The coastland times. [volume] (Mnateo [i.e. Manteo], N.C.) 1947-1959, 1958-06-13
By FRAN Mcdaniel

Sdlu Tile VOICE Ol u WOlndH ONSl
the telephone a year ago, "You &C
to Cape Hatteras, but you don't
keep on to Ocracoke-and Ocra-
coke is out of this world"
The voice was that of Mrs
Wayne Peterson of College Hill
and she phoned after reading a
News-Tribune account of a vaca-
ton taken by this writer in March
of 1857.
Well, Mrs. Peterson, Carolina
Bruhn of New Brighton and l
got to OcracOke last week and
it's all you said and more! 1t
wasn't that we didn't know about
Ocracoke last year. Time was the
element that interfered with our
visit. This month, OcracOke was
our destination and we're
thankful that it's still rather
difficult to reach because there
is a quaintness and a charm
about the little town and the
island of the same name that
will be lost when it becomes a
stopping place for thousands of
tourists.
Ocracoke is a part of the Cape
Hatteras National Seashore Rec
reational Area, the thin barrier of
golden sand on the windswept
Outer Banks of North Carolina.
Reaching from Whalebone Junction
at the southern boundary of Mays
Head, some 70 miles southwark
through Ocracoke Village, the ma
tional park preserves 28,500 acres
of beach land on three islands,
Bodie, Hatteras and Ocracoke,
each separated from it's neighbor
by an inlet across which ferry
boats now ply on regular sched-
ules. 1t was not ever thus. In the
spring of 1857 a single ferry boat
trip day was made to Ocracoke
and that followed an uncertain
schedule.
Driving south, we stopped the
first night just north of Richmond,
Va. and the second night at Bux-
ton village which is about a mile
from Cape Hatteras itself. That
second day we'd revisited the
Wright Memorial at Kitty Hawk,
and continuing through Mays Head
we became increasingly eager to
reach Ocracoke.
So at 10 am. Monday morning,
April 81, we We're at Hatteras
village and embarking on the flat
bottomed boat for the Pamlico
Sound crossing.
1t was one of those pleasant
spring days, with the sun shining
brightly and the sky arching blue
overhead. From the railing we
watched the church spires and the
homes of the village fade away,
and as we approached the shore of
Ocracoke, our ferry suddenly
ground to a stop. We were on a
sandbar!
For Is minute the ferry opera
tor turned and twisted the craft,
finally wrenching it free of the
sand, which for several hundred
years has been a factor in making
the coast "the graveyard of the
Atlantic"
First car off the ferry mot
ours) got chung up" because it
was built so low. Eager hands
pitched in to help, however, since
this occurrence, We learned, isn't
anything new, and heavy planks
were laid, down which the auto
mobile inched it's way.
Road of Steel
For three miles from the present
ferry boat landing the "road" COM
prises steel mats laid on the sand,
with provisions for one-way travel
only. Since a several mile view is
commanded however, drivers have
ample time to pull over to pass
ing zones" about half a mile
apart, where additional plates had
been laid. A black-top road at the
north end of the island is impos-
sible because of the shifting sands.
The inlets along the "banks" have
a history of opening, migrating
southwark and clothing. In time of
great storm. they are born, usually
having a lifetime of a few hun
dred years or less.
After the steel mat highway"
comes IL miles of two-lane black
top to the village, and it was in
the thick sage and the dwarfed
growth that we spied the first of
Ocracoke's famous wild ponies
grazing. Believed to be the de-
scendants of ship-wrecked boat
loads of Arabian and Moorish
horses, the ponies are actually
stunted horses noted for their
speed and hardness. All the ma
ture animals now wear the brands
of owners and the young colts are
branded during the annual July a
pony-penning. Ocracoke boy scouts
enjoy the unique distinction of be-
ing fully mounted on these hand
some little animals.
AS we drove into Ocracoke vii
lage, we were startled to see an