Dulcie is obviously getting frustrated in the absence of Interstates: she played one of her pranks on me this morning. I asked her last night how long it would take to get to the ferry, and she said two hours and forty minutes (well, actually, she's a bit like Data in StarTrek, she said 2h38m). So I allowed myself three hours, and even then, got started fifteen minutes early.
After a few miles, when I'd got clear of Wilmington, I noticed she was calmly forecasting our arrival 20 minutes after the gate closed. So I did some mental arithmetic and worked out I had to exceed the speed limit by about 5 to 10%. So I did. But it means having to concentrate much more, and look out for patrol cars, some of which are unmarked hereabouts. I'm fortunate to be able to follow a sheriff's deputy for a fair bit of the way, and he's doing what I'm doing. Unfortunately, after quite a while, he comes up behind another driver, who then has no option but to drop a bit below the limit. I just have to take that on the chin. But we're getting close, and it's becoming clear that Dulcie's been lying. I interrogate her carefully, and it turns out she's added the ferry route to the time calculation, but not at ferry speed (I'd have noticed that). When we got to the terminal, her advice was "board ferry", so she knew. If I'd got a speeding ticket, I'd have made her pay.
The Ocracoke ferry is called the Silver Lake. The journey takes about two-and-a-half hours (it's slightly further than Dover-Calais), and the weather is so clear I'm worried about sunburn.
To get from Ocracoke to Hatteras there is a 20-minute free ferry which runs every hour. As I come in sight of the terminal, the attendant starts to wave furiously. I manage to race straight on, and it promptly leaves. It's still lovely and sunny. This is an ocean inlet, and I reckon, technically, we get into the Atlantic, 'cos the water changes abruptly from brown to blue. I can see ocean breakers in the inlet.
And, as if on cue, a dense sea fog descends. I hope they have radar. They certainly have a large horn. So does the ferry coming the other way. We get quite close, because the channel, which is marked, is really quite narrow. The markers are just too far apart to see ahead and astern at the same time. I expect they enjoy playing this little prank on the landlubbers: keeps the old adrenaline flowing. I'm reminded that this is the place where the British Navy got Blackbeard. I expect that's why the Coast Guard are lurking about in the fog.
[n1411] It is a great relief to get back on solid ground. But there is a lot of sand and water on the ground. Either there's been a lot of rain, or the ocean has been invading. Negotiating these pools (negotiating? Hah! I'm just following the man in front) takes out one of Silver's tires. A rear tire: now how did that happen?
Unfortunately, I've just had a long phone conversation, and I'm out of battery. So I have to do a tire change myself. Actually, I'm sure that was much quicker than waiting for help, although two passing drivers, young and fit, stopped to see if I needed help. The spare is one of those 'donut' emergency tires, so I shall have to get a fix quite quickly, which is a nuisance, because I don't want to stop anywhere for too long. Needless to say, the rental company office is closed till Monday.
Later that night, I find myself in rather a posh bar, so I treate myself to a steak. It's not just the servants who can misbehave!
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