Birding on the beach is often a relaxed affair and, if sunscreen is not neglected, usually without significant adventure.  Even as I write this I am reminded of watching out for polar bears on the coast at Churchill, Manitoba and of a windchill at Barnegat Light, NJ that drove us off despite a multitude of layers one fine winter day.  Still, usually birding the beach means little more than slogging a bit through the sand and scanning the shore and waves.  There is usually little danger of getting lost, being mauled, or sliding down a cliff.

So, having arrived at Frisco Campground on Cape Hatteras a day early for a pelagic birding boat trip with Brian Patteson and not wanting to drive anywhere after a ten-hour journey from Cherokee, NC the day before, we decided to make an easy walk along the beach.  From earlier visits we knew of a trail that connected through the “Buxton Woods” to the road near the Cape Point Campground.  I thought it was about three miles long and that we could complete a trek on this sand trail and reach that campground in the cool of the morning.  We would carry only a liter of water and refill there.  We might then walk out to the Cape Point and follow the beach back to Frisco.  Easy.

The walk started off well enough.  The coastal woods were lovely and we saw or heard most of the resident birds including a bright summer tanager.  Then soft sand made the walk more difficult.  Much worse, in places the trail was overgrown and the grass remained damp.  We had not dressed to avoid chiggers and ticks.  Not only did the trail deteriorate but after a time we noticed a mile marker No. 4.  When we saw No. 3, we realized that the walk to Cape Point would be longer than expected.  Still, we are hikers, and could manage it.  I knew we could shorten the walk by finding a short cut back to the beach and not go to the very point.  This option disappointed me because Cape Point is a highlight of this seashore, but I knew Anne was not up for a twelve-mile hike.  We had not packed lunch.  Still, I thought it would be about a six-mile walk to the Cape Point Campground and three or four more miles back along the beach.  We would ask a ranger at the campground for the shortest path. 

We came out to the road and walked toward the campground and the point.  There was no obvious source of water along the road.  As it turned out we passed a ranger station, but there was no sign and we didn’t recognize it.  We turned in at the campground.  Anne was upset because we would have to walk back out.  I said it was not far to the kiosk and water.  This was true, but we found the campground nearly abandoned.  There were campers, but not in the first two loops.  Worse, there were no rangers.  The camping was “self-serve.”  This was disappointing but we had walked the roads around the Cape before and I thought I could lead us through.  We found a water spigot, drank well and filled the canteen for a shorter return trip.

We walked back to the road and came to the first junction.  I said we should keep right and the road would take us out south of the Cape Point.  Anne agreed to this plan.  She was “ready” to get back to camp.  At the second “Y” the road was marked ‘closed to vehicles’ but indicated a course to “South Beach.”  I was relieved that my memory was confirmed.  We continued.  The road was soft and the walking was difficult, but we made good time.  I commented that we had made a trade off.  The walking would have been easier along the sweet patch at the edge of the moist sand on the beach, but we were reducing the length of our walk by at least a few miles. 

The walk while difficult was not unpleasant.  We were serenaded by catbirds and yellowthroats.  The side roads across the marsh were now closed for bird breeding, but we would take this open road back to the beach.  The distance was about two miles.  Once on the beach, we would probably have another two miles to Frisco Campground. 

The road at last passed through a dune and turned out to the beach.  There we saw a wire across it and a sign saying “Closed.”  We were unhappily surprised and studied our situation.  Our canteen was half full.  The walk back to Cape Point would be difficult.  The walk back to Frisco by the route we took would be impractical to say the least.  Anne said simply she could not do it.  We would have to continue.  I didn’t like the idea, but thought the closure was just of the area behind the beach.  We would have to “sneak across” to the beach.  There might be some nesting birds in the road.  If so we would go around them to avoid disturbance. It was either that course or an ordeal.

We walked out of the dunes.  We saw oystercatchers with young to our left.  We kept right and reached the waters edge.  I was surprised to see no one along the beach.  Incredible as it seemed, I the whole beach seemed to be closed.  This made no sense, but we had no choice but to continue.  A single track indicated passage of a patrol vehicle.  The distance to Frisco appeared to be about two miles.  We were good for a safe return.  We might be stopped when we came out and would have to explain our predicament.  Unfortunate, but unavoidable. 

The walk remained pleasant, but we were anxious and tired.  We nursed our water.  We saw least terns nesting in the dunes inland of our path and sanderlings early returned from the north at the edge of the surf.  Now we were coming close to the beachcomers and beachbuggies.  But, as we approached the line, we saw a single vehicle driving towards us.  Of course it was a ranger. 

Actually it was the bird biologist and an intern.  She asked if we knew we were on a closed beach.  I said that I had figured that out, and that we had been forced out to avoid an emergency.  I said we were walking between the tide marks to avoid disturbing wildlife.  She said we could not continue on this path because there were nesting birds ahead.  I knew there were no nests along the tide line, but knew better than to argue. 

So, we took a long ride back to Cape Point.  The good was that we saw parts of the beach that we would not otherwise have been able to access.  The bad was that we were exhausted and needed to return to camp to clean up and refresh after some eight miles of walking.  We were taken to the ranger station.  We were informed that the sign had blown away.  That is why we didn’t recognize it.  We were also told that the kiosk at the campground had burned.  That is why there was no ranger at the campground.  At the ranger station we were transferred to the turtle biologist’s truck. 

We sat there and waited for the “enforcement officer.”  He asked for our story, which was briefly given.  Then he lectured us.  He told us he could prosecute and we would be fined $150 each, but he didn’t have time.  He said the closings were serious, etc. etc.  We listened quietly with exhaustion.  There was little to say really.  We had walked eight miles and needed to complete the loop to survive or at least prevent a crisis.  We had looked for assistance in selecting a route but had found none.  It never occurred to us that the beach itself would be closed on a “National Seashore.”  We had no warning until we had gone too far.  Only later would we read of the consent decree, the beach closings, and the controversy.

Finally, we were given a ride back to our campground at Frisco.  This time a discussion of turtle nesting at the Cape eased what seemed to be an interminable drive.  Still, it was just Noon when were arrived back at our camp.  We had started our “easy morning stroll” about six a.m. and had almost completed an inward spiral on foot before it was interrupted.   Then we made a much larger outward spiral by vehicles back again.  We munched our lunch decided on a retreat from the afternoon heat to a movie matinee.  Only that night did we discover that the overgrown trail had indeed been infested with chiggers.  Unable to clean up soon enough, we were well bitten. 

We thought that evening too of the time on Hatteras when someone tried to climb into our tent.  We decided that Hatteras, despite its beauty, has never been a good place for us.  We may still return for its charms, but we will always view it with suspicion. 

I didn’t think much of the closed beach when we were on it, but afterwards concluded that closing the intertidal zone to foot traffic is a case of bad regulation that ill benefits conservation.  It might provide slight benefit to brooding shorebirds, but alienates their conservation to the beachgoing public that must support it to achieve their survival.  We loose so much of our beach life to development, must we now give up seeing the rest because we might disturb it?  Can these birds that nest on our roofs and just behind the beach and have tolerated our presence for so long no longer put up with us?  I shake my head and move on?  There are still other places to go.