LINDA gets off to a really "refreshing" start today with a cold shower at the campground (I chose to abstain). While showering, she notices the welts on her leg. It seems that yesterday, while walking in Ocracoke, something ran up Linda's leg and bit her three or four times. She didn't think much about it then, except that it startled her. Today the bites are itching badly, so the first thing we do after breaking camp is stop and get her some Solarcaine. It works, but she will spend the next couple of days spraying her leg every few minutes. Every vacation must have at least one health-related problem, and this is the only one for this trip.

WE VISIT THE Cape Hatteras Lighthouse, and I wade out into the ocean. The water is not cold, but I couldn't get Linda to come in. I also climbed up a sand dune to take a few pictures.

The drive to the north end of Hatteras Island is uneventful. Most of the area is part of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, so it isn't developed; just miles of lovely shoreline and salt marshes. At the north end of the island we cross the Herbert C. Bonner Bridge to Bodie Island and visit the Bodie Lighthouse. Each of the lighthouses along the Outer Banks is individually marked for easy recognition at a long distance. The Ocracoke lighthouse was all white, but it was located in a harbor village. The Cape Hatteras lighthouse, which stands alone on a point, is black and white striped with a distinctive "barber pole" pattern. The lighthouse at Bodie is also painted with bold black and white stripes, but these are are in the form of horizontal rings.  By the way, these are working lighthouses, and they do not offer tours to the public, but they are beautiful to look at.

Leaving the Bodie lighthouse we drive up the island, stopping at several beaches to look at the wreckage of various ships that have met their fate at the "Graveyard of the Atlantic".  This area is called that because of the more than 600 ships that have wrecked here, victims of shallow shoals, storms, and war. Diamond Shoals, a bank of shifting sand ridges hidden beneath a turbulent sea off Cape Hatteras, has never promised safe passage for any ship. But seafarers often risked the shoals to take advantage of north or south flowing currents that passed nearby. Many never reached their destination. Fierce winter nor'easters and tropical-born hurricanes drove many ships aground, such as the Laura A. Barnes, a schooner wrecked here in 1921. Other ships were lost in wars. During World War II German submarines sank so many Allied tankers and cargo ships here that these waters earned a second sobering name -- Torpedo Junction. In the past 400 years the graveyard has claimed many lives. But many were saved by island villagers. As early as the 1870s villagers served as members of the U.S. Life Saving Service. Others manned lighthouses built to guide mariners. Later, when the U.S. Coast Guard became the guardian of the nation's shores, many residents joined its ranks. When rescue attempts failed, villagers buried the dead and salvaged shipwreck remains. Today, few ships wreck, but storms still uncover the ruins of old wrecks that lie along the beaches of the Outer Banks.

Not too far from the site of these shipwrecks, we take a side trip west to Roanoke Island. Here, in 1587, Fort Raleigh, the first English colony in the New World, was founded. It was not successful, and all of the colonists disappeared, leaving no trace. They have become known as the Lost Colony. No further attempt was made to colonize the New World until 1603, when Jamestown, Virginia was founded. There is a visitor center here, with a good film of the story, and one can walk around where the fort had been. There are only the ruins of the earthworks here, and even they are reproductions, but we feel it is interesting and worth the time to see it.

After returning to Bodie Island, we have lunch at the Ebbtide Restaurant in Kittyhawk. We eat popcorn shrimp, soft-shell crabs, and, of course, hush-puppies (for what turns out to be the last time).

We stop for awhile at Kill Devil Hill where the Wright brothers flew the first heavier-than-air airplane (not at Kitty Hawk: that was simply the nearest community at the time). We see the monument and the reproduction of the original camp, and walk along the site of the first flights. In the museum is a full-scale reproduction of the original aircraft, which is interesting, but we have already seen the actual craft at the Smithsonian in Washington.

At this point, we have reached the end of the Cape Hatteras National Seashore, and from here north, the Outer Banks is much more developed. We leave the coastline at Nag's Head, driving west along Albermarle Sound toward Elizabeth, where we again turn north toward Virginia. As we drive, the woods around us grow thicker and darker, and after awhile I remark to Linda that this area sure is beginning to look very dark and dismal. No sooner do these words leave my mouth than Linda sees a sign indicating that we are entering... The Great Dismal Swamp!

Actually, this is only the southern end of the swamp, which is mostly in Virginia. Later this afternoon, after crossing from North Carolina into Virginia, we drive through a larger portion of it, and we stop at Washington's Ditch and walk along part of a wooden walkway through it. George Washington owned this part of the swamp, and he surveyed and built a canal here. Other than the extensive system of (practically new) wooden walkways (I walked over half a mile into the swamp before turning back), this area is very out-of-the-way. To reach it, we drive several miles down a small county road past farms, and to get back to the highway in the direction we were traveling we must drive for several miles with no hint of where were are or where the road is leading. We finally do arrive in a community, which turns out to be Suffolk, where we rejoin the highway we had been on before. Linda likes the aroma of Suffolk, which is heavy with the smell of peanut oil.

We have no reserved place to stay tonight, since we weren't sure just how far we'd get today. But after searching through the farmlands around Smithfield, it becomes apparent that our only choice is the EconoLodge in Benn's Church, not far away. EconoLodges seem to vary widely in quality, but we are again lucky in that this is another very nice one. It is late (around 7:00) and we want to be able to have dinner tonight at the Smithfield Inn & Tavern in Smithfield, so I immediately phoned for reservations and directions, and we quickly get cleaned up and dressed. We get there in plenty of time and have a pleasant dinner in the old inn. We have been anticipating this meal since long before the trip, because this is the place where we are going to experience a gourmet treat: an authentic Smithfield Ham Dinner. The ambiance of the restaurant is excellent. The service is terrific. Smithfield ham, on the other hand, is perfectly dreadful. Unbelieveably strong and salty (Linda says she thinks they should have called it "Morton Ham"), served as a thick stack of paper-thin slices, it reminds John of chipped beef. It is the sort of thing one should try, because it is world-renowned. But we would never want to have it again. The restaurant is first-rate, however, and the pecan pie for dessert is super. The owner of the inn comes to our table and talks with us for awhile.