As we trundled s-l-o-w-l-y along the gravel road out of Sedona, leaving the Secret Mountain Wilderness behind, the sky was pregnant with precipitation. This had been forecast, the only real question was whether it would rain or snow. It held off, even brightened up as we headed north towards the Grand Canyon, but we expected no escape. Our priority was to avoid any dangerous driving conditions and get settled in early.

Along the south rim of the Grand Canyon National Park, there’s an unassuming road leading away from the canyon itself. As it turns into a forest service road, it exits the official national park boundary (with no bells, whistles or fee station). And there we have it, just a mile or so from the canyon itself, we were in the Kaibob National Forest and legally able to boondock.

After the crowds at the canyon edge, it was delightfully peaceful in the forest, a void of sound made even more intense by the tiny flakes of snow starting to float gently down around us, oh so gradually blanketing our surroundings in a white hug.

One of those afternoons perfect for slowly braising a stovetop casserole, the BaseCamp filling with delicious aromas as it bubbled merrily on the stove. Meanwhile, a break in the snowfall gave us an opportunity for a quick walk.

After a cozy night in the Basecamp and a slight delay while Darren defrosted the truck windscreen (quite a feat without de-icer!), we made our way back to the main road, destination Grand Viewpoint.

Our first thought was that the global pandemic had turned into a zombie apocalypse. After the mayhem we’d driven past at the rim the day before, this morning was a stark contrast. There was no need to maneuver into a tight parking spot or elbow our way through the crowds. The viewpoint was virtually deserted.

Turns out the main road into the park hadn’t yet been ploughed and was closed off to tourists. All tourists except those who were locked in, that is. Um, that’d be us. 😳

We shared our priceless view of the Grand Canyon at sunrise with just a few other hardened campers (of which one couple had slept in their car – how on earth they hadn’t died in the night, I have no idea).

The contours of the higher-elevation rock accentuated by the freshly fallen snow gave a real sense of perspective, with the more distant canyon layers bathed in the early morning light.

Truly, this was one to remember. The unique confluence of being in the right place at the right time.

With barely a few days of our trip left, we did a quick scouting mission to Zion National Park. Nice overnight camping spot but the park was way too busy for our liking. Much better was the hidden gem of a State Park, Snow Canyon. No snow there but never mind, just been there done that at the Grand Canyon.

Last stop for New Years Eve was boondocking near Lake Mead in Nevada. In an alternate non-global pandemic reality, we could have partied the night away in Vegas. But in 2020, we’ll pass thanks very much.

Which brings our FVCK COVID 2020 Part 2 Roadtrip to an end. Thanks for taking part virtually with us, we had a blast! We may be a few pounds heavier (I blame the donuts) but with 17 states and 8,000 miles under our belt, I can confidently say my US geography is getting better.

Talking of US geography, I happen to know that Hawaii is approximately 2,500 miles away. Just food for thought…..

It’s a long long way… not just to Tipperary but also from Austin Texas to Sedona Arizona. Just a smidgeon short of 1,200 miles actually, so one of those weekends with dawn to dusk driving.

Our route took us due west through Texas, past El Paso (one of the confirmed worst virus-infected places in the whole US – do not stop, do not pass go, do not collect COVID), skirted through New Mexico (which had strict quarantining rules, no stopping there either) and up through Arizona. We did call in at a Walmart en route though to jazz up our home on wheels with some festive lighting and decorations. This was our tree:

It is quite beyond me that somehow when someone was making areas of natural beauty into protected National Parks, they accidentally forgot to include Sedona on the list. Maybe they left it too late as someone else had already plonked a town into the midst of all that red rock loveliness. For our purposes, the town of Sedona worked out well to spend a few days in the run up to Christmas, camping, working and walking.

Bring on Christmas Eve and a big shout out to both our employers who generously gave us the day off, yay. It was time to Get Into Christmas… 🎶

The ceremonious wrapping of presents didn’t take long. There were but two, and with no wrapping paper to hand, I found aluminium* foil did the trick just perfectly.

