Chapter Five

     Tall and slender with shoulder length light brown hair Mary is a good hearted woman with good lines.  Understanding and forgiving with an inviting warmth.  Supportive and approachable.  No pretense.  Steady, sure in her vision and confident in her values.  Glasses without pretense.  Rooted, loyal optimistic.  

 She was a force of nature.  She had a plan, a vision from as early as she could remember.  She saw herself with her home and family years into the future.  Three kid and a dog.  Sunday school and Saturdays at the park.  Baseball leagues for the boys and 4H raising chickens for the girls.   She would be a stay at home mom and return to work when all the kids were in school.  It was her vision and it would all happen in Eden.  The town where she grew up.  Where her parents and grandparents lived.  Maybe even in Nana’s house.  A stone house built in the 1920’s with hard wood floors, a grand stone fireplace and bay windows looking out over the hay fields that surrounded the town.

It had all come true just as she had seen it.  She met Ted in high school. They both attended a local community college and found they had classes together.  Traveling in the same circle of friends, it wasn’t long before he caught her eye.  She decided that he was the one and Ted never knew what hit him.  Once she made up her mind, she would not be denied.  She smiled her smile, laughed at his jokes, made it a point to be around when he was around.  She asked him for help studying even though she was a better student than he was.  She listened intently as he explained the course work and before he knew it, they were an item.  

It was a April wedding in the church where she was baptized, with a reception following at the Fellowship Hall.  The same church her where her parents had wed.  Where she took her first communion.  Her roots were deep in Eden and she was going to build her life here.   Babies came as the years rolled by.  It was all going as planned.  At first she was concerned when Ted went into law enforcement.  She worried that he would get hurt, that he would harden with the demands of the job.  Ted surprised her as Eden became his extended family.  He was more like Andy Griffith than Clint Eastwood.  

Her roll as the sheriff’s wife came with burdens and responsibilities.  She was active in the community and anytime someone’s son would run afoul of the law, their mother would come to her with plea of leniency.  “My boy is a good boy.  It didn’t really mean any harm.”   Were the standard approaches.  She had learn that her roll was to reassure the mother.  Everything would be okay.  Rarely if ever was jail time ever an issue.  The worst case was probation and community service.  She was understanding and supportive.  She empathized with their heartache.  She calmed their fears and explained the process.  She could have been a family counselor.

Terry's passing shook Mary to her core.  “It is the end of the world as we know it.”  Mary murmured, mostly to herself—but loud enough for Ted to hear.

“What do you mean?”  Ted asked

“Thing will never be the same.” She said softly.

“What things?  Ted pressed.

“Everything.”  Mary’s voice was firm, yet weary.  

“Who will keep the history of this place.  Some developer will buy the Neilson house, divide up the land, and sell hobby farm to rich people in Atlanta and Charlotte.  That house has stood for over a century. Terry’s great-grandfather built it with his own hands. Generations grew up there—babies took their first breaths, old folks drew their last. And now? Some developer will tear it down or gut it, wiping away every memory, every story, as if they never existed.”

“You can’t stop progress.”  Ted said, but even as the words left his mouth, they felt hollow. 

“That’s not progress.  It’s erasure. Our culture matters. Our values deserve protection.”  I understand people want to make money.  But can they recreate the years of history that this valley has witnessed?
   Once we start down that road, we can never get it back. 

“ In no time at all, the old residents will be outnumbered by the new.  They will control the direction the county takes.  They will decide whether the mountains are carved up with roads and houses built all along the ridges.  They will decide what kind of stores move here, what kind of restaurants open in the area. “

Ted shifted back and forth as he listened.  He knew she was right.

“What can we do?”  He asked.  “The children of the long time residents move away when they are old enough.  The old way of life is dying from attrition and there in nothing to be done about it.” 

“Should we just let that go,  just so some rich people can have a second home.”   Mary’s face was long and her lips were thin and quivering.  She avoided looking in Ted’s eyes and focused off in the distance.  She was seeing the future and it broke her heart.  The home she had live in and loved all her life was dying and there was no stopping it.

