Hatteras Island is one of those places dramatic without the influence of man. This afternoon we parked our car near the historic and lovely spiral-striped lighthouse and walked a few miles up the beach to a narrow finger of land protruding into a violet ocean. Made only of sand, the point is there only at the will of the sea. Here the Gulf Stream pushes hard by the point and the returning Newfoundland Current (or eddy) meet. Waves break on both sides of the peninsula and along a line extending another quarter mile out to sea. The surrounding ocean is turbulent with long streaks of brown. The energy extends for miles out to the Diamond Shoals where another light rises above a great platform to warn mariners of this ominous region. Good thing we think, but our captain told us yesterday that the lights might be abandoned completely within a few years. That would save a few dollars, but what would happen if the GIS system that keep ships on course were to fail? Our crossing to Hatteras Island was uneventful and the weather was good. We crossed the swamps and marshes of the Alligator River National Wildlife Refuge and across the bay to the barrier islands at Manteo. As we checked in at the campground, our host, an astronomy buff, suggested we look south for the space shuttle blast off. We did, but the sky was too bright to make out the vapor trail. The weather was splendid with bright sunshine and a temperature of 65 degrees. We arrived a day early because our captain called to tell us that with gales forecast for today, he wanted to move the trip up to Friday. So, at 6:00 a.m. we were at the dock. The boat pushed off about 7:00 a.m. and bounced nicely through the Hatteras Inlet and into the Atlantic. Venus and Jupiter were setting in conjunction as the sky brightened. A crewmember shoveled chum off the stern and gulls and gannets began to gather around us. We rolled toward the Gulf Stream and began a lookout for pelagic birds. Some sixteen passengers wore great optics; a few carried cameras with long lenses. We followed the meeting of waters where the green flow from the north ran on one side and the blue current from the south on the other. We ah’ed for dovekies and ooh’ed for gannets and razorbills. We admired a loggerhead turtle floating high in the blue water and a giant ocean sunfish swimming horizontally just below the surface. We followed fishing boats whose efforts provided a bonanza for thousands of gulls and gannets. The latter dove for scraps from thirty feet in the air, many at a time. The lines of splashes seemed a result of gunfire. The birds crashed violently into the sea, yet shortly returned to the surface contentedly munching and swallowing their catch. The trip ran some twelve hours and the wind picked up as we returned the thirty miles back to the inlet. The seas built to five to eight feet and most of us retreated to the cabin as the deck became drenched with sea water. The sun set and darkness returned as we reached the dock. We returned to the motor home for dinner and relaxed after a great day on the water. We plan to stay here until next Sunday and make one more pelagic bird cruise next Saturday. Meanwhile we are enjoying the beach, the marshes behind the cape, and the small woods on the National Seashore. A few cold nights are forecast, but the weather is great for birding and walking. No bugs on Cape Hatteras in February.