* Sorry – I accept most US autocorrects. I’m over the zees and zeds and I forgive the loss of u’s where they should be included. But aluminium will forever be aluminium and I will not defer to the monstrosity that is aluminum.

But for Christmas itself, it was time to move on from Sedona town to Sedona middle of nowhereness. No kidding, it’s actually called Secret Mountain Wilderness. Slow going along washboard gravel roads with the Basecamp but if you want to get away from it all, no pain, no gain.

We bagged a remote plateau boondocking spot with a red rock backdrop that belonged on a film set. For us, Christmas perfection. A picture speaks a thousand words, a thousand pictures even more 😆. Peace & solitude, vistas & vortexes, champers & corn hole…

Of course, it wasn’t long before Darren got the drone out.

In case you’re wondering about those aluminium foil-wrapped Christmas presents…

In true Boxing Day style, you gotta work off those Christmas calories right? Off we went up Doe Mountain, for some of the best views around.

Time to up the ante with an off-road experience in a monster truck. We hired THIS:

Christmas Day is probably the only day in the year the pink jeep vortex tours don’t descend on our camping spot at sunset for their “spiritual awakening”. All other days, you can expect this:

Fortunately, they didn’t hang around for long and once again we had the place to ourselves to enjoy the last dying rays of the sun as it transformed our surroundings into a glowing red rock arena.

National Park or no National Park (WTF, it’s not even a National Monument?), Sedona is right up there for me with other NP hard hitters, winning the most underrated destination award. That said, next up, one of the biggest hitters of them all: Grand Canyon National Park.

After literally not seeing a soul from our secluded spot on the Texas Gulf Coast, we were thrust back into the global pandemic reality of Austin, Texas. In normal times, Austin is a thriving metropolis of contemporary hipster living, one of the fastest growing cities in the whole of the US, with breweries, restaurants and food trucks pushing the boundaries of uber-cool.

In 2020, it is not that. True, Elon Musk just announced he’s done with California and is moving his Tesla electric car business to Austin Texas. So up and coming, yes. It WILL be back up there and we WILL be back to enjoy it. But right now it’s December 2020, and with a new more contagious strain of the virus emerging in the UK and the US situation not getting any better, the main reason for us being in a city was to work.

The Impact Hub co-working space in Austin was busier than any other we’d been in, although still spacious, airy and actually not that busy at all compared to a normal office.

With Texas being one of the more liberal states, indoor bar and restaurant dining was generally still open, albeit with reduced capacity, masks, social distancing, etc. We tried to make the most of the hip Austin scene by going to quiet/outdoor venues or getting takeaway. Which makes it impossible to experience and comment on the vibe and atmosphere, but there was some pretty awesome food and drink…

Only made it to one brewery, Central District Brewing, which had an interesting selection. And just steps away from our very centrally located city campsite was Austin EastCiders. Did what it says on the tin but not just that. In addition to cider, it also did damn good pizza, bonus.

And you can’t do Texas without experiencing the Texas bbq. Melt in the mouth meat, fall off the bone ribs, and smoked jalapeño cheddar sausages. At Louie’s Craft BBQ truck in nearby Buda, pulled pork and juicy brisket made for delicious tacos.

Dare I say it and for sure our waistlines are acknowledging this, but yet another donut shop. This one run out of a converted airstream trailer, right outside the Impact Hub, called Fat Bastard Donuts. Oops sorry, my subconscious speaking, actually it was Big Fat Donuts.

I’m not sure I ever truly appreciated the American partnering of chicken and waffles. And so who would’ve ever thought chicken and donuts would be a thing. Therein lies the realization that diets are for tomorrow and this crazy abomination, served with honey butter (like it needs any excuse for extra unctuousness) was somehow to die for.

For sure we didn’t come close to walking off all those calories. But Austin has a great network of paths centered around the riverfront that served us well for our early morning walks, getting out and about to see the city.

We came across Barton Springs “pool” one morning, which did not make for an impressive photo. It was shortly after sunrise. One of those sunrises with no sun – chilly and windy. I just missed snapping a swimmer in the water and there were other brave souls who had recently emerged. It was maybe 5 degrees C, tops. Rather them than me. Maybe they were trying to make up for the donuts too.

