Morehead City to Cape Carteret and Swansboro.  We have made some good friends and there are enough good restaurants to keep us happy.

More importantly I have been able to fulfill my dream of being able to slip my kayak in the water and go fishing just about any time that I want.  I still work in technology but fishing is something I try to make time to do.  My kayak and skiff are just a few steps behind the house.  With the water almost at our doorstep, I no longer have to put my kayak on top of the car to go kayaking. It is a wonderful treat to just go fishing without a lot of planning.

Fishing the Southern Outer Banks requires some dedication but the rewards are great when you do land a nice sized fish the red drum we often catch in the White Oak. When I get tired of fishing there is always boating or walking the beaches of the area. One of my favorites spots is the Point at Emerald Isle. It is the same spot I fished in the summer of 1969 with my uncle, Austin Brown.

There are a whole series of special places that I love in Eastern North Carolina.  Areas like Hammocks Beach State Park are treasures that remind us of what the coast was like before it was developed.  Where we live is such a special spot that I felt compelled to share the secrets that I have learned in a travel guide for the area, A Week At The Beach - The Emerald Isle Travel Guide. It is available both in paperback and Kindle format. Details about the book and life on here in Carteret County are available on my Crystal Coast Life homepage.

I cannot think of a nicer place to live than where we currently have our home. We are surrounded by the Croatan National Forest and the waters of the White Oak River. Bogue Banks protects us from storms and Cape Lookout National Seashore is an easy forty-five minute drive. 

With Nags Head under three and one half hours away, the Intracoastal Waterway just ten minutes from my dock, and the Atlantic Ocean just another ten beyond that, I think that my priorities are in order.  The nearest Target or SAMs Club are thirty-five minutes away.  That is actually a little too close for my taste.

On Wednesday of this week we fished in rough water out beyond the Point in our skiff, but I also managed a couple of wonderful kayak trips including one on Friday, August 30, when I missed a nice drum on the oysters rocks.  I will probably head back out and look for him again today. It only takes me fifteen minutes to paddle there.

It has just been a little over a year since we finally sold our other home and were able to bid adieu to Roanoke, Virginia, where we lived for over twenty years after coming back from Canada. That makes it even easier to think of the Crystal Coast as home. How hard is it to love a place where summer hangs on well into the fall?

As far as I am concerned a life by Raymond's Gut is living my dream.  Seven years after moving here I think I am part of the dream.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sometimes The Memories Get Sharper

 

Mother And Her Only Trout

If she were still alive, Mother would be 103 years old on August 22, 2013.  Though she died in the spring of 2004, I still feel her presence. I am not sure how I was lucky enough to have both a remarkable mother and an equally remarkable wife.  I suspect they were both cut from that same North Carolina cloth that has produced so many amazing women.

Blanche, my mother, gave everything to raising me and her extended family.  As I watched Glenda with our granddaughter recently, I could not help but notice the infinite patience and the ability to give of one's self that I know my mother also had in abundance.  I know Glenda would choose to buy sandals for her granddaughter before buying shoes for her own feet.  That devotion to others she demonstrates sometimes amazes me almost as much as how she can work herself to exhaustion if given an opportunity.

I think what amazes me most is that spurt of energy that these ladies demonstrate when the day is over for most of us. I can remember my mother just getting up a good head of steam cleaning at nine or ten PM when the rest of us were thinking about bed.  I saw the same thing in Glenda when we had company recently.  Just as everyone was getting tucked into bed, she was straightening up all the clutter from the day while I could barely manage to make the coffee.  I am happy to report that our daughter, Erin, seemed to step in while she was visiting and do the final cleaning of the day so Glenda could spend more of her time with our granddaughter.  Unfortunately I do not think I can step up and replace her.

As I see these ladies working tirelessly I cannot help but think of all the times that my mother took me fishing.  The picture at the top of the post was taken the only time that I can ever remember her actually fishing.  We were at a stocked trout pond in Meadows of Dan, Virginia.  The gentleman in the picture was the owner of the pond and I can remember driving us there. Still I cannot count the times that she took my friend Mike and I fishing before I could drive myself.

