Morehead City to Oriental – 20 nautical miles sailed, 4 kilometres walked, 1 mile in dinghy
The last time we visited Oriental, North Carolina, we liked it. After spending another afternoon here, we liked it even more, enough to skip the travel day planned for tomorrow and instead take in the annual Oriental Boat Show.
After an easy 20 mile run up the ICW and finding a nice anchor spot within the protected harbour of Oriental, we spent a couple of hours replacing the second yellowed panel in our bimini enclosure. En route, Ana had pulled out the threading from the old panel, then once we arrived I measured and cut the Strataglass using the old one as a template, we taped it in place on the canvas frame, then I held it while Ana carefully ran the edges through her sewing machine and firmly attached it with two lines of stitching. After putting the second completed panel back in place, we both stood in the cockpit, gobsmacked. It was as if the scabs on our eyes had been lifted, the clouded vision was gone, the blind could now see. It’s funny how you can get used to something to such a degree that you simply don’t notice problems any more. A similar thing happened a few days ago. The inside of the cockpit canvas had become speckled with dots of black mold. We’d both noticed it, but for some reason thought it would be impossible to clean. Well, Ana got out the bottle of vinegar water and a rag and voila, after some vigorous scrubbing, it all washed off, leaving a beautifully clean surface. Now, with the new panels in place, and the clear, unobstructed view, it felt like we had a brand new enclosure. There was one thing, though. As I was admiring the new panels, a demonic face appear in the corner, looking right at me and smiling a really scary smile. I took this as a sign that I should be playing more metal music on the boat.
If I were a young person, good with my hands, a bit artistic, into boats, and was looking for a career, I would be getting a job at any of the marine canvas shops, all run by cranky 75-year-old dudes that hate their lives and their customers but are very good at what they do. I would get a job with one of them, work for a couple of years to learn the tricks and the trade, then buy out their business, probably for the cost of the machinery and inventory as those small operations are worth very little despite the earnings potential. I would then transform it into a modern, customer-focused business, find good staff and train them well, then expand like crazy and become the go-to place for marine canvas. The place where customers know you will answer the phone in a friendly and professional voice, provide a quote, be easy to work with, build a beautiful boat enclosure, and charge them an exorbitant amount of money, but well worth it for the immaculate product, which is completed on time and on budget. We know from experience there is nobody young running these businesses and the demand is massive, with unlimited amounts of work. I better mention this to Magnus.
After tying up the dinghy at the free public dock in Oriental, we began walking and immediately saw a sign for the Oriental Boat Show, starting tomorrow, and the townsfolk were all busy preparing. In a park we found a large tented area with tables full of used marine equipment for a swap meet. Near the town chandlery was another tented areas with reams of product being set out for the show. Another public dock had three show boats tied up, for sale and available for touring. It seems we had a plan for tomorrow.
We stopped at The Bean, which is what I would describe as a perfect coffee shop. It has a few tables inside, a comfy couch, books and magazines to read, and a view to the harbour out the large bay windows. They have a nice selection of fresh pastries, a full coffee menu, ice cream and milkshakes, and a small selection of merchandise – shirts, cups, trinkets. The temperature is perfect, the staff are friendly, the music is soothing, and the vibe is quasi-backpacker. I love this place. We met a Quebecer family there, also working their way northwards, and had a nice conversation. I expect we’ll be seeing them again along the way.
Our next stop was the Piggly Wiggly grocery store, about a mile and a half outside of town. We were sad to have missed the Piggly Wiggly last time we were here but we weren’t going to make that same mistake this time – especially considering its colourful history. The walk seemed long and once again Ana had worn the wrong footwear and her shoes were grinding up her feet.
“Don’t you have any reliable footwear?” I asked. “See these sandals I’m wearing? They never hurt my feet and I can walk for miles. They may be ugly, but they never let me down.”
“Those sandals are hideous. Look, my Birkenstocks never hurt my feet, I just didn’t wear them today. Then for the winter I have a lovely pair of boots that are always comfortable. And I might have one pair of runners at home that are pretty good.”
“You own hundreds of pairs of shoes. Literally, hundreds. And you buy new ones all the time. In In fact, didn’t you buy two pairs of shoes in Morehead?”
“Sure did.”
“And 99% of them are uncomfortable?”
“It’s a fashion thing.”
I stopped my line of questioning right there because I had my answer. Fashion trumps all.
An old white guy in a fancy yellow Corvette (have you ever seen a person of any other description driving a Corvette? I thought not.) passed us once as we were walking, then did a big loop and passed us again, but this time he pulled over.
“How far y’all walking? Nobody walks around here,” he said, flashing his perfect white teeth and probably winking through his Magnum PI shades.
“To the Piggly Wiggly,” I said.
“Well, I’d love to give y’all a ride but there’s only one seat left here. See y’all later,” he said as he hit the accelerator and sped off.
After he spun out, leaving us in a cloud of pavement dust, Ana said, “He could have given me a ride.”
“That was a genuine non-offer of a ride presented as a sort-of-offer. That guy must be a lawyer.”
The Piggly Wiggly was just as fantastic as it sounds and we picked up a few provisions. They even had a cool looking Piglet Shuttle for boat folk, but when Ana asked if we could get a ride they said the owner was the only one insured to drive it and he wasn’t around. Instead, Ana found some little doughnut-shaped bunion bandages for her blistered feet, and a pot of Haagen-Daz ice cream to take her mind off the painful walk – problem solved. She even shared a few scoops with me during the return walk.
We cozied up in SeaLight for the remainder of the evening, quite excited for tomorrow’s show, and glad we would have a day off traveling.
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