A quick google search revealed this is how it looks in the summer. A non-COVID summer I presume.

I was mightily impressed to see three climbers scaling the sheer wall of one of the skyscraper buildings. I thought it must be one of those social media stunts, “Hey, look at me! So what did you achieve before breakfast this morning…?” and immediately felt woefully inadequate.

Moral of the story: don’t judge yourself against the achievement of others. Turns out perception is not always reality.

After Mobile, Alabama, and NOLA, the shock of two cities in a row was enough to send us reeling back into no-man’s land. Many countries in Europe, along with certain US states were becoming more locked down by the day. We’d moved on to Texas, actually one of the more open US states, but we thought we’d do a solidarity lockdown for all you girls and boys out there experiencing the same.

True self-isolation for us was at a beach house on the Bolivar Peninsular. Sounds like an exotic elusive Russian hideout but it’s actually on the Gulf Coast. The closest city is Galveston, Texas but that’s so far away we might as well be in Russia.

We’d stocked up with food for the week and with the nearest store about an hour away, we were going nowhere. Anything we forgot, well we’d just have to make do. You’d think milk would be one of those things you wouldn’t forget but sure enough, by day two we were on black coffee.

We experimented throughout the week with almond milk, non-dairy creamer (thoughtfully left in the kitchen cupboard by another visitor who’d no doubt befallen the same fate) and even condensed milk. Which was the outright winner – if you haven’t tried condensed milk in your coffee, do yourself a favor.

The beach house itself was mere steps away from the ocean. The large outside deck with seaview was perfect for working. Well, a bit chilly for me actually, it is December you know.

Even inside, there was no forgetting we were at the beach. Beach house theming on steroids. Generally tastefully done, but this is a mere selection of some of the ocean-themed decor.

The morning walk pictures might feel a bit deja vu. There’s only so many different sunrise shots you can get from walking along a beach very similar to another one a few hundred miles away on the same coast. So after Ocracoke, Hilton Head Island and the Florida pan handle, sorry this is just more of the same.

Breaking it up with some photos from beach walks a little later in the morning.

And then there’s the sunset shots.

Ooh and then it started to get stormy towards the end of the week.

Oh the monotony of lonesome days of beach walks and sunrises, interspersed with work days on video calls, rounded off with home-cooking. Actually, maybe this self-isolating thing isn’t so bad after all.

Tick tock, tick tock. We hit December to find ourselves still over 2,000 miles from home. (Yes, we do have one!). From Mobile, Alabama, we zipped through Mississippi – blinked and almost missed it – to spend a few days in New Orleans, Louisiana. Pronounced with a southern drawl as Nyawlins, or NOLA for short.

The Airbnb we were staying in excelled in eclectic decor and drug-induced Barbie art. Yes really. Darren got some funny looks on Zoom calls where people were trying to read the neon sign behind his head saying “Don’t do coke in the bathroom”. Meanwhile I blurred my background to avoid any questions about Barbie snorting coke or pole dancing. Those exaggerated model facial features, irregular body proportions and pliable limbs were not what you’d call work-appropriate.

Oh and did I mention donuts? Yup, got them here too. Even though New Orleans is famous for beignets, we found a donut shop that was out of this world.

You can’t do Nyawlins without hitting up Bourbon street in the French Quarter. With neon lights, thumping music, and people wandering around with “to go” cups of fluorescent cocktails, it embodies the life and soul of a party city. Here, the raucous revelry never stops. Although I have to say it was somewhat muted by COVID, a little quieter than normal.

That was until we came across the wedding party. While many a wedding has been impacted by COVID this year, it wasn’t going to stop this couple, drinks in hand and brass band procession behind. We wished them well and gave them a wide berth.

We skirted the indoor bars in favor of patios, courtyards and balconies. Which made for a chilly date night!

Gotta love the cute houses here, complemented by tasteful Christmas decor.