We must have worried her to death begging to go fishing.  Yet she would finish a days work, take us fishing, come home, fix some dinner, and then start cleaning for the next day.  She would do it all without any complaints.

I always knew that she worked hard, but only as I have worked alongside Glenda over the years have I come to appreciate the many things that get done in a household without most folks noticing.  Those clean towels that appear magically after I have had the third shower during the day do not get washed and dried by the laundry fairy.

Then as Glenda and I worked together to feed and entertain a house full of people during the last ten days, it amazes me to look back at how my mother managed to accomplish the same thing when she was well into her eighties.

All those times when we came home while raising our own family, we could forget about meals and clean towels during our visits.  Having even a few less things to worry about while at home with your parents is a treat that I miss a lot.

As I try to scroll back through my memories to savor all those visits, I wonder if we will be able to do the same thing for our children twenty years from now.  Mother stayed healthy by working in her gardens for years.  My gardens are smaller, but maybe if I do a few miles with the kayak each week and Glenda keeps up her activities, we can stay active enough to host "our children" when we are in our eighties.

Based on the recovery time for this last visit with our granddaughter, I am guessing if we age another twenty years, we would only be able to take visitors about once every three or four months.

 

A Life with Meaning

There comes a time in most people's lives when if they are lucky, they try to do what they want to do instead of what they have to do.

Often for people today doing what they want to do might not be playing golf everyday, it might be working at a job they enjoy instead of one they dread each morning. It also might mean working at a job that pays less but allows them to live somewhere that they love.

Maybe they are willing to give up vacations and fancy meals out to be near family or in place where family and friends love to visit.

Nearly ten years ago I got to the point that I was tired of living in a world where the older you are, the less-likely it is that people take you seriously.  In many large high tech companies, if you are over fifty-five, no matter how good you are at your job, there is a perception that it is impossible for you to stay on top of the technology.

I know a number of older people who care nothing for computers, but I also know some very technologically literate older people.  However, those of us old folks who live and breath technology are not going to change the minds of the young who already know everything.  My solution ten years ago was to move on to a new career or perhaps more realistically a new portfolio of jobs. I have never looked back and certainly do not regret the decision.

While it took some time, I found a smaller tech company with senior leadership that respects my abilities.  I also write books, take pictures, and sometimes do other freelance jobs.  I have chosen to do all of these things in an area, North Carolina's Crystal Coast, that nourishes my spirit.

I love the water and live to be out on it. there are few if any places with more choice as to how to enjoy the water. As I continue to work hard, I have made a conscious effort to do my job in a way that lets me enjoy where I live and the people around me.

My wife of over forty years continues to be a source of great support and a terrific editor for my writing.  Her proofing skills are valued in our high tech company and she does a wonderful job on the books that we jointly publish.  Two heads are always better than one in my book.

None of us are ever completely in charge of our lives, but in those areas where I have a choice, I have chosen those things that make me the happiest not the wealthiest.

My job as a sales and marketing vice president does not involve a lot of stress, significant travel, or a lot of reinventing the wheel which I found to be necessary when working with young start ups.  While the money will not be what it was at Apple, this current job is unlikely to kill me with stress.  I am pleased to have chosen another road and that I have a CEO who does not mind me taking the occasional fishing afternoon.

On top of enjoying our lives here, there is plenty of time for family.  I get to enjoy my granddaughter, our children, and our extended family and friends.  Watching my children master the challenges of life and learn how to be good to others in their lives is a much worthier goal that obsessing over how high Apple's stock price will go.

There are afternoons here on the Southern Outer Banks where my office is either my skiff when I am fishing or my kayak when I am kayaking.  Sometimes I am standing in the surf fishing when I get a phone call.  It is not very hard to lose the stress, or tell someone you will get back to them later when a soft wind is blowing in your face, the warm Carolina sun is on your back, and a fish is pulling on the end of your line.

Life is too short to be miserable. I would rather smile a little more, drive an older vehicle, and no worry about quarterly reports.  My life certainly isn't worry free, but it is free of the kind of stress that comes from working in a technology company that is also a snake-pit of employees trying to out maneuver each other to the top.

