by Barbara Ann Weibel at Hole In The Donut

As an inveterate beach bum, I spent most of my leisure time at the shore during the ten plus years I lived on the Outer Banks of North Carolina. Over the years I began to notice that, although the beaches themselves are quite similar, different beaches attracted different crowds. Being close to rental cottages, shops and restaurants, “town” beaches were more popular with vacationers. Locals, on the other hand, usually sought out the more remote deserted beaches.

There is really no mystery about this segregation; locals simply needed a break from tourists on their days off, and I was no different. My desire to avoid the hordes led me to what ultimately became my favorite escape on the Outer Banks, Coquina Beach. I adored Coquina for its miles of wave-drenched golden sands, its towering dunes, and its gracefully swaying Sea Oats. These reasons alone would have been sufficient to make it my favorite, but in addition to offering beauty and solitude, Coquina also provided a unique glimpse into the rapidly vanishing commercial fishing industry.

Fixing the net before setting

Day after day, in good weather and bad, commercial fishermen spread nets out in long lines on the hard-packed sand, checking for tears and tangles. After passing inspection, the nets are loaded onto small hand-built wooden dorys, which fight their way through surf and drop them in calmer waters 50 to 75 feet from shore. Later in the day, these same boats retrieve the ends of the nets, motor to shore, and attach them to pickup trucks.

When the net is ready the dory is pulled down to the surf and unloaded

This boat and the net are the timeless pieces of this ancient practice. Boats like this have been used off this beach for over 200 hundred years.

Putting in carefully

The trickiest part is getting through the break. Not to hard on this particular day but still dangerous. One in open water, the net is played over the stern of the dory.

I vividly recall the first time I witnessed this event. In low gear, trucks strained to drag the heavily laden nets from the ocean. They emerged slowly, full of sea critters. Some I recognized – wriggling grouper, drum, mackerel, trout, and flounder were quickly extracted and tossed into truck beds. Others species – like the Horseshoe Crabs – I had never seen before. These giant prehistoric-looking creatures were trash to the fishermen, who cared only about removing them without causing further damage to the nets. Unfortunately, the preferred method consisted of tearing the pincer/legs off the crab’s bodies, rather than gently untangling them. Even more shocking was the huge shark thrashing around in the final length of netting pulled from the sea. All of these sea creatures were caught just feet from shore, in waters where not long before, I had been swimming! Notwithstanding second thoughts about the wisdom of splashing around in those murky Atlantic waters, I felt privileged to witness this time honored, yet rapidly disappearing tradition. This group of beach fishermen may be the last generation to practice this trade.

Just a piece of net left behind on the beach

Coquina Beach is located just south of the town of Nags Head, in the Cape Hatteras National Seashore. The Outer Banks is a favorite vacation destination of residents all up and down the Eastern Seaboard, as it offers a wealth of outdoor acivities and historic attracions, as well a a full range of accomodations.

All photos courtesy of BOBXNC @ Flickr.com

by Barbara Ann Weibel at Hole In The Donut

Years ago, Byron Bay, located about 480 miles north of Sydney, Australia, was discovered by hippies. They came for a week and stayed forever, leaving their indelible imprint on the town. Although the hippies have long since grown up or moved away, the laid back alternative lifestyle that persists to this day has made this small town of 30,000 residents the third most popular holiday spot in the country. Byron Bay hosts events such as yoga retreats, pagan gatherings, and music festivals that attract an eclectic mix of backpackers, surfers and musicians, as well as the affluent baby-boomer contingent. But without a doubt, the best part of Byron Bay is its beautiful beaches.

Main Beach at Byron Bay

The perfect surfing wave at Main Beach

At Main Beach, which directly fronts the town, a deep turquoise ocean laps gently upon a wide golden-pink expanse of sand. During the day the beach is the domain of surfers and sunbathers; Byron Bay is reputed to have some of the best waves in Australia and it certainly has some of the softest, deepest sand. But each night when the sun descends behind the hills, throwing rays up into the evening sky like searchlights in a perfect arc, everyone turns out to witness exquisite sunsets that morph from pink to gold to orange, before darkening to a deep purple that briefly precedes the inky night. This is the other wonder of Byron Bay – night after night, nature paints a dazzling palette over what may well be the world’s most beautiful beach.

As daylight fades, the sand turns to deep pink

Sunset turns the sky pink, gold, and orange

Nearby hills diffract the rays of the setting suns, creating an Aurora Borealis effect

Photos courtesy of Barbara Weibel

by Barbara Ann Weibel at Hole In The Donut Travels

When I first visited Koh Phra Thong in 2004, I knew I had discovered a treasure. This tiny island, located just off the western shore of Thailand’s southern peninsula, was little known and even lesser visited. Just getting there was an adventure. An eight hour train ride from Bangkok to Surat Thani was followed by a two hour van transport from the east coast to the tiny west coast village of Kuraburi, best known for its anchovy fishing industry. Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, my driver deposited me at a crumbling concrete municipal pier, where I gingerly climbed down into a long-tail wooden boat piloted by three Thais who spoke not a word of English. In the ink-black, moonless night, they started up a deafening Chinese diesel motor and pointed their leaky wooden vessel toward open seas. An hour and a half later we turned into a sheltered bay where they motioned for me to hop out and wade to shore. I had arrived at Koh Phra Thong.