But there’s nothing that captures the feel of a place more than wandering around the local neighborhoods. Election fever and all that nonsense was over… but Trump still wasn’t budging.

So a local resident went in a different direction. My hero.

If you told me a year ago I’d be camping in Alabama right now, after expressing a scoff of disbelief, I might have said, so where’s Alabama? Well some of Alabama skirts the Gulf coast to the west of Florida, with no noticeable difference as we transitioned states, lots of beach and swampy forest. Mind you, didn’t see any bears.

We overnighted at Gulf State Park on the coast and squeezed a bike ride in along their impressive miles of bike paths. Saw alligator number two but it didn’t do much, like a waxwork version.

There were signs informing that in addition to Not Feeding the alligators, you should also Not Aggravate them. I wondered who in their right mind would aggravate an alligator. Until I’d stood watching and waiting for it to do something for what felt like an age. To do something, anything – open its eyes, move a bit, twitch. Nothing. Even I was kind of tempted to toss a little pebble in the creek to get some sort of reaction. I reluctantly figured that could be counted as aggravation and restrained myself. I guess they do need that sign after all.

Overnight and all through the next day came the forewarned deluge of rain. You’ve gotta remember, the BaseCamp is a SoCal girl through and through, barely even knows what rain is. So she panicked and wet herself. Well, we had a couple of minor leakage issues. Nothing that couldn’t be sorted with some carefully placed tape.

Worse still, we had to relocate to our next campsite, luckily only a few hours away in Mobile, but not a lot of fun in heavy rain – windscreen wipers going ten to the dozen, slick roads and puddles galore.

Let’s get one thing straight about Mobile, Alabama. It’s not pronounced ‘MO-byle’ (per the Brits) or ‘MO-bull’ (per the Americans), like when talking about a cellphone. Those in the know go with ‘mo-BEEL’, emphasis firmly placed on the second syllable. Who knew?

I’m sure by now you don’t need me to go into this, but Mobile had a co-working space and a brewery.

Not only did Mobile serve as a reminder as to how good donuts can be, it is also the home of the USS Alabama, a retired yet still very imposing World War II battleship. I’m not an expert. My takeaway: it’s grey and full of guns. But it was also way cooler than I thought. Especially after being inside its neighboring sidekick, the USS Drum submarine. I’m not even claustrophobic but how could being in a submarine at war not be one of the most terrifying things ever? Bet they didn’t get donuts either.

So we went all the way to Florida and didn’t even see Mickey Mouse. Ah, not really the year for it. But way better than Mickey, we got to meet up with our long time friends Jim and Sam who live in Florida. They drove 450 miles all the way up from Fort Lauderdale to spend a few pre-Thanksgiving days with us in the Florida pan handle. And what a few days it was 🙂

Let’s set the scene… a waterfront location middle of nowhereville, an Airbnb beach house on stilts, and toys to play with – aka a two person canoe and a couple of single kayaks.

We started the proceedings with a leisurely morning jaunt out into the waters of the Gulf and into the meandering swampy canals. Lots of fish and even hermit crabs, very cool; luckily no alligators.

I was in a single kayak and although I started out strong, the longer we carried on, I became abashed at my skills to be able control the damn thing. Round and round in circles, ramming into the banks, my headstrong kayak had a mind of its own. Embarrassed nay appalled, I had to resort to begging Darren & Sam, smug and dry in the canoe, for a tow on the way back. My tail between my legs, I was thinking all this time I never did pull my weight on our double kayak adventures over the years. Back in my box.

Still, we ate and drank ourselves through the next few days. Such good food, all home cooked. Not to mention the brunches punching above their weight, bonus points for Bloody Marys. Speaking of the drink situation… Ya know, different people have different tastes. That’s ok. The fridge speaks for itself.

Thanksgiving to us is Friendsgiving. We did our best to pull in the rest of the wolf pack over the weekend. We love you guys!

And then Darren introduced me to the sunset boat experience. He took me out in the canoe, so leisurely and relaxed, a beer and a sunset to die for! OK, need to persuade the others for a repeat the next evening.