Ted searched for something—anything—to give Mary hope. A promise. A reassurance. But there were no words. Only silence. They sat in silence, holding each other.  Mary turned and rested her head Ted’s shoulder as he pulled her closer, meeting her embrace, cradling her in his arms.  Ted held her close, but he knew—there was no shelter from the storm ahead. No way to stop the tears or the loss waiting just over the horizon. 

Chapter Four

 Tragedy has a way of gripping a small town. News travels fast, whispers turn into headlines, and suddenly, everyone has a story to tell. 

In a small town, where life moves slow and days blend together, even the smallest tragedy feels monumental.  In small towns, people claim to know one another—at least well enough to talk about each other. 

Terry’s death made the front page of the local paper, her senior yearbook photo staring out from the article—a face frozen in time, full of promise.”  

 The article provided few details, offering instead a brief biography of Terry—who she was, where she’d been, but not why she was gone.  The article conclude with  "The police are investigating and the corners report is pending."  At the bottom of the page, a notice listed the details of Terry’s funeral. A service at Beacon of Hope Baptist Church. Burial at Tranquility Ridge Cemetery. A reception for family and friends to follow. Another name, another date, another farewell. 

Perched on a gentle rise overlooking Eden, the Beacon of Hope Baptist Church stood simple and unadorned. Built in 1885, its white ship-lap siding and steep gabled roof had weathered over a century of sermons, weddings, and funerals. The floors were covered with wide southern pine planks, from the old growth forest that once covered the hills and valleys nearby.  The rafters were left exposed and the underside of the roof was painted white. 

 Originally built without a spire, the church had planned to add a tower in time. Until then, the bell sat on a five-foot brick stand near the entrance. Years later, when the spire was finally erected, the congregation had grown accustomed to the bell’s place and refused to move it. A bronze plaque was eventually affixed to its base, a silent testament to the town’s traditions. 

The spruce pews that filled the nave were worn and rippled as the hard winter rings stood proud of the soft summer growth from years of members sliding in and out of their seats.  A simple wooded pulpit stood to the left on the raised alter and the baptismal was next to the front door.  

The Lancet windows were the only luxury in the church.  These stained glass windows colored the light that fell on the spruce pews and pine floors. They were purchased at the bequest on a widowed mother who lost her only child in the Civil War and wanted a remembrance of his sacrifice.   It was a simple church built for a simple congregation. 

 Today another child was being delivered into the arm of the Almighty.  The House of the Lord was filled.  Some where family, some were friends and some were just curious.  The preacher talked about the better place that Terry was going to, a Paradise. He remember her life and extolled her qualities.  He gave what comfort he could to her family. 

 Tears fell, and for a moment, grief reminded them all—no one is promised tomorrow. In the quiet weight of loss, minds turned inward, sifting through regrets and unspoken words. Relationships were reconsidered, promises silently renewed. But in time, as always, life would move on, and these reflections would fade 

The service ended and the preacher announced the location of the interment.  

In Eden, the Sheriff’s Department always escorted funeral processions. It was a tradition Ted had carried on since his days as a Volunteer Deputy—one that most regular deputies preferred to avoid. But for Ted, it was more than just a duty; he had known most of the county’s residents and would have likely attended many of the funerals anyway. 

After becoming a regular deputy and then Sheriff, he continued the practice.  It was the only time outside of official Department events that Ted wore his dress uniform. The procession was one of the longest in recent memory.  The Sheriff lead the way while three other deputies controlled traffic and followed behind.   A short drive from the church, Tranquility Ridge Cemetery was just out of town and was the Neilsen’s family cemetery.   Terry was placed next to her father.  

After the interment the family received guest at the VFW hall.  Terry was from a well know family and that had lived many years in the county.  Her mother and sister returned to Eden to attend the funeral.  One by one, people stopped to offer their condolences and bid farewell to Mother Nielson. They all knew, though no one dared say it aloud, that this would likely be the last time they saw her. She had health problems and was living in the big city.  With the death of her child and her health, she would most likely never return.  

Ted thought to himself that this was a day that marked a change.  From this day forward the Neilson family would never again be residents of Eden.  He searched the crowd for his wife. Mary was standing next to the stage with his daughter Sara.  Ted looked at Sara and fought the tears that welled up in his eyes. This could have been Sara.  He caught Mary’s eye and she let herself smile at him.  Ted scanned the room, seeing fragments of his past in every familiar face. The friends he had grown up with. The man who sold him his first car. His barber, his banker. The girl he once loved—and the man who had stolen her away. 

