August 14th, 2007 – August 20th, 2007
When we finally reached the Goose Creek Campground check-in point, everyone had gone home and we were left with an envelope welcoming us to the area, along with a map of the campground. After winding our way through an extensive street network of stationary RVs and trailers (we’re talking a whole neighborhood here – with street signs, foundations under the trailers, front porches – the whole nine yards – asking ourselves – this is a campground?), we suddenly ended up on a huge open field right next to the water. Standing in silence, taking it all in, we slowly noticed a few trees off to our right, with what appeared to be the only tent area of the many acres – with room for about 6 tents. The good news was that there were trees, the sites were close to the water, and there were spaces open; the bad news was that we were totally exhausted and couldn’t make up our minds about where to put our tent. At this point, shade was the ultimate priority.
On our right was a large family grouping with what felt like an army of young kids; next to them was a single guy who looked to be in his late 40s, maybe 50; and then a young couple on the far end. Everyone looked to be pretty nice, but the guy in the center was looking at us interestedly, so we wandered over that direction and asked him about the set-up. He told us we could take any spot, and move tables, or share his table, whatever we wanted, and judging the shade pattern (where were we going to get the most shade all day long), we settled in right next to him. His name was Greg Bailey, and we’d made an excellent choice, as we’d find out over the next 5 days.
Greg told us where the bathrooms were, and where we could get our laundry done. On our way back from the showers and laundry, I spotted a small shed about a hundred feet away from the campsite that looked suspiciously like an outhouse, but I couldn’t believe it would really be one, just stuck out by itself in the middle of nowhere. I figured it had to be a storage shed. Always curious, I went to check it out – it really was an outhouse, but with a flush toilet! That toilet remains one of our favorite memories, and never mind how handy it was to have a flush toilet so close to the site (the full bathrooms were quite a distance away).
When we look back at Bogue Sound, we really didn’t do much that was so amazing, but it remains one of our favorite memories of our trip to date (now 16 months later). A few things stand out: how beautiful the area was; our friendship with Greg Bailey; learning to cast net fish; learning to de-vein and de-head fish; learning to fillet fish; and our nightly Little Daddy fryer meals.
The first night we arrived, we got our showers and laundry done, and by that time we could barely walk. We more or less limped back to our new campsite, where Greg waited, puttering around doing his thing. He said he’d been fishing, and asked if we’d like to join him for dinner. That was a no-brainer, since we were so tired, and since our stove had been totally unpredictable. To this day we have no memory of dinner that night, but we do remember having a nice cold beer, and we remember Greg asking if we’d like to go cast net fishing with him after dinner.
Chelsea turned out to be a natural. She could fling that net right out there, as gracefully as could be, and have it land in the water just right. I was totally intimidated; and hated having to go after her. How do you follow an act like that? I, on the other hand, was not a natural. Greg worked with me patiently, but after I got his net snarled around the pier twice, I decided to quit while I was ahead. That night however started a love affair between Chelsea and cast net fishing.
We stayed five days at Goose Creek Campground, and they took on a lovely pattern. I would work all day on the website (our ‘job’) and Chelsea would head out with Greg to cast net fish. They’d tear me away occasionally, but for the most part I was ‘heads down’, working like mad to get ahead of things so we could relax the next week or so.
The work was tiring and frustrating, as the project manager would pressure me for results, but when I’d log on, I’d find out that he hadn’t even looked at the work we’d done to date. We also weren’t getting paid, and that was getting worrisome. He’d delayed our pay in Savannah, causing big difficulties for us, and he was late again in paying us, causing more difficulties. That lent a definite strain to my days.
Greg was fun to talk things over with, as he’d been working with computer networks for years with the state of North Carolina. Greg had recently retired (young, he couldn’t have been more than 50) and was more or less “hanging out”. He’d been divorced reasonably recently, without custody of his kids, and wanted to spend as much time with his two boys as he could. He’s really bright and experienced, and it was a relief to be able to vent my frustrations and get suggestions from him.
Greg is also a self-professed ‘gear-head’, and that was another thing we loved to talk about – gear. He had a hammock that he swore by, and he showed us a small stove made of aluminum cans and fueled by denatured alcohol. We were really intrigued, as our stove was nearly useless, and we had fun having him teach us how to work it. He also had a titanium pot that was small, but big enough to cook a one-person meal in – I’d had my eye on it for months in the REI catalogue. I loved having a chance to see it in person, and see how it really worked. Greg had just gotten it, and this was his first time of using it. We all agreed it was a keeper.
The second night, we had fish we fried over Greg’s stove. We cut up potatoes and had french fries; we hung around and talked; and then headed over to the dock for more cast net fishing in the dark.
Day three followed the pattern, except this time Greg disappeared for awhile before dinner. He came back proud as could be, with a Little Daddy fryer. We used our extension cord, and while I cut and peeled the sweet potatoes, Chelsea and Greg de-headed and de-veined the shrimp they’d caught that day, and filleted the fish. We had a wonderful meal of fish, shrimp and sweet potato fries, accompanied by whatever fun beer Greg had chosen.
The next few days were the same – fishing and working during the day, fish and sweet potato fries for dinner, prepping whatever the catch was for the day, accompanied by a great beer or two, and great conversation. Somehow those memories have stuck with us as some of the best we’ve had.
The last couple of days were even more fun – one day Greg took us in to see Fort Macon. We got to see the beach where Blackbeard marooned his crews after one of his raids, and Greg took us on a short driving tour of the area. The last day we were in Bogue Sound, Greg took us in to the grocery store so we could get some supplies for our next leg of the trip. The store was amazing – it was like a combination of Albertson’s and Whole Foods. We got some incredible bread and cheeses, and we got great snack mixes. We wanted a small bottle of wine, but it was Sunday, and stores couldn’t sell liquor before noon. While we waited till noon, Greg took us down a few stores and we had a real honest-to-heaven café mocha. What a day!
We left Bogue Sound reluctantly, but knowing we wanted the adventure ahead of us. We hugged our new friend goodbye, and he gave us a few parting gifts…the denatured alcohol stove, and 3 dehydrated backpackers meals. We loved the stove and the meals, and we saved each meal until we absolutely needed it beyond any doubt. It was always in a tough circumstance, and we got to remember Greg all over again, and remember the fun we had.