The next evening came around and there was a bit of shuffling and decision-making about who would go in which water craft. A bit miffed after my very poor morning kayak endeavor, I reluctantly agreed to try the other kayak. So yay, all four of us headed out on the water.

These are the moments you remember :-). Apologies for the number of pictures but actually no, I’m not sorry, we had such a ball this has gotta be remembered, commemorated, set in stone. We took a few beers along and we embraced the elements… the calm waters, the setting sun, and a sense of tranquility and freedom that comes from being alone yet together, not another soul around.

As we started the return paddle from the Gulf waters back to base, the fading light gave rise to a building sense of urgency. We hadn’t really intended to be out so long, certainly not after dark. But this time it wasn’t me going round in circles, it was Jim in the other kayak. C’mon Jim, keep up!

We zigzagged slowly back. Safe and sound, warm and dry back at base, we inspected the suspect kayak. Turns out there was a loose plug letting in water affecting its buoyancy and directional ability. Both Jim and I are officially redeemed!

Quite honestly, the rest of our week’s vacation could not quite match up to those first few days. We had to recover for a start.

We spent out the rest of our week’s holiday camping and relaxing by the beach, thankful for some time out.

As we mooched along the Gulf coast slowly working our way westward, there we were driving along the highway… and a BEAR ran across the road in front of us. I kid you not. A big hairy black bear. Stunned doesn’t quite cut it, I was gobsmacked. I literally thought it must have escaped from a zoo. I mean a bear in Florida? You don’t get wild bears in Florida. You know nothing Heather Hamilton. I googled it and sure enough, you do. So no Mickey Mouse for us in Florida, but I’ll make do with a Baloo!

Missing the ocean already after just a week inland, so after Savannah Georgia, we popped back to the east coast for a week. This time Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. No ferry required for this one, the island has been accessible by bridge since the 1950s.

Hilton Head is known for its incredible beaches, world class golf courses and mile upon mile of bike paths. It regularly ranks amongst the top spots for Best Island in the US, right up there with the Hawaii big boys. (I could be biased but think the voters might not have been to Ocracoke.)

First thing we did after setting up camp was to explore the island. We pointed at what looked to be a good spot on the map and headed there. With still five miles to go to drive to Harbour Town, we rounded a corner and came upon a gated entrance spanning the entire road. I got a raised eyebrow look from Darren and I pointed ineffectually at the iPhone which in its wisdom had directed us this way. All I could think was thank god we weren’t towing the Basecamp, it doesn’t excel at u-turns.

We really had no option other than to approach the barrier and mumble our apologies. Terribly sorry, we explained we were lost trying to find the lighthouse. With a self-assured grin, the lascivious gatekeeper advised us that indeed we were on the correct road and it would cost a mere $9 to enter Sea Pines Plantation. Ker-ching! Turns out the whole south western tip of the island, which encompasses more than 5,000 acres including Harbour Town is behind this facade. With a bit more research, we learned approximately 70% of the island is located inside gated communities.

Having parked up, we mooched around the marina to the candy striped lighthouse in Harbour Town. Only to learn it has never even been a proper functioning lighthouse – it was built as a tourist attraction and gift shop. WTF, it’s more smoke and mirrors than the Wizard of Oz.

One of the highlights of Hilton Head for us had to be our waterfront camp spot. Blanketed by lush vegetation giving us privacy from neighboring sites, it overlooked a marina and even had a little wooden deck, a perfect spot for BBQing. And wildlife watching. Even working.

But our main office for the week was the rather grand sounding Executive Suites, in which we both had our own offices. Going up in the world you might say 🙂 Ah, not so much. The offices might have been grand in the seventies… but there they had stayed. Proper old school.

Our pre-work morning recreation included rather blustery walks along the beach, in addition to checking out Pinkney refuge national wildlife reserve.

We didn’t get chance to check out those many miles of bike paths during the week, so we extended our stay on Hilton Head an extra night and out came the bikes.