 The next thing he knew, Mary was standing next to him and had her arm lock onto his.  She leaned into his side and grasp his hand in hers.  She gently squeezed his hand and whispered “I love you”.  

Mother Nielson said her goodbyes and gave hugs and thank yous to everyone that offered their condolences.  She was tired and weary from the ordeal of it all.  She excused herself and and left with her oldest daughter for the long trip back to the city.  People lingered and VFW’s bar open for service.  Mary and Sara had left and Ted followed shortly thereafter. 

On his way home, Ted’s thoughts turned dark. Had the person who gave Terry the drugs been someone local? Had they stood among the mourners today, blending in with the grief-stricken crowd? And would Eden ever truly return to normal?" 

Chapter Three

 Ted heard the cars coming up the gravel drive.  A patrol car and a sedan, followed by an ambulance.  Dr. Welborn walked into the room and acknowledge Ted.  “What do we have?”  he asked.

“Its Terry Nielson.”  Ted replied.  “She may have overdosed.”

Dr. Welborn walked around and to the head of the bed.  He didn’t have to do more than look to know that Terry was gone.   He felt for a pulse and found none.  On the night stand was an open prescription bottle.  Dr. Welborn recognized the prescription as being one that he had written several months ago.  Terry had been in an auto accident and suffered whiplash.  He had seen her a couple of times and after a month found her pain free and released her return to work.  

“I proscribed her pain pills three months ago when I saw her after an automobile accident.” He stated.  The thought that he was somehow responsible for her death intruded its way into his mind.  She had been his patients, he had proscribed the pills, and now she was dead and maybe from an overdose.  

Dr. Welborn bent over and looked into the opened bottle.  In the bottom he saw circular white pills.   ”Wait a second.” Dr. Welborn frowned. “These aren’t right.” He picked up the bottle, shaking it slightly. “I prescribed her oblong, yellow pills—marked 36 10. These… these are white and round. “

  “Somethings wrong.”  He stated.  “ These are not the pills that she got from me.”

“Do you recognize the what the pills are?  Are they Fentanyl?”  Ted asked.

“I have no idea.  They could be anything.”  Welborn replied.

Ted and Dr Welborn fell into the mechanics of the job.  Things needed to be done, procedures needed to be followed.  It was their job and they put aside their personal feelings.  After collecting evidence and taking pictures, the body was placed in a plastic bag.  Ted stood and watched as the zipper was closed and Terry’s face disappeared.  

On the drive back to Eden Ted’s thoughts were about Terry.  It was easy for him to imagine that it was his daughter, lying dead in that house.  They grew up together, they went to school together, had the same friends.  The weight of it all pressed down on him, suffocating. His hands trembled on the wheel as he veered onto the shoulder. The first sob hit him like a gut punch, then another. He buried his face in his hands and let go. For Terry. For her mother. For the town that was losing too many, too soon  

Ted struggle to compose himself. He had work to do.  Accidental overdose or murder—he wasn’t sure yet. But someone had given Terry those pills, and if they were illegal, that someone had blood on their hands 

 If the drugs were illegal, whoever supplied them could be held responsible for her death.  An investigation was required. The Coroner would do an autopsy to determine cause of death and a tox screen would be part of the process.  It could be weeks before the results were in.   He put the car in gear and headed back to Eden, back home.  

* * * 

“Honey, I’m home.” Ted calls out as he walks through his kitchen door.  

“In here.” Came from the den.  Mary appears in the kitchen and hugged Ted hello.

Mary infers from Ted manor and asked. “Rough day at the office?”

“Yeah… I went to check on Terry Neilson today. Found her in her bed. She was gone.” 

“My God, little Terry. What happened?”

“We don’t know for sure.  It may have been an overdose.  Dr. Welborn thinks the pills weren’t legit, but we won’t have confirmation for weeks.” 

“Have you told your daughters?

“No… every time I picked up the phone, I just… I couldn’t. It could’ve been one of them, Mary. It
could’ve been our girl lying in that bed.” 

“I know, I’ll go and tell them., They’re down stairs.”

