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    Wednesday the 16th saw me turning my back on Charleston, with some

regret, and heading north along 17 with the ultimate destination for the day

of somewhere in the Outer Banks. Well planned, as usual, you can see. Highway

17 runs near the Atlantic through a national forest for a while, although

you'd never know it -- the ocean being near, that is. The forest is obvious.



    At Georgetown I elected to continue to stay near the sea and followed 17

to 501 and then dropped down into Myrtle Beach. For a moment I was having a

Santa Cruz, CA, flashback, but woke up enough to figure out that this was a

holiday town, at least the first bit which would probably appeal more to the

high school set. From there north it became more up scale and eventually

residential -- and the ocean was visible occasionally.



    Not long after North Myrtle Beach one is welcomed into North Carolina,

but the sign was situated such that I couldn't stop for a photograph. Trust

me. They do welcome you.

No foliage for North Carolina on their plate



    The 17 route continued on through Wilmington, which doesn't have much to

recommend it during a drive through. Somewhere further along 17 (probably

near Holly Ridge I stopped for lunch. (Please note that some details are

already getting a bit fuzzy as I write this 10 days after the fact, so as

time goes on you'll read a few more "probablys" and "maybes." I carried a

small tape recorder with me so details are available, but until I get home

there isn't time to review tapes for these articles.)



    I believe it was shortly after lunch I saw the following, did a double

take, then did a tourist move and went back for a photo.

I thought maybe Mr. Cooper had decided to take up another profession, until I noticed the small
apostrophe.



    And it wasn't more than another 100 feet down the road that I came upon

this obligatory shot that goes with every Mini trip. Another U-turn and

another photo session beside the road. I was hoping that no one was watching.

I didn't want to have to deal with the local sheriff.

I've always wanted to ask about
storage for my Mini at one of these places, 

but I figure they wouldn't see
the humor.



    Shortly after all the photo exercises I headed off on 172 at Folkstone to

see if I could get closer to the water (and to avoid having to go through

Jacksonville). Much to my surprise I crossed a bridge and found myself coming

upon a guard's gate at the entrance to the Marine base, Camp Lejeune. Oops.

Did I take a wrong turn? The guard didn't seem too happy to have to come out

of his little hut to walk around to the right side of my car. He patiently

explained, as I'm sure he does many times a day, that the public road, 172,

does indeed go through the base and that I could proceed, which I did with

much relief. It was an interesting drive. I kept passing all these signs that

warned of Tank Crossings and shortly after a vehicle pulled out of the woods

in front of me, two marines jumped out and flagged me down just before where

a dirt road opens up onto 172. Within a few seconds out of the dirt road came

two tanks at full chat. BIG tanks. REAL BIG tanks. I thanked the guard for

stopping me. I had visions of that one Mr. Bean episode. Believe me, those

guys could have crossed the road even with me in the way and there wouldn't

have been anything left but a little gray smudge! I managed to grab the

camera and snap off a couple of quick shots before it occurred to me that I

probably shouldn't be shooting maneuvers on a Marine base. No one said

anything and I didn't bring it up, either.

I yielded right of way.



    The rest of the journey though the Camp was a little less exciting. I did

pull a Dubuque, though. A Dubuque is what my friend and I came up with as a

term for getting off course. On the way to Miami, somehow we made a wrong

turn in Dubuque, Iowa and had to make a full circle of the downtown area

avoiding the one-way streets to get back on course. From that time on, a

minor off course excursion was a "Dubuque." A more major mistake was a Full

Dubuque and later this same day, I did a Full Dubuque with extra points for

difficulty!



    Anyway, somewhere in all the Tank avoiding excitement I made a wrong

turn, missed the exit from the camp (by about 50 feet, it turns out) and did

a big loop almost back where I had been. I went by a staging area for the

tanks that were making the run through the woods and ended up at the tail end

of a convoy of several types of Marine vehicles -- much to the amusement of

the Marines on the trucks! Eventually, I discovered that I was now going the

opposite way on some of the same roads I ran earlier. The light dawned and,

with another tourist maneuver, I corrected my errors and found my way off the

base. I felt safer with the 18-wheelers.



    Eventually, I picked up 24, followed it to 70 and followed 70 to Cedar

Island to catch the ferry to Ocracoke Island. (With the exception of the Full

Dubuque with Extra Points for Difficulty which cost me 25 miles. The

navigator missed a sign. Good help is so hard to get.) I was a bit nervous

about this step because one of the books I have said that a reservation has

to be made. It turns out that you do need one, but you don't have to call

ahead. As long as the ferry isn't crowded, just show up and pay ($10) at the

gate.



    I stopped just short of the ferry terminal to get gas. EG was getting

near empty and I didn't know what the fuel situation would be on the island.

A couple of farm boy, 20 somethings were hanging around the small station and

started in with the usual questions and comments until one of their friends

chimed in with his knowledge of Minis and their racing exploits. The

conversation took a more interesting turn and I did my usual standup routine

of a mini Mini history. They were so impressed I thought maybe they were

going to invite me home for supper and to meet their sister. At that point I

motored off and found out I missed the ferry by 5 minutes! No big deal. It's

3:05. When's the next one due? 6:00! EG ended up first in line for the next

ferry.

Three hours early, but first in line.



    To kill time I dragged the computer out and did some writing near the

gift shop in the shade, and I tried to get a connection on the cell phone so

that I could reserve a room for the night. The ferry crossing is about 2

hours and 15 minutes so it was likely that it would be 8:30 before I got on

the island and could start searching. Having no luck with the cell phone, I

got change and used the pay phone after doing the usual paper search for a

place to stay. "Yes, we have a room. When will you be here? Oh, well, we

might not be there still, but we'll leave the key in the door."



    Still with a lot of time to kill I wandered back to the car and ended up

standing there (in the heat and humidity) for quite a while explaining all

about Minis to everyone who showed up as the next car in line! Mostly it was

the usual questions and comments. "Mah, ain't tha' a cute lil' thang." "Wha's

it got? A one cylinder? (Guffaw, guffaw)" But I did run into some people that

knew cars in general and even someone who'd read the survey that picked the

Mini 2nd behind the Model T as the most influential car of the 20th Century.

He'd never seen one before and really enjoyed finding out more about the car.



    Finally, the ferry showed up and I was a bit taken aback. To myself I

said, using my best Crocodile Dundee imitation, "That's not a ferry.

(Pretending to get a photo out of a Puget Sound ferry), this is a ferry." It

was several sizes smaller than I was used to but was supposed to hold 50

cars. I wasn't concerned. I was first in line.

"That's not a ferry!"

From the back of the Ocracoke bound ferry.



    The trip was nice and we arrived in time for me to check into the room

without having to look for the one with the key in the lock. (Computer work

for the night was to be off line. For the first time in my travels I was shut

out. No connection.) Then food became an issue. I'd waited to eat dinner on

the ferry. (Right. No food on that little thing!), so I wandered off to solve

the hunger pains, and read some more about what I was going to find as I

drove up the islands. It had been a nice day, and a nice drive with EG

seeming to enjoy herself. We both liked the ferry ride, too. When I was

leaving the restaurant, someone said a storm was moving in and suggested I

walk fast. Sure enough, just as I closed the motel room door behind me, the

thunder and lightening started up and the skies opened, putting a noisy, wet

end to the 16th.