We ignored the ‘Exclusive use of residents and guests’ signs and cheekily tailgated another couple riding on the bike path into a gated community. We cruised through the perfectly manicured and very posh Shipyard golf estate with a shameless grin borne from a misplaced sense of achievement. Nice of them to lay on the Disney features… a turtle strategically placed for photos by the lake. And an alligator (albeit a small one) lazily traversing the deeper waters.

All the best routes lead to the beach. We emerged from the rolling emerald expanse of fairytale telly tubby land to the golden white sand of Forest beach. Sand so hard packed you could ride on it. Admittedly, not the easiest of rides but so exhilarating to feel the wind in your hair, the sun on your back and the waves crashing alongside you.

And then like an oasis appearing in the desert, we spied a tiki style bar. All colorful wood, palm trees and a laid back reggae vibe. I heard the rewarding pfschhhh sound of a can of beer opening. And with my can of tropical lager in hand and view of the beach, it was then I remembered we’d taken the following week off work. What a perfect way to start the holiday.

Reluctant to leave the ocean after Ocracoke, we spent the weekend camped at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. Myrtle Beach markets itself as an affordable family vacation getaway. For the Brits – think Blackpool. Fairground rides, amusement arcades and piers. And some of the most OTT crazy golf courses you’ve ever seen.

In an effort to avoid all the craziness, we stayed a few miles down the road at Myrtle Beach State Park, enjoying the relative peace and quiet.

Charleston, SC

Next up: Charleston, South Carolina. A city with oodles of colonial history if you’re into that sort of thing; a lot of nice old buildings if you’re not. A fleeting visit for us, but long enough to explore the delightful market square, residential districts and waterfront. A very charming city.

Good job we only had a couple of nights here though as the overnight parking situation left a bit to be desired. Similar to Knoxville, we were in a car park next to the bus station downtown. That’s where the similarity ended. No open rooftop with city skyline views here. Um no, in Charleston we were huddled up between a U-haul trailer and a van in a covered car park.

What we hadn’t banked on was the humidity levels – you’re not in California now Toto! Overnight in the BaseCamp with no electric hook up (get real, this is a car park), our teeny tiny fan was not quite cutting it. It started with a mere muggy stuffiness, rising overnight to a stagnant stickiness, and by morning the air was heavy and stifling. I swear I dreamt of being buried alive.

You’d think it would help then to spend the day in an air-conditioned office. But no, I’d forgotten the penchant for humidity-overcompensation with icy blasting AC, experienced previously when working in Miami offices. From one extreme to the other, I was surrounded by people in shorts and t-shirts – meanwhile I spent my days in the office sporting not just one but two fleeces, only just drawing the line at the woolly hat.

Savannah, GA

Another day, another state. A couple of hours down the road and we were in Savannah Georgia.

With a rich heritage as Georgia’s first city, established in the early 1700s, it is now home to enormous paddle boats and mystical magical trees. (And I’m sure much more but I’m not big on city write ups. If you’re interested, come visit and do the hop on hop off bus tour.)

I don’t want to appear fickle but I’m in danger of defaulting to a new favorite tree. Abundant in Savannah is the Live Oak tree, so called because it doesn’t lose its leaves over the winter. These majestic trees, wider than they are tall, become even more impressive when draped with Spanish moss (which is neither Spanish nor moss).

The moss makes the Live Oaks look rather ghostly at night, which no doubt helps to fuel Savannah’s reputation for ‘most haunted city’.

Our ‘office’ for a few days in Savannah was our hotel room. Mixed it up a bit with the open rooftop area at the top of our hotel.

As we were staying in a hotel, we dined out. Found a cool bar aka The Ordinary Pub.

One of Savannah’s primary claims to fame is for being the location of the Forrest Gump bench. You know the one, where Forrest tells his life story to any poor unsuspecting passer by, sat on a park bench waiting for a bus. One of those iconic movie moments just begging to be re-lived.

We toured the many squares in the city, classic mini parks with trees and benches, until we came upon Chippewa square where the famous scene was filmed. Soon to be renamed Disappointment square, as it turns out the actual bench is located in the Savannah history museum. Undeterred, we took the picture anyway.

