Twelve ~ View

                                    

                                          
Twelve ~ View
                          
With my back in no state for sunbathing, and Mia having a day off from work, we ventured away from Camberley. Mia was keen to show me more of the Outer Banks, worrying I'd go stir crazy if I spent every day on the same beach. 
                          
I packed frozen bottles of water into a rucksack while Mia strolled around the kitchen, inspecting gadgets as she did so.  
                          
Unlike Brent, my family's wealth hadn't disgusted her; it had fascinated her. I watched as she picked up an implement hanging off a hook on the wall and turned it over in her hands. 
                          
"What's this?" She twisted to face me, waving it around.  
                          
"An avocado slicer."  
                          
She looked at me for a few seconds more before placing the instrument back on its respective hook. "Huh, there's something I never realised I needed." 
                          
Our excursion took us to a lighthouse, supposedly the tallest brick one in the world. Before moving out here, I'd done a little research on the area, and Cape Hatteras rang a bell as a prime tourist attraction nearby. It felt strange to be visiting a place I'd come across when Googling the Outer Banks, and even stranger to be excited about it when my first reaction had been negativity at the prospect of leaving London.  
                          
The light sea breeze provided the only relief from the scorching heat and humid air as we stepped out of the car upon arriving. Shielding my eyes from the sun's glare, I craned my neck to look up at the lighthouse, admiring the black and white bands that looped diagonally around its cylindrical body.  
                          
Despite my protests, Mia insisted on paying for the tickets. She'd apparently been dying to show me the surrounding area, and I wondered if it was really that obvious that I struggled to entertain myself in Camberley.  
                          
And so the much-anticipated climb began as we started our ascent up the two hundred and fifty-seven steps to the top. The steps weren't the issue; intermittent landings provided plenty of opportunity to rest our aching thighs. The difficult part was the temperature. In such a closed environment without air conditioning, the heat had nowhere to escape. Three quarters of the way up, Mia and I devoured most of the water while taking a break. 
                          
Relief consumed me upon reaching the top—both at the climb being over and the wave of fresh air that followed. 
                          
Awe soon replaced it, though. The view was incredible: greenery, sand and ocean for as far as the eye could see. Mia and I didn't say a word to one another for several minutes as we both absorbed the picturesque landscape.  
                          
When I began to take photos, Mia gave me a sense of orientation. She pointed out the direction of Camberley and other places that she'd mentioned in passing, like Duck and Buxton. 
                          
"I love the colour of the water," I said, rotating as I tried to capture a panoramic photo. "It seems so much more vivid from up here when you compare it to the sand and the green." 
                          
"It does. The light from here is visible twenty miles away." 
                          
"Is it quite rocky around here, then?" 
                          
"The Diamond Shoals are the biggest hazard, really," she said, which meant nothing to me.  
                          
"The diamond what?" I narrowed my eyes, squinting to stare out into the ocean, almost expecting to see something sparkling in the water.  
                          
"The Diamond Shoals. It's a sandbar that's about ten miles long." 
                          
"Oh, a sandbar," I said, Brent's lesson springing to mind. "Wow, ten miles. That's one hell of a sandbar."