Shackleford Banks
“The Wild Horses of Shackleford Banks”
Bitter Southerner Magazine | April 13, 2021
The fading twilight cast darkening shades of blue and purple across Back Sound. As I paddled at low tide, I could see the thin island known as Shackleford Banks in the distance. I weaved my sea kayak through sandbars, the last shaped like a giant arrowhead, and landed beside a saltwater pond nestled against a dark, dense maritime forest. Hoof prints along a small clearing of sand led into the trees.
There, I pitched my tent. A thunderstorm hit several hours later, 45-mph gusts smacking the tent poles against my face as I lay there wide-eyed on an increasingly wet air pad. Sleep was impossible. I cursed myself for not building a trench around my tent or tying ropes from the rain fly to nearby trees and shrubs. …