“SECOND PERSON DROWNS IN SURF OF THE OUTER BANKS,” I read in horror as we approached the Wright Memorial Bridge. A million thoughts race through my head. Excitement. Fear. Never being to the ocean, my first natural thought is, It is going to be so fun!, sadly, fear sets in. Glancing out my window, watching the solid land around be become sparse, I notice that the road disappears down into the ground. We are going under the water. Suddenly there are walls around my can making it so we no longer see the mid-July sun beating down on the earth. Even though we are in the dry cool interior of the family SUV, I can feel the hot and humid air of the tunnel. My mother decides now is a good time to pull her nose out of the informational guide she has…show more content… We drive upon a town with a carved wooden sign that read “Frisco”. We have made it. It is almost sunset by the time we reach our camp ground. We drive up and down every loop. Twice. We drive and drive, until we find the most perfect spot. The campsite was nestled in grove of trees, up on a hill, with a clear view of the ocean. I could smell it. The salty smell of the water wafted over the seagrass and up the hill straight into my nose. After we set up camp, we decide that it is time to get our first glimpse of the ocean. My sisters and I race down the sand laced pathways down to the boardwalk. The wooden pathway is surrounded by small shrubs, cacti, and sand, the softest sand I have ever felt. As we run on and the sand thickens, it begins to stick between my toes. There is so much sand now that it begins spilling out of the cracks of the boardwalk, so much that there is a mountain of it. The water is just on the other side of the towering mound of sand. It is so close that it is impossible to not hear the waves as they roar onto the shoreline. Looking up upon the hill of sand, I start into a sprint towards
