Eckner Street/Kitty Hawk Pier:
The southern beaches of Kitty Hawk, Kill Devil Hills and Nags Head — collectively known as “Town” — remain the hub of civilization on the Outer Banks. While Duck and Corolla become virtually desolate after summer tourists leave, and the Hatteras villages all but shut down in winter, reverting to their small native populations of mostly fisherman, the area between Kitty Hawk and Nags Head will still hum at a leisurely rate through the off-season, catering to the largest population on the island. If you’re looking to complement your surf sessions with some nighttime fun, this is the best summer option — and the only winter option — and each small community has a break or two to brag about.
Surfers from all over the world have praised town locals as being some of the mellowest, down-to-earth surfers of any beach in the states. Always encouraging, helpful and respectful — as long as that respect is returned in kind — KDH and Nags Head surfers act as an excellent buffer to some of the hostility one might encounter farther south toward Hatteras. Most residents here are simple and family-oriented, and the Christian element is prominent, especially among many of the county’s best watermen. Very seldom do you see a punch-out or a tire-slashing at the popular breaks; more often, you will see God-squad surfers like local pros Noah Snyder and Jesse Hines offering a smile and a wave to the humble outsider — so long as the surf isn’t all that good. When it’s on, just sit on the side, blend into the nameless, faceless masses and take some notes.
After you cross the Currituck Bridge and pass Clark Griswold and family, your eyes light up at the possibilities as not two, but three lanes beckon you southward. Not wanting to miss a beat, you take the beach road — which doesn’t run too far from the ocean in most places — and almost immediately after turning onto it, you come to a small road with no outlet that takes you to Kitty Hawk Pier.
Sort of. It’s now the island’s only Hilton. Paris’ parents bought the pier and posted up after Hurricane Isabel wrecked the original structure. That makes parking here a pain in summer but winter can ease up — depending. Either way, you can check and decide if it’s worth hiking in from the nearest access.
Both the north and south sides of Kitty Hawk Pier have enjoyed many days of intense surfing action, and the place continues to turn on at certain times. The unique angle of the beach and the pier setup make the spot a favorite for the thick, frothy, open-ocean swells that trudge out of the north. The stormy shoredump of south side KHP does a good job of giving its devotees a fistful of barrels or a pocketload of sand up the crack, nostrils and ears. During large winter swells, the outer bars hold their shape past double-overhead, claiming one of the worst paddle-outs of any break in town; in fact, hard-core surfers have been known to leap off the pier to make it outside. Basically, when its huge and dumpy and looks a little too out of control everywhere else in town, Kitty Hawk Pier is the go — or not. Remember that you are on the Outer Banks. Be prepared to look around.
Even with the makeover, the lineup at Kitty Hawk Pier can revert to a crusty old fisherman’s break. Guys who haven’t surfed for 15 years will creep out of the woodwork on any given day to catch a few waves on their duct-taped single fins. You’ll know them if you see them. Born and bred on this ephemeral sandbar, they are a rough departure from the many “transplant” locals who make the Banks their home. If you see any of these salty dogs heading toward you midway through a wounded-gull bottom turn, dive deep and give them their space — they’ve earned it.
Old Station/Laundromats:
Upon leaving Milepost 2, you won’t have to drive too far south before seeing waves breaking between two clearings of cottages that fell to northeasters of years past. This clearing, and the wide area of beach that stretches to the north and south of it, is one of town’s more popular surfing beaches and turns on with any swell of significant size; however, north swells at high tide tend to hold up a little better. In the old days, the spot was referred to as Old Station, but the collective beach area now is referred to as Laundromats. The expansive area spreads surfers out across the beach, and there is usually no definitive lineup but a series of peek-a-boo bowls that plow shoreward regardless of where the pack sits, so it’s possible to stroke into a good wave, snake-free. You can’t drive on the beach road without glancing at the conditions here, so be sure to peek: when the place is cooking, you’ll know; and if it sucks, you’ll know to keep driving.