A RIDDLE WRAPPED IN AN

Say, what?  Stay tuned.

Our second day we decided to take the scoot south along the Banks to the 1870 Cape Hatteras lighthouse and the Graveyard of the Atlantic Museum.  The lighthouse is the tallest brick one in the country, at 208 feet, and sports a distinctive spiral pattern.

There are 257 steps to the top.  This was the first.  Sure, she’s smiling now.

A (ahem) few stops later, we got a great view from the top of the coast

and of the original keepers’ houses.  Hey, she’s still smiling!

The Banks are, of course, barrier islands, and take the brunt of the open sea.  There is constant erosion and replacement going on.  The lighthouse originally was a half mile further east, but in 1999 was moved (intact!) inland that distance to put it on safer ground.  Below is a shot of the original site – the sandy area at the end of the cleared ground.  Back in 1870, that location was itself a half mile from the ocean.

OK, to get back to the title, der riddle vas wrapped in an

Being a fan of spy novels, seeing an actual Enigma machine was pretty neat, although I have to say it’s not much to look at.  Unfortunately, it was the best part of this “museum,” which very much is a local, low-budget effort.  There was hardly anything else to see, and the free admission was just about the right price.  Don’t make a special trip for this one.  As we left the museum, the sky had changed quite a bit, and we were facing a 40 mile ride back to camp.  Note the elevated beach houses that front the ocean.

We didn’t get very far before the skies opened up with a vengeance, and the wind started howling.  This is a no go for the scoot.  I couldn’t see a thing, we were getting drenched, and we were in danger of skidding or getting blown over.  Luckily, we were near a line of houses that had carports, so we pulled over and into one that looked unoccupied, and waited out the storm.

I kept wondering who put the trash cans out and whether they’d come home to find us lurking in their garage, but no one did.  Some of these beach houses are bizarre in their styling, and they all sit high on stilts.

The rain slowed enough that we could proceed with caution, although I kept thinking about the “smooth” tread pattern (or lack thereof) that the scoot sports.  Not the best thing for riding in the wet.  We made it back without any real drama, but it was exhausting.  Ahhhh.  Just don’t put a white lily in my hands.