A Beach by Any Other Name…

I recently test drove my third instalment of North Carolina beaches, the brilliantly named Carolina Beach. I’ll never complain about toes in the sand and a drink in my hand…but less of a hillbilly carnival atmosphere is found elsewhere. I may have found a cigarette butt in an omelette, there may have been a few roaches running rampant, and the Chap may have been propositioned by a drunk lady to hang out with her if he and I weren’t on our first date or getting engaged that night (ummm what?) …..

Regardless, we decided to stay an extra day, because who doesn’t love any beach? Our hosts, the owners of the house we rented, were some funky Brits quick to tell us where to steer clear. God save the Queen.
… All in all, a beach house to ourselves, lazy mornings, long walks with the Beast, adventures to the neighbouring town, and novels in the sand with a few summer ales made for a lovely holiday weekend.
Our funky yard and whip.


Local fare: crab dip


We night capped at cool beer bar that featured printed rocking chairs and a terrifying octopus in the trees.



On my morning jogs, I was happy to see the local law enforcement getting business done.



The locals take the pride of native dance to a new level here.


Obligatory photo.


End of the day.


Menu on the wall.


Pretty much sums up the vibe of the beach- that’s a cooler she’s riding.



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