We were going to climb to the very top. 207 steps in total. 207 steps of which, I can only imagine, were going to be hot, airless, and claustrophobic. We were in the middle of a heatwave after all and I felt like someone had wrapped a wet towel around my face just standing on shore and looking at Cape Lookout Lighthouse from across the water: a small black and white checkered beacon, mirage-like, shimmering in the heat.
The Cape Lookout Lighthouse and national seashore can only be accessed by ferry or a private boat. Oh, to live a life that includes a private boat! Alas, we were taking the ferry from Harkers Island at 9am, in the hopes that it would be less crowded and it wouldn’t be quite as hot. We were correct only about the former.
We climbed aboard the Island Express Ferry Service, a 16 passenger flat bottom skiff, and along with a handful of other passengers, piled our beach supplies in the middle of the boat, forming an island of coolers, towels, umbrellas, and tote bags. The ferry driver, in a thick Southern accent, told us that we would be cruising past the tip of Shackleford Banks and might see some wild horses that made the island their home.
With that we were off. Whisking across the shallow water, I was instantly relieved by the wind and the occasional hard splashes of water that would come up over the sides of the ferry. My camera was still cool to the touch from being in the air conditioning in the house, and as I looked through the viewfinder, my world became hazy and indistinct as the lens fogged in the sudden humidity and sunlight.
Nearing Shackleford Banks, we could see a small group of wild horses gathered on shore. Stopping briefly for photos, we pressed on reaching the lighthouse in under twenty minutes. Climbing onto a small, but well maintained wooden pier on the Sound side of the island, we take a moment to redistribute and hoist our beach supplies onto our backs. Aside from the other passengers on the ferry, the beach is empty and quiet.
First thing’s first: Climb the lighthouse, set up on the beach, enjoy a picnic lunch around noon, and catch the ferry back mid-afternoon; otherwise known as a perfect day. We plod down the pier that connects to a boardwalk that leads to the lighthouse and the ocean side of the island.
The Cicadas are loud and insistent in the pine trees and fat pine cones litter the sand next the boardwalk. Though there is a breeze, I can’t wait to get to the top of the lighthouse and feel how strong the wind will be, how it will tear at my hair and clothes, how freeing it will feel after climbing up the dark, close, hot interior.
I stop and take a picture with my phone on the pier, letting my friends go on ahead. Probably the same picture that every tourist takes, but what the hell. It’s Sunday, I have tomorrow off, and I’m spending the day on an island beach. I smile a little, tuck my phone back in my bag, and hurry to catch up. We got a lighthouse to climb!
Which is when I see them, my friends, clustered around a sign and an empty ticket window, shaking their heads:
Ticket Window Hours
May 12 to September 19
Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday.
Oh, you got to be kidding!