Having done our sightseeing during the week, we treated ourselves to a COVID-friendly walking tour of various drinking establishments. Starting off by sitting outside a British pub that served Pimms! Complete with cucumber (no strawberry but you can’t have everything).

On to a brewery that was not only light, bright and well-ventilated but also did beer flights. Kind of. Well, we worked our way through the board. A spacious distillery and a roof-top bar completed our beverage experience.

The Outer Banks – OBX to the locals, is a narrow string of barrier islands stretching a few hundred miles down the North Carolina coast, mostly connected by a series of long low arched bridges – it reminded me of driving down through the Florida Keys. All the way up in the north is the town of Kitty Hawk and nearby Killer Hill Divide, site of the famous very first successful powered flight, courtesy of Orville and Wilbur Wright.

After a long drive from Asheville, we pulled into our campsite along the Cape Hatteras National Seashore in OBX just in time to see the dying rays of sunset. An emotional moment to reach the Atlantic coast, having driven over 3,000 miles cross-country with our trusty BaseCamp. And quite a feat given the current global pandemic situation, which ironically is what made it possible. When life gives you lemons…

The North Carolina coast was apparently a favorite haunt of an infamous pirate, Blackbeard. After years of raping and pillaging (oh hang on, that was the Vikings)… After years of plundering and swashbuckling – and ooh arrrr me hearties, Blackbeard was killed by British naval forces just off Ocracoke island in 1718. Word has it there’s still a stash of buried treasure somewhere on the island. They certainly make the most of it with pirate themed shops and pirate paraphernalia going on. Moreover, the shops also showcase a diverse array of historical flags, including an impressive collection of Confederate Texas flags from ultimateflags.

But the real jewel of the Outer Banks is the sea itself. You remember the post where I warned you about lots of pictures of autumn trees? Well brace yourself for lots of pictures of the ocean. We tried to make the most of it with sunrise walks along the beach.

Our destination for the week in OBX was Ocracoke Island. No co-working spaces in the middle of nowhere so that put us in an Airbnb for the week. A nice change and the BaseCamp just hung out in the driveway.

So I can’t get any further without bursting into a oooooh Hokey Cokey Cokey. Tell me you didn’t do the same when I first mentioned Ocracoke? To be fair, you’re probably not supposed to pronounce the ee at the end (although I don’t know for sure, should have asked a local). The problem with my mind is it has a tendency to launch into song when faced with something that even closely resembles song lyrics. Those serene sunrise walks strolling hand in hand along a romantic deserted beach… yeah, meanwhile my head is urging me to put my left leg in, my left leg out, in out, in out and shake it all about.

I had heard of the wild mustangs in Ocracoke, apparently descendants of shipwrecks in the 1500s. To me, two things spring to mind when I think of wild horses/ponies. One is the New Forest near where we used to live in England. Pretty tame ponies roaming the vast (in the scheme of things) moors, free to come and go as they please although generally more likely to congregate near the ice cream shops. Secondly, my idea of a true wild horse is a powerful noble beast galloping along a hard packed beach, maybe emerging from the sea like the white horses in the 90s Guinness advert.

Afraid to say these ones delivered on neither front. They are protected in a 180 acre enclosure, separated from the public by a double wooden fence. Supposedly feral but decidedly timid and I honestly struggled to understand quite how they differ from any other horses in a field.

While most of OBX is connected by bridges, the island of Hokey Cokey Cokey stands by itself, accessible only by boat or plane. For us that meant a ferry ride to the island, complete with the BaseCamp. There’s something about going on a boat that just makes you feel like you’re on holiday. And after a super cool week, we were back on the ferry, this time a two hour ferry ride back to the mainland.

It was one of those ferries with no amenities – no coffee lounge or bar to chill out in, you just sit in your car and suck it up. But not for us. With the BaseCamp in tow, we just hopped right in there, put the kettle on for a brew and rustled up some breakfast.

As we lounged decadently in our own space, we had an uninterrupted view of the ocean streaming by, the sun glinting off the water, and a sense of anticipation for our next destination. And just for a fleeting moment, it felt like we were in our cabin on a cruise ship…