Okay, so we didn't pitch a tent, we dropped a hook.  But we didn't have any electricity, and were forced to use the backup generator to make coffee for breakfast.  (Couldn't find the cook stove coffe pot.)  Limited to 12 volt lights, we actually had a peaceful stay.

Cape Lookout is on the southerly end of Core Banks; it's a boot shaped spit of land that provides a natural safe anchorage for sail and power boat alike.  M<uch to the dismay of the animal contingent, the seas were rough getting there and they were at the receiving end of marine poltergeist activity (lost another wineglass - oh, well.)

Once anchored, we took the boys ashore for a little R&R (potty time) and went shelling on the ocean side.  It's about a half block from bayside to oceanside, but a challenging dune climb nonetheless. 

Fat woman and her fat dog go shelling!  

Bill dove on the bottom of the boat after we returned, checking for potential prop damage incurred during our little grounding last week.  He was happy to report that:

  a.  our props were in perfect condition

  b. there was approximately 6 feet of rope (?) wrapped around                           aforementioned pristine props

  c.  we were hosting the international barnacle convention on the bottom                       of  our boat!

Captain Bill gets intimate with barnacles.

About 5:30 the next morning, I felt awake enough to chance baiting a fishing pole to see if the rumors about feeing times might actually be true.  Bill slept on, while I took out a few hapless, headless shrimp and skewered them on my\ bottom rigs.  After placing them just so, I resumed reading my book.  Within an amazing 20 minutes, the pole jiggled.  I pulled up my traditional 6" bluefish, and of course, the greedy little poop had swallowed the hook.

While he grunted impatiently at me, I snipped the leader and plopped him back into the water.  Back to the book.  Rudely interrupted again, I reeled in the persistent presence at the end of the line.  Imagine my surprise when it turned out to be a baby shark!  I hollered to his dormancy to get topside and when he emerged he said "gotta fish?"  To which I replied, "just wanted you to see what a real shark looks like!"  Bill donned his gloves and we pulled the baby onto the boat.  Couldn't cut the hook, so we cut the leader and released him. 

Later, as I was making breakfast, Bill hollered  "Fish!  fish!"  I rushed outside and he handed me the pole.  He grabbed the net while I tried to reel in whatever was at the other end.  "Oh for cryin' out loud," I said, "we gotta snag."  "Snag, hell, check your line!"   Sure enough, the line was playing out from the reel.  "um, okay, I'll keep pulling it bin."  Easier said than done.  Long story short - the party at the water end of the line surfaced and rolled  We were treated to about 4 feet of sandy brown underbelly and 2 feet of side fin be fore said party said 'screw this' and chomped the steel leader, never to be seen again.  Sand shark.  Major sand shark.

Baby shark - -probably only days or weeks old - welcome to the world kid, think of the hook in your mouth as body jewelry!

After breakfast, I kayaked into shore to do some more shelling.  Not finding anything earth-shaking, I paddled back to the boat, only to be startled by a loud exhaling.  It was a sea turtle!  It's shell was at least 8 feet long and 4 feet wide - enormous!  And it wasn't alone.  Another sea turtle surfaced on the other side. How cool was this?!  (Sea turtles seem to be fascinated by kayaks.  We played with a group in St. John many years ago.)

Gina Lola Jellyfish

As I approached the boat, Bill pointed out a lovely jelly floating just under the surface.  All in all, a terrific campout!

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