When I stand on my dock each morning and survey Raymond's Gut which leads out to the White Oak River, I don't have to worry about irritating Steve Jobs or one of his empty suit vice presidents.  I can stand on the dock and know that I have treated everyone like I would like to be treated. Once you have reached that point, it is pretty easy to let the cards fall where they may.

If things get tough, a walk along the beach or a ride down the river will usually cure it.  If enjoying life can be considered a benefit, I have all the benefits that I need, and I never have trouble falling asleep at night.

Come for a visit and enjoy our area's magic.  I can recommend a nice free online travel guide to help you get started with your planning.

 

 

The evolution of a fisherman

The society of fishermen (and women who fish) is far more open minded that your average grouping of political idiots.  In politics, the mobility between conservative and liberal groups is almost non-existent.

It would fair to say that without some extraordinary circumstance once you are born a conservative the chances of becoming a liberal are very slim unless you get whacked on the head with a police billy club.  Likewise most liberals would only become conservatives if they could win the lottery.

Fisherman really do not care about your history, they care about what you are catching today and how you are doing it. Everything beyond that is pretty much irrelevant unless you are trapped inside a house in a blizzard and have no entertainment beyond the stories you can spin.

Actually you can be a worm dunker one day, and a dry fly fisherman the next day.  No one will care except the worms.

Fortunately I was born into a Presbyterian family which if you have seen the movie, A River Runs Through It, means I should be a dry fly fisherman.  Actually I fished with a fly rod before I was even a teenager, but I avoid the purity of only one type of angling.

I came from a long line of worm dunkers on my mother's side.  No only did they dunk worms, they also dunked shrimp and fished along the North Carolina coast for whatever was biting.

When it comes to fishing, I will try almost any method which probably explains why I have so many fishing rods.

There is a certain point in your fishing life when catching fish is not nearly as important as catching certain fish by a particular means.

While most sports seek out ways to be more productive, fishermen often seek out ways which are more difficult and which result in fewer fish being caught.

I am blessed to be living on the NC coast in what is close to fishing heaven.  I can catch significant fish just a couple of minutes from the dock behind my home especially if I am using shrimp or live bait.

However, you can get tired of catching croakers and other bottom feeders, and it is natural to seek other challenges.  My latest quest was to catch a bluefish from the surf on a light spinning rod using an artificial lure.  It is not an impossible task, I have actually done it before.

I have caught bluefish far more often from a boat than from the surf.  If you get a shiny lure in front of feeding bluefish, you will usually catch something. So catching one is not a huge challenge.  However, if you give yourself a short time window, then the challenge becomes a little more fun.

Tonight we left our home on the banks of the White Oak for a 15-20 minute drive to one of my favorite beaches.  I like it because there are rarely people there this time of year, and I have caught fish there before.

This evening we got there a little after seven PM and stayed for around thirty minutes.  That was all the time I had allotted myself to catch a bluefish.

It was a great evening to be on the beach.   In fact when we headed home around eight PM, the temperature was still 80F.

Anyway I started my fishing with a Gotcha plug.  I probably fished with it for the first fifteen minutes with no luck.  Then I switched to a gold spoon.  The sun was starting to drop quickly, and I had been watching a number of jumping fish just out of the range of my casts.  I was hoping the light from the dropping sun might make my lure more attractive.

It was the third cast with the gold spoon when I got a solid hit.  My next cast there was nothing, but on the following cast I hooked a bluefish but it quickly threw the hook.  One more throw, and I had another hit and was solidly onto a nice bluefish.  It did not take long to bring him to shore.  He was about sixteen inches long.

I quickly heaved him back into the surf and told my wife that I was done.  She could not believe that I did not want to fish more, but I had accomplished what I wanted to do and the feeling was good.

I was actually using a very light, long spinning rod which was purchased more with the soft mouths of trout in mind than bluefish.  Of course that added a little to the challenge.

Now the question is should I go back tonight with the goal of catch a bigger bluefish?