Turning of the Tide: Carolina Beach, North Carolina

A long-tailed skipper nearly escapes the shutter, Carolina Beach State Park

 September 30-October 2

I think I already knew I was heading into a crisis as I pulled out of my sister's driveway in Hopewell and headed south. There are no good or bad decisions, only the ones we make, and we will never know the alternatives unless we find a portal into alternate realities. I knew the circumstances supporting the funding of my trip had changed---I had known that for a few weeks--but just the day before heading down that driveway, I knew unquestionably that there would be consequences to my itinerary. I left the haven in the woods for Assateague excited, eager, optimistic, stubborn, and terrified.

I crossed out of the magic of Ocracoke Island on a 2 1/2 hour ferry ride to Cedar Island. I found myself at a bit of a loss for a campsite that night and ended up in the Croatan National Forest a swamp near the Neuse River, where I was able to buy a night amongst the mosquitoes for $8. Croatan, with its buzzing hoards and toothless camp host, thus became the exception that proved my rule that campsite quality was inversely proportionate to price. I popped up Pagoo, closed all windows tight, locked my doors and dreamed of showering in DEET. Under it all chirped a persistent voice, reminding me that there were matters that I could no longer overlook.

Swamps are lovely. Just not that night.

Not tempted to stay a second night, the next morning was spent researching my next destination. I had intended to reach Carolina Beach the day before, but was late to the ferry and was headlong into sundown while still many miles from there. This process acquainted me with an interesting bit of campground drama. There are 2 campgrounds with Carolina Beach in their name: Carolina Beach State Park and the Carolina Beach Family Campground. I believe there is considerable confusion among campers looking for a site, confusion that may benefit the private family campground in the short term at least. Not surprisingly, I avoid any campground with the word "family" in the name, but did give them the benefit of the doubt and read their Google reviews. The battle between one (?) reviewer and the management is fine, entertaining reading.

Carolina Beach State Park, photo NC Parks and recreation

Harry and I opted instead for the State Park site, with promises of carnivorous plant bogs, boardwalk trails along the Cape Fear River and a second chance with the elusive gulf fritillary. We chose wisely.

Native pitcher plants, Serracenia flava

On the park's Flytrap trail, we spotted unique plants and animals of the pocosin (swamps). By now, I had swapped my herbal insect repellent for a heavy duty formula so, while guilty of slathering myself with N,N-Diethyl-meta-toluamide (otherwise known as DEET) I was able to keep my remaining blood volume and hike in peace. I found a patch of pitcher plants, but never found the tiny Venus flytrap. When talking with a ranger the following day, I found that the flytraps in the park had nearly been decimated by poachers recently. Crimes against nature are not limited to the large and charismatic.

The Carnivorous blueflower butterwort, Pinguicula caerulea

Flaxleaf Gerardia, Agalinus linifolia

 I also caught up with the gulf fritillary, but the best photo I could get was of the underwing. While lovely, this is not the best side of this spectacular butterfly. I was pleasantly surprised to meet a blue-green gossamer trailing long-tailed skipper, which became my new favorite butterfly. So awestuck was I by this beauty at trailside, I fumbled my camera until it flew, capturing the trailing train of green just before it zipped out of frame. Though the photo (seen at the head of this post) was a mistake, it has proven to be one of my favorites of the trip and, if you look at my iNat observation, contained all the information necessary to have my ID confirmed by a butterfly expert. There can be grace in the unexpected.

Here is Hugh Christy's more conventional photo
 of a long-tailed skipper, Urbanus proteus

The gulf fritillary, Agraulis vanillae. Look here

for a picture of the dorsum.

The walks calmed the anxiety monkey a bit---I had taken to visualizing my worry affliction as a rambunctious spider monkey, all grabbing arms, legs and tail, biting and pulling my hair, and hiding nasty things in secret places for my discovery late at night. If I tell you that I have named him Ziggy, I know at least one reader who will understand, and giggle. The pocosin was charming, but I had a decision to make.

I choose not to explain the specifics of how the finances of the road trip shifted, what is relevant to the story is that what had been expected was no longer to be and I had to come to terms with that. I had to decide whether to keep going on a wing and a prayer, hunker down and ride it out, or make for refuge. I spent three days in Carolina Beach working it out. There I found respite in a quiet campsite in the hickories and pines and a local coffee shop where I could research options on the web. If I say I was completely calm and resolute, I would not be honest. I had moments of panic (with Ziggy waving me in) and bouts (mostly at 2:00 in the morning) of despair. By the morning of October 2 I had decided. There are no good or bad decisions, only the ones that we make.