Roaming free at Cape Lookout

Southern Living, Aug 1998 by Rada, Joe

Thin bands of marsh and sand form this remote national seashore off North Carolina's coast. Ferry over for free-range ponies, a ghost town, and solitude.

Wading ankle deep in a salt marsh, Branson Eisenman gingerly rakes clams for his supper. Deeply tanned wearing swim trunks and a hat, he moves in the calm, deliberate manner of a meditative man. Like many island dwellers, he's in tune with the tides, the long arc of the summer sun, the migrating habits of tasty fish species, and the hatching cycles of various biting insects.

"Some people ask me how I stand living so far from everything and with all the mosquitoes," says the laidback caretaker for a cluster of rustic cabins apart from civilization. "Others, the ones who keep coming back for weeklong stays, ask when I am going to retire so they can have my job."

Such are the extremes in which visitors regard the harsh, beautiful, and remote barrier islands of Cape Lookout National Seashore. These thin ribbons of shifting dunes, topped by sea oats, edged by salt marshes, and banked hard against the Atlantic off North Carolina`s central coast, inspire both a possessive devotion and a tearful respect.

Only a stone's throw wide in places but 55 miles long, Cape Lookout National Seashore stretches from near Beaufort northeast almost to Ocracoke. No bridges serve its key land masses-Shackleford Banks, South Core Banks, North Core Banks-- separated by inlets and perched about 1 to 15 miles offshore. The only access is by private boat or by ferry. Nearby ferry services, some run by the same families for generations, depart from landings in the small towns of Beaufort, Harkers Island, Davis, Atlantic, and Ocracoke.

Windswept, tide-washed, sunbaked, storm-battered, and bug-plagued, the park harbors no permanent residents and attracts relatively few visitors. Most are the type who revel in its separation from the rest of the world. Primitive camping is allowed. A handful of no-frills cabins can be reserved. Favorite activities include surf casting, shell collecting, bird watching, clamming, surfing, beachcombing.

As deserted as it is now, it's hard to imagine a string of villages here. From the mid-1700s to the mid-- 1900s, seaports, fishing and whaling centers, ranching communities, and lifesaving stations emerged. Altered shipping lanes sealed the fates of some, hurricanes washed out others, and the rest faded away.

Since the creation of the national seashore in 1966, much has returned to nature. Most of the houses, docks, feral livestock, and junk cars left to rust are gone. A few historic sites and fishing camps are all that remain to mark man's doings. Famous now for having next to nothing on it, Cape Lookout surprises people with what it does have, including a lighthouse, a herd of free-- roaming horses, pristine natural areas, and a preserved village.

On pleasant summer days or when the red drum and bluefish are running, locals anchor small crafts and spread beach towels, picnics, and baited lines. Travelers from farther away often mount day trips to the Cape Lookout Lighthouse area for beachcombing and swimming.

The lighthouse rises near Cape Point, the ocean-piercing southern tip of South Core Banks. Visitors hire one of several boat-and-pilot services on Harkers Island and, after a 10-minute ride, land near the 1859-- vintage brick tower. Volunteers explain about the light and its keeper's quarters. From there, Sonny and Jenny Williamson take over with a tour service called the Mule Train.

"People ferry over and then find out it takes a lot of walking to get anywhere," Sonny says. "We load people into our pickup and flatbed trailer and haul them all around."

All around can include skirting a maritime forest, passing old Coast Guard buildings and the ruins of World War II gun mounts, and reaching the giant sandbar of Cape Point, where the best shells wash up. Along the way tongue-in-cheek Sonny, author of Fish House Lies, tells stories about pirates, shipwrecks, hurricanes, and past island natives.

The water route to the lighthouse offers a glimpse at one of Cape Lookout's most surprising residents. A herd of smallish horses roams free on the high dunes and thick brush of 8-mile-long Shackleford Banks. At low tide they wander into shallow Back Sound to graze on marsh grass. They're a curious sight standing thigh deep in lapping waves far from dry land.

"There are about a hundred of them," says Margaret Willis, director of the Foundation for Shackleford Horses. "They descended from Spanish horses left here as much as four centuries ago. More recently they were used by the families who lived up and down the banks."

To the north, the ghost town of Portsmouth Village stands in mute testimony to a past way of life. Established in the 1750s, it was a major port for nearly a century. Ocean-- going vessels couldn't navigate the shallow sounds leading to North Carolina's rivers. So here at Ocracoke Inlet, goods were transferred to or from higher drafting boats.

The bustling village began to shrink after an 1846 hurricane cut a deeper inlet farther north at Hatteras. Islanders turned to fishing or later worked for a lifesaving station. The population steadily declined until 1971 when the last villagers, two elderly women, reluctantly left.