We came across this great post written by Andy Thompson of the Richmond Times Dispatch about a recent trip to Corolla and what he discovered on a rainy day at the beach. It seems like it has been raining for about 2 weeks straight here in the OBX. Its been a drag to say the least, but props to Andy for making another rainy day into an awesome adventure. Its funny because living here you don’t always appreciate the beauty and nature around you because you get busy and caught up in the daily hustle and bustle. The best part about reading articles like this is you realize that you have a lot to share with people who come visit the Outer Banks as a local but they also share a lot of great things with you.

Read along as Andy discovers a little patch of paradise…

“I love rainy days at the beach. Not a lot of them, mind you, just one or two in a week. I know this is heresy for the sun worshippers who can lounge all day in the sand with nothing but a cold beverage and a tube of Banana Boat.

That’s just not me. By the second or third day of swelter, I’m looking over the dunes for a little adventure, but that doesn’t always do well with the group (we all know how intricate vacation politics can be). Rainy days give me an excuse to explore.

Today is one of those days. A stiff breeze has been blowing in off the ocean since last night. The “No Swimming” flags are out. It’s spitting off and on, but not pouring. Perfect conditions to swap the bathing trunks for hiking boots and see what else this coastal village has to offer.

Our group of five bikes north on Route 12 in search of a place we discovered five years ago, the last time we stayed this far north on the Outer Banks (the Virginia border is just 10 miles away). Here it is: a small parking lot and trailhead sign belying the otherworldliness of what lies beyond.

Where are we? The Currituck Banks National Estuarine Research Reserve (CBNERR), an ecologically rare 965 acres of maritime forest, brackish and freshwater marshes and intertidal dunes administered by the North Carolina Coastal Reserve Program.

This patch of green is sandwiched between Route 12 and Currituck Sound.

Land owned by The Nature Conservancy and the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service to its north makes it feel bigger, more secluded. This is where the famed wild horses of the region roam.

It would be nice to see them, and many come here for that reason, but there’s plenty more to recommend the CBNERR. We start off walking on a raised platform, skirting live oaks and loblolly pines, stopping to read information kiosks. We could continue on the one-third-mile path to its terminus at the shallow sound, but instead we hop off the platform and onto a sandy trail that winds three-quarters of a mile to a different part of the sound.

The tortured trunks of live oaks twist in every direction. Sandy swales suggest this area, probably not too long ago, was dunes exposed to sea spray, wind and ocean wash. As the barrier island shifted, new dunes were deposited in front of old ones and areas such as this were protected long enough to be colonized by maritime forest plants.

Walking here is like entering a house with low ceilings. Trees here know what many trees in Richmond recently learned the hard way, that to grow tall is to risk death with every hurricane season. Even the pines in this forest look like strange dwarves.

Along the trail we pass horse dung but no horses. We make it to the sound and then back to the platform trail. We pick up where we left off and head west.

Though not far from the sandy trail, we soon enter an entirely different ecosystem. The swamp forest is full of plant species that thrive on mucky soil and intermittently wet conditions: red maples, sweet gums, swap black gums, wax myrtle, red bay, Muscadine grape vines, royal ferns and sedges all make their home here.

So, too, do water moccasins, and near the end of the trail, we spot one. It’s maybe 2 1/2 feet long, just sitting there a foot from the platform. The high temperature today is around 68, not exactly warm for the cold-blooded. Maybe that’s why he seems so lethargic and uninterested in us.

It’s not a horse sighting, but it’s probably more appropriate for the world we’re exploring. The horses, of course, are exotics. The snakes and foxes and deer and rabbits that make their homes here have done so for much longer — constantly evolving, adapting to a sometimes-harsh, always dynamic environment.

It’s an environment that has become increasingly rare on our built-up, super-populated East Coast. And it’s one worth spending some time getting to know, whether or not a rainy day gives us an excuse.”