“Mary disappeared down the stairs. Ted listened—muffled voices, then silence. When she returned, her hands were trembling. Her eyes, red and swollen, locked onto his. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to.”   Ted looked at her and wrapped her in his arms.  They stood in their kitchen and wept together.   That night, they sat together in the dim glow of the living room, flipping through old photos, reliving the camping trips, the ball games, the laughter. Terry’s voice still echoed in their memories—so full of life. Ted held his daughters a little tighter that night, the weight of what could have been pressing heavy on his chest.” 

Chapter Two

Ted headed his truck out of Eden into the surrounding country.  A short distance out of town, the pavement ended and gravel roads began.  The gravel crunched beneath his tires as the town faded in the rearview.  Fields stretched wide, interrupted by patches of forest with steams and creeks cutting through both.  Pastures with grazing cattle surrounded by barbed wire and split cedar fence posts.  Hay fields with rows of drying cut grass waiting for the baling machine and others with square or round bales soon to be moved to storage and held for winter feed.  A spattering of saplings struggling for a foot hold evidenced a pasture no longer used and eventually, if left untended would return to forest.  It was a patchwork of fields and forest defined by fences and country roads.  

Silos, barns, and outbuildings told the story of generations past and present. Some stood as relics of the pioneer days, their hand-hewn logs notched at the corners, the gaps once packed with clay or moss. Others bore the clean lines of modern corrugated steel, built for function over tradition. The old barns still served their purpose—storehouses for tools, shelter for animals, or a quiet place for stacked hay in lofts and stalls. 
 

 Ted knew the Neilson family well,  but Terry had been like one of his own.  She was once as close to family as you could get without being related.  The same age as his middle daughter, and was always around the house.  She was in the same classes at school and played on his daughter’s soft ball team and both where active in 4H. She had sleep overs at his house and had accompanied the family on camping trips and other adventures.  Ted hadn’t seen Terry in a while and was looking forward to seeing what she was up to lately.    

A welfare check was just a routine part of the job.  Ted could never count the number of checks he had made in his career.   Someone would call with a concern about a friend or relative and ask the police to stop by and see if there was a problem.  The local police would check if the request fell in the town’s limits.  The Sheriff’s Department handles all the request in county areas.  Most of the time someone was calling about their elderly parent.  The kids had moved to a bigger city and when they can’t reach their parents, they call and ask for a welfare check.  The story goes that they had tried for several days and there was no answer on the phone.  Its probably nothing, Grandma had not fully adjusted to cell phones and she probably forgot to charge it or she had left it in the car.  This time it was a mother’s concerned about her daughter.  Terry’s father has passed and her mother had moved away to live with her older sister.  She needed access to better health care than was available in Eden.  Terry had stayed behind and lived in the family house.  Ted reminded himself that most of the time everyone was fine.

The homestead was on two hundred acres of mostly pasture, with a barn and some other out buildings.  The house was built in the early 1900’s, two stories with a wrap around covered porch and a basement.  It was a typical southern farm house found all around the county.  Built for the large family that was needed to successfully farm.  The house was built by Terry’s grandfather, and inherited by her father.  Her parents had run a calf and cow operation when she was young.  Now the fields were leased to a neighbor and used for hay production.  Ted was certain that once Terry’s mother had passed, the land would be sold off and Terry would move away.  

The house was set back off the main road and accessible by a two hundred yard gravel drive.  Ted pulled up to the house and saw no signs of activity.  A dog barked as he approached, but no one came to the door.  The dog was wagging his tail as he barked and Ted knew from experience that the dog was just announcing his arrival.  After exiting the car, he walk over to the dog.

“Good boy.” He said.  The dog stopped barking and came over and smelled his pants.  Ted reached down and rubbed the dogs ears while he looked around, he still did not see anyone.  The yard was over grown and there was a car parked next to the house.  The steps were in the center of the front porch and Ted climbed up and walked to the door.  He heard the sound of the TV when he pressed the door bell.  He did not hear the door bell ring so he rapped on the glass in the door.  Still no response.  

Ted called out “Hello, anyone home?”  Still no answer.  “Terry, it’s Ted.”  Still no answer.  Ted walked around the house.  He called in the plate numbers from the car and it was Terry’s.  Ted walked to the back of he house calling out as he walked.   

