Shell Island
Very early on Friday morning, August 15, Janet, Gracie and I drove to Shell Island at the north end of Wrightsville Beach, NC. Shell Island used to be a real barrier island, but a couple decades ago a hurricane shifted the sand, filled in the southern channel, and made it a peninsula.
We got up at 6 a.m., before day light, because we did not want to go to just any beach. For several years, a few years ago, Janet frequently brought Gracie to Shell Island to play in the surf on the ocean side, and sim in the channels on the estuary side. Now, after a few years of missing it, she wanted to come back.
But now, there has been so much tourist growth and beach house growth, that the last several times we came here, every public beach access parking lot on the north end of Wrightsville Beach island was full, with a couple cars waiting in line, at 6:30 a.m., on a weekend. Most of the beach goers were surfers and stand-up-paddle boarders. This time we went on a week day to see if our luck would be better.
We went to the northern most parking lot at the end of the road, [strangely labeled Lot #2, instead of Lot #1] and it was already 90% full. This lot is the most popular in the area, because it has a nice bath house with an outdoor shower, and the breach is the least crowded. We just squeezed in before several more cars showed up.
The weather was over cast and somewhat dreary looking, but at least we had a break from the nearly non-stop rain of the last couple weeks. We walked north up the beach with Gracie playing in the surf and chasing sea shells. Technically that was illegal, since dogs are banned from the Wrightsville Beach shores all spring, summer, and fall, even on a leash. Fortunately, a town employee drove past and did not give us a citation. Rather, he warned us that another employee who would give us a citation was coming at 8 a.m.
We made it to the north end of the beach and looked across the inlet to the big, expensive houses on Figure Eight Island. Janet considered walking westward around the end of the peninsula and southward following a path through the estuary back to our parking lot, which she used to do. No go. Now there were signs saying Private Property and No Trespassing blocking paths through the estuary. Bummer. I though the estuaries are public places, like the beaches, so I don’t see how they can be marked No Trespassing. So, we walked back down the beach at 7:50 a.m.