In those pre-tsunami days, there were a couple of tiny inns on the island, but I had made reservations at a the only resort, Golden Buddha Beach. Even though it was late, the manager scraped up something for me to eat before showing me to my bungalow, a traditional open-sided cottage constructed of indigenous Teak.

Accommodations at Golden Buddha Beach are all traditional Thai open-sided cottages constructed of indigenous Teak

I crawled beneath the mosquito netting and fell into a dead sleep, exhausted from the trip and grateful to have arrived safely. At dawn the next morning, eager to explore, I crested the dune in front of my doorstep and was treated to a jaw-dropping vista. A stunning ribbon of deserted beach stretched for six miles along the sparkling sapphire Andaman Sea.

View of the beach from atop the dune that separates the cabins from the ocean

For more than a week, I attended the resort’s Yoga and meditation classes, delighted over delicious Thai food, snorkeled around the rocks at the end of the beach, went diving in the nearby Surin Islands, hiked the interior of the island in search of colorful tropical birds, watched the antics of the local monkeys, and spent countless hours walking and sunning on the beach. I was also fortunate to be at the resort during a release of endangered sea turtles. These tiny Leatherbacks had been hatched from eggs laboriously collected by the Naucrates Conservation Program, which operated from a compound located within the resort. At the end of my stay I regretted having to leave, but promised myself I would return as soon as possible.

Releasing endangered Leatherback turtles hatched from eggs painstakingly collected by the local conservation organization

Sadly, slightly more than a year later the tsunami roared through Koh Phra Thong, destroying most of the resort as well as the four small villages on the island. It took years, but Golden Buddha Beach has finally reopened, and these days homestays are also available in the villages. In a strange twist of fate, this new industry grew out of the tsunami disaster. Traditional fishermen by trade, most villagers were so frightened by the tsunami that they could not bear to return to the sea. Resort employees were also out of work due to the devastation, but rather than leave they asked the villagers how they could help. Initially their assistance took the form of building new bridges and digging wells, but over time villagers decided they wished to learn English, be trained on computers, and pursue various cottage industries such as wood carving and manufacturing soaps using fragrances from native flowers and plants.

The beach on Koh Phra Thong stretches for six miles and is largely deserted

During the rebuilding and training, volunteers taught villagers about environmental and conservation issues and this knowledge instilled in the local populace a desire to preserve the beauty of their island. Before long, they had a new proposal for their benefactors: help develop an eco-tourism program that would accommodate tourists without destroying their paradise. Happily, the program has been a complete success and now operates as Andaman Discoveries. There is solace in the realization that some small good has come from the terrible devastation wrought by the tsunami. Koh Phra Thong is as beautiful as it ever was, and I take great comfort in knowing that it will always be that way.

Photos courtesy of Barbara Weibel

by Barbara Ann Weibel at Hole In The Donut Travel

In most parts of India, women are still expected to dress modestly. Saris and other traditional fashions are designed to cover legs and upper arms and for an Indian woman to wear a bikini on the beach would be unthinkable; even tourists are advised against wearing skimpy bathing attire. But there is one place in India where almost anything goes – the tiny state of Goa on the central west coast, which was a Portuguese colony for 451 years until the Indian army invaded and annexed it in 1961.

The Portuguese influence is readily apparent in Goa’s architecture and cultural openness. Throughout the 1960′s and 70′s, hippies by the thousands flocked to its beaches to participate in its drug-induced raves and trance dances. Even today, visitors come to Goa hoping to get a feel for the hippie years. The very best chance of catching this glimpse is at Vagator Beach, which is still the trance dance capitol of India.

Big Vagator Beach, seen here from the south, with Fort Chapora visible aop the hill in the background. Photo courtesy of Dominik Hundhammer at http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:India_Goa_Big_Vagator_Beach_with_Fort_Chapora.jpg

The pure white sand at Vagator is dotted with black lava rocks and tiny flower-bedecked cottages. Swaying coconut palms climb the steep red cliff behind the beach, marking the path to the top, where historic Chapora Fort crowns the rocky bluff. Built by the Portuguese in 1617 on the site of an earlier Muslim structure, the fort has long since been abandoned, although Indian boys roam the ruin in hopes of earning a few coins from tourists who come view the commanding view of the Vagator Beach from its weed-infested ramparts.

Indian boys roam the ramparts of Fort Chapora, hoping to earn fees as tour guides

By day on this free and easy beach not only are bikinis welcome, topless sunbathing is common. But the real action happens after dark, because Vagator is the place to party to the maximum. Though it is always easy to find a rave or trance party, the two most popular night spots are 9-Bar, a fantastic location nestled on the cliffs behind Vagator Beach and Prim Rose, a small bar and restaurant in Little Vagator.

The Fort offers stunning vistas up and down the coast and an especiallay lovely view of Big Vagator Beach

The best time to visit Goa is from September through March. Rooms can be hard to come by during the high season, as hotels in Vagator are few, but a few families in the area rent out rooms in their homes, and several guesthouses can be rented for longer stays.

Photos not otherwise credited courtesy of Barbara Weibel