The rear of the house was in greater disarray than the front.  There were items haphazardly strewn about.  Ted knocked on the back door getting no response.  He tried the door handle and it was unlocked.  He opened the door and announced his presence.  “Anybody home?”  No response.  The house was silent.

The back door open to the kitchen and it was a mess.  Ted knew that Terry was alway a little messy.  There were dishes piled in the sink and overflowing onto the counter.  Open empty cans of food were left on the counter and the kitchen table.  The garbage can was full and had been pulled over and spilled on the kitchen floor.   Ted thought to himself that the dog must have gotten into it.  Ted made his way down the hall towards the front of the house.  

The vestibule included the stairway to the second floor.  Ted continued to call out as he checked each room for occupants.   He turn the TV off as he searched.  Ted climbed the stairs peering into each open door as he walked the second floor.  At the rear right of the house there was a room with a closed door.  Ted called out and knocked on the door.  The house remained silent.  He opened the door and saw a woman lying covered in the bed, faced away from the door.

 “Terry, is that you.” He walked closer and approached the foot of the bed,  As he did the face came into view.  Ted did not have to approach any further,  it was Terry and she was dead.  His breath caught in his throat. For a moment, the years melted away, and he saw her as the little girl who used to raid his fridge after school. He wanted to shake her awake, to tell her it was all a mistake. But she was gone.  He caught himself and stepped back.  

Over the years, Ted had witnessed death on a regular basis.  Accidents on the highway and the passing of the elderly in his community.  He had grown accustom to it.  But this was different.    She was young, beautiful, with a limitless future.  Her family was loving and supportive and she was liked and respected in the community.  

It took a minute but Ted composed himself.  He had a job to do, a job that included telling this child’s mother that her daughter was gone.  On the nightstand next to Terry was a open bottle of pills.  In the eternity that were the seconds Ted stood and stared at the bottle, he asked himself,  “Did she overdose, was this a suicide?”

The scene told a story, but Ted wasn’t sure what kind yet. Overdose? Something worse? His gut churned.   Opioid abuse was ramping up all across the country.  Ted had read the reports, overdose deaths were on the rise.  It was an epidemic and it may have reached Eden.  Ted approached and read the label.  It was a prescription, and it was Terry’s name on the bottle.  The prescription was for pain and the bottle still contained pills.  Ted was relieve for a moment, at least it was not suicide.  If it was a suicide, the bottle would be empty.

Ted called the office to request assistance and to have the coroner sent out.  It wasn’t ten minutes before the home phone started ringing.  Ted stood and listened as the callers left messages.   “Just calling to check on you.  Terry, are you there?”  Ted recognized the voice on the phone.  There were a dozen calls before the coroner arrived.  News travels fast in a small town.  Message after message played—each one a voice from Terry’s life, calling into the void. ‘Terry? Call me back, honey.’ Ted squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t take it anymore. He turned the volume down and let himself grieve. 

Chapter One

    Standing waist deep, Ted braced against the insistent flow and followed the fly as it drifted with the current.  Watching for the swirl of water that accompanied a trout rising from the river bed.  The air moved with the river, from the west.  The smell of rain was in the air. 

     Fly fishing was a form of meditation for Ted.  He found serenity in its conflicts.  Constant pressure from the force of the water against his body and a lure that floated without resistance on the current.  The reflection of light off the surface and the dark recesses where his adversary lay in wait. He loved the poetry of motion in casting the line.  The raising of the arm, drawing the line up and off the surface, pulling it back over his shoulder, taking in line with his other hand and the moment in time when the line lingered in the air, behind him, then throwing it forward, closing with the opposite hand, whipping the line ahead and watching it roll out across the water.  The voices that echoed in his mind were quieted here.  He could think, feel and reflect.

