We woke up early and shook off the cobwebs. That morning was going to be the start of a three-day, tightly strung travel binge. We loaded LB’s truck and threw the bike and trailer in the back. It was about a two and a half hour ride to Stumpy Point, and it was also the beginning of my next few days of real structured timing.

Everyday, my only goal is to make it to the next destination by sundown–I’ve become more scared of the dark than Will Smith in I Am Legend. There’s also no more twilight like you’d find in the summer. It’s like someone flips a switch and in about ten minutes, it’s dark. I’m not a fan of riding in the dark, no matter how many lights I have going, and setting up camp in pitch black is never good. I can’t tell you how many times I have woken up to notice I had set my tent up on the only patch of rocky ground full of sharp sticks on the whole site, and that never leads to a good day on the bike.

With that said, I needed to make the early ferry from Stumpy Point to Rodanthe in order to make it by sundown to Hatteras. Although we hadn’t allotted ourselves too much time, we were able to take the scenic route and land a quick breakfast. LB also gave me the low-down on each surf shop we passed, and I got quick tours of places like Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills, and Nags Head. Quick tours are much easier in a car. I thought it would be cool to try and ride my bike and trailer over the hill that the Wright brothers used, but we didn’t have enough time, and voluntarily putting sand in the gears is not the brightest move.

We got to Stumpy Point just in time. The line of cars onto the ferry had just started moving, and we quickly swung off to the side to unload. The guy at the gate was hurrying us along, and I had to hitch up the trailer and say my goodbyes. As you’d expect, whenever I need to hitch up fast, it takes forever. Then I really had to go, so I started hustling my gear down the way.

I got to the entrance of the ferry with a little time to spare. I parked my bike by the port-a-potties (genius), and stretched a little. Then I thought about how I’d be taking so many awesome pictures on this leg of the trip. Then I thought about how my GoPro camera was in my backpack. Then I realized that I had left my backpack in the backseat of LB’s truck. We unloaded so fast that I totally forgot it. When everything is loaded up, I only need to remember 3 things: my bike, my trailer, and my backpack. Impressive, Matthew.

I tried to call LB multiple times but I had no service. Then, I started running down the road to see if I could catch him before he was out of sight. Too late. Then, because I always think I’m in the movie, The Truman Show, I thought how movie-esque it would be to see him flying around the corner at the last second to drop off my bag. That didn’t happen either. Unbelievable.

Needless to say, I entered the ferry a little stressed. That bag had all the important little stuff: toothbrush, toothpaste, cough medicine, phone chargers, all of the maps I used for routing, iPad for writing, camera, riding food, and my knife. Not only was I not going to be able to get a lot of good shots of my trip on the OBX, but if my phone died and I couldn’t tell my dearest mother I was okay, the world might actually end before 12/12/12.

I met a girl, Jenna, on the ferry over who had done a bike tour of Europe. She was super sweet, and even though I came off a little stressed due to my latest mental error, she was very supportive and told me I’d be okay. She even charged my phone in her car on the way to Rodanthe.

It was absolutely beautiful out, and I sat down to soak in some rays. The ferry ride was pretty uneventful, especially at the end when we had to sit outside our port for half an hour to wait for another ferry to move out of the way.

This meant that I had a little over two hours to get the 35 miles from Rodanthe to Hatteras. I swung by the only gas station to see if they had a phone charger, but they didn’t. And after about five more stops at various stores on the way, I realized places like that were nowhere to be found on these islands–I couldn’t tell you how many cute little inns there were, or how many seafood places that have the “best fish around,” but if you are in need of some electronics, dream on. Any other time, I would have loved that about this area, but the dread of my freshest mistake overwhelmed the joy of isolation. I was looking at potentially three days off one charge, and without any of my maps, my phone was going to have to be my navigation system, as well.

Then I realized I had about two hours to get the last 30 miles before sundown. I put my head down and charged. Light winds and flat roads helped, but it’s amazing what a two and half hour car ride followed by a three hour ferry ride will take out of you.

The afternoon was beautiful. Of course, I didn’t have time to pull over and take pictures with my phone. But I’ve got ’em all in my head, although that doesn’t really help.

In between the little towns, the ride was pretty much the same sandspit on one side and marshy outcrops on the other. Every so often, I would come across piles of soaked driftwood, fallen trees, furniture, and other household items. But outside of that, the towns looked okay from Sandy. The roads weren’t too torn up, but the little shoulder had a good amount of sand in it, so I stuck to the road. The few cars that passed didn’t seem to mind.

I made it to Hatteras just as the sun was setting. I swung by a spot that looked out onto the sound, and snapped a few. I had decided to get a motel that night because the next morning I had to get up super early to make a ferry and figured I’d save a lot of time not having to break down camp in the morning.

I also lucked out. The lady who worked at the women’s boutique nextdoor to my motel had a phone charger, and she said I could use it all night. I was really thinking about buying something there as a thank you, but nothing was in my size. Weird. I was able to do a bunch of research for my rides with my phone plugged in, and then I hit the hay.