Where in the world is Ocracoke? For many mainlanders, the island accessible only by ferry, boat, or plane remains a mystery. For those who live there, it is home to past and present, change and stasis, a tight-knit village and wild woods filled with centuries of secrets.
There are no bridges to Cape Lookout, no roads along the 56 miles of islands. In the seven years that Ron and Joan Preloger have come here to watch over its iconic lighthouse, they’ve survived raging storms and swarms of stinkbugs. They wouldn’t have it any other way.
What a gift, those great shifting sandbars — a 325-mile-long string of them, clustered up and down the Carolina coast, looming so large in the history of our state and in our lives. The bridges and ferries, the wild dunes and crashing waves, the beach houses and fish dinners. Year after year, we return to the islands.