     Ted kept a wary eye to the west, watching the weather.  Dark billowing clouds at the head of the valley promised rain and the distant rumble underscored the threat of lightening.  Ted made his way to shore and collected Boo who had waited patiently for his return.  Boo was a 14 year old Black Mouth Cur that was Ted’s constant companion. Boo would sit on the shore and watch every cast Ted made.  The river snaked through the countryside nestling up to and running along side Main Street, marking the southern boundary of town, the river soon turn away and ambled down the valley.  Ted and Boo made their way down Main Street along the river’s edge.  People had walked here for hundreds, if not thousands of years.  Main Street was first paved in the early 1900’s. Before it was a street, wagons made ruts in the ground.  The wagons had followed a trace on the land evidencing the passing of travelers on foot. 

      Barely four blocks long and anchored in the center by The Alameda Theater, Main street was a place where a stroll after church was a welcome opportunity to visit with neighbors and friends.  The Alameda was a grand structure opened in the 1930’s built in the art deco style.  The ornate facade included a blade sign reaching upward sixty feet with the theater’s name spelled out in capital letters stacked one upon the other.  It was not a theater, it was a palace to house the nobility of the silver screen and to celebrate the imagining of the impossible.  The Theater was the central landmark of the town.

     Ted’s father and his father before him had walked this street. He passed the building that once held the Five and Dime store, where his grandmother meet his grandfather.  The Five and Dime was boarded up now, its windows dusty and forgotten.  Further down was the old bank building where his mother had been a teller.  She met his father there.  Ted had courted his wife and taken her to the Alameda Theater.  His kids grew up going to the same theater and shopping in all the stores that lined the street.  His roots were deep in this town.  It was a part of him.  There was no place that he would rather live.

     Main street was buttressed by a lattice work of residential streets lined by the elms and oaks planted a hundred and fifty years ago when the town was founded.  The trees had a majestic presence with their branches spreading out and crossing the divide to form a canopy of foliage over the carriage paths that were now paved roads.  Houses with picket fences framed the streets and were loving decorated with ornamental plants and flowers.

     Ted made his way back to his car with Boo leading the way carrying her leash in her mouth as they walked.  People stopped and said hello to Boo. 

“Hello Sheriff.”  A shop owner said as he reached to greet Boo.

“Catch any?” the shop owner asked.

“Not enough for dinner, let’em all go”  Ted replied as he continued his walk home.

Ted’s cell phone rang and the caller ID said it was from the office. 

“Sheriff, this is dispatch, we got a request for a welfare check at the Nielsen place.  Terry’s mother hasn’t been able to reach her is several days and is concerned.”  The dispatcher said.  Can you stop by on your way home?  Everyone else is tied up.”

“Will do, just headed that way now.”

“Thanks”,

Ted glanced at the storm clouds pressing closer.  Boo trotted ahead, leash in her mouth, oblivious.  The Nielson place wasn’t far.  He adjusted his hat, exhaled and turned the corner towards his truck.

Unveiling the Treasures of North Carolina: Introducing "Guide to the Outer Banks" by Will Stevenson

 

Unveiling the Treasures of North Carolina: Introducing "Guide to the Outer Banks" by Will Stevenson

---

Greetings, adventurers, travel enthusiasts, and seekers of hidden gems! Today marks an exciting
milestone in the world of exploration as we unveil a comprehensive guide to one of the most enchanting coastal destinations in the United States – the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Authored by the seasoned traveler and connoisseur of discovery, Will Stevenson, this guide promises to be your compass through the sandy shores, historic landmarks, and natural wonders of this captivating region.

Embark on a Journey of Discovery

For those unfamiliar with the Outer Banks, picture a stretch of barrier islands lining the coast of North Carolina, boasting pristine beaches, charming coastal towns, and a rich tapestry of history and culture. From the iconic Cape Hatteras Lighthouse standing tall against the horizon to the untamed beauty of the Cape Lookout National Seashore, each corner of the Outer Banks holds a story waiting to be uncovered.

Your Trusted Companion

In "Guide to the Outer Banks," Will Stevenson serves as your trusted companion, offering insights, tips, and recommendations garnered from years of firsthand exploration. Whether you're a first-time visitor or a seasoned veteran of these shores, this guide is designed to enhance your experience and help you navigate the myriad attractions and activities the Outer Banks has to offer.

What to Expect

Inside the pages of this meticulously crafted guide, you'll find:

Comprehensive Coverage: From the northern reaches of Corolla to the southern tip of Ocracoke Island, no stone is left unturned as Stevenson delves into the diverse offerings of each Outer Banks destination.

Insider Tips: Discover hidden gems, off-the-beaten-path treasures, and insider secrets that only a seasoned explorer like Stevenson can provide.

Activities for Every Traveler: Whether you're a beach bum, history buff, outdoor enthusiast, or foodie, there's something for everyone in the Outer Banks, and this guide ensures you make the most of your time in this coastal paradise.

Practical Information: From lodging options and dining recommendations to transportation tips and safety guidelines, Stevenson covers all the practical aspects to make your journey smooth and hassle-free.

Why "Guide to the Outer Banks" Matters

In a world where travel guides often feel impersonal and generic, "Guide to the Outer Banks" stands out as a labor of love, reflecting Stevenson's genuine passion for exploration and his deep connection to this remarkable region. More than just a collection of facts and figures, this guide is a testament to the transformative power of travel – the opportunity to connect with nature, immerse oneself in history, and create lasting memories with loved ones.

Join the Adventure

As we eagerly anticipate the unveiling of "Guide to the Outer Banks" by Will Stevenson, let us embrace the spirit of adventure and embark on a journey of discovery unlike any other. Whether you're planning your next getaway or simply dreaming of sandy shores and salt-kissed breezes, let this guide be your compass as you navigate the boundless wonders of the Outer Banks.

So pack your bags, fuel your wanderlust, and prepare to embark on an unforgettable odyssey through the sun-drenched splendor of North Carolina's Outer Banks.

 Available on Amazon

Top Ten Most Popular National Parks

Here's a list of some of the most popular national parks in the United States, arranged from the least visited among the popular ones to the most visited based on recent data:

Glacier National Park (Montana): Known for its pristine wilderness, glaciers, and crystal-clear lakes, Glacier National Park offers stunning landscapes and diverse ecosystems. Visitors can explore its scenic Going-to-the-Sun Road, hike numerous trails, and marvel at the park's rich wildlife.

Olympic National Park (Washington): Olympic National Park boasts a diverse terrain encompassing rugged coastlines, lush rainforests, and glacier-capped peaks. Visitors can experience tidepooling, hike through old-growth forests, and even find themselves in hot springs.

Grand Teton National Park (Wyoming): With the iconic Teton Range as its backdrop, Grand Teton National Park showcases dramatic mountain vistas, serene lakes, and abundant wildlife. Popular activities include hiking, wildlife watching, and scenic drives.

Acadia National Park (Maine): Acadia is characterized by its rugged Atlantic coastline, granite peaks, and scenic trails. Visitors can enjoy breathtaking views from Cadillac Mountain, explore the carriage roads, and relax on picturesque beaches.

Yellowstone National Park (Wyoming, Montana, Idaho): The first national park in the world, Yellowstone is famed for its geothermal features, including geysers and hot springs. It's also home to diverse wildlife like bison, wolves, and grizzlies.

Yosemite National Park (California): Yosemite's iconic granite cliffs, waterfalls, and ancient sequoias make it a paradise for outdoor enthusiasts. Visitors can hike to the iconic Half Dome, view Yosemite Falls, and explore the stunning Yosemite Valley.

Zion National Park (Utah): Known for its towering red cliffs, narrow slot canyons, and the scenic Zion Canyon, this park offers incredible hiking opportunities, including the challenging Angels Landing and The Narrows trails.

Rocky Mountain National Park (Colorado): Rocky Mountain NP is a haven for alpine scenery, with soaring peaks, meadows filled with wildflowers, and abundant wildlife. Visitors can explore Trail Ridge Road, hike to alpine lakes, and spot elk and bighorn sheep.

Grand Canyon National Park (Arizona): The Grand Canyon is a geological wonder, showcasing the immense scale of nature with its vast canyon walls carved by the Colorado River. Visitors can hike trails, take in panoramic views, and experience the park's unique beauty.

Great Smoky Mountains National Park (North Carolina, Tennessee): Renowned for its misty mountains, lush forests, and diverse plant and animal life, the Great Smoky Mountains offer scenic drives, hiking trails, and historical insights into Appalachian culture.

Each of these parks presents its own unique natural wonders, providing visitors with endless opportunities to explore and immerse themselves in the beauty of the American wilderness.