Day Seven: Horse Island

9AM: Amble out of Fenwick Island Econolodge after solid sleep in workaday but appreciated beds. Fuel up on apples, bananas, granola, yogurt and coffee, head for Ocean City.

Ocean City entirely unremarkable, though more tolerable offseason. Upshot was well-paved dedicated bus and bike lane spanning down to Ocean Gateway. Checkerboard of chain seafood restaurants, pancake houses and cheap amusements on OC strip. Finally enticed by a smoothie hut, ask after price of an acai bowl, $12.50 — yeowch — at least its organic — decide to split one and bolster with foodsack granola, saving our big bucks for a proper seafood meal another day.

Finish out the strip, spot the bright and SWOOP quick chain of turns under bridge-trellised waterfront and we hit bike-friendly shoulder over bridge.

Approach Assateague and realize ride today is, well, not particularly challenging. We’d thought our campground was further South on island:

Pictured map undercounts by approx. 3 miles, due to long South-to-North switchback bike path to Assateague National Park’s walk-in campground

Noon: Grab a fully loaded tofu burrito from Chipotle and swerve left across four lane highway onto 611 (don’t worry, we were safe about it!)

611 a DREAM ROAD, smooth pavement and a mix of rural, natural and farmland beauty. Zag onto a forest-lined side road without warning Lizzie, who laughs, understands me:

Shortly before Assateague entrance road splits from 611 we slow roll into surf shop parking lot. I scope out the inside but spend no money (nice bathroom.) Outside Lizzie is singing to Desperado on outdoor radio; brandish burrito and she starts dancing. Red Red Wine comes on so I rock along from rocking chair. “We could live like this…”

Bridge to Assateague sports a great lane for us:

Bridge-side photos never seem to hold candle to the real thing.

2PM: Arrive on Assateague ranger station, Lizzie chats with personnel while I grab GPS coordinates and grok island survival guides. (Later-day experiment to bike on wave-side beach sand fails — it’s feasible but not for miles on end — so we stick to campgrounds and neighboring beaches)

These horses are the real deal. Wild all right, and appearently severely annoyed by insects at all times, using many creative shoo techniques including kicking their own flanks. At one point I munched protein bar in eyeshot of spotted white horse who began saunter in my direction. Stay away from me bars! Love thy neigh-bor — no thanks!

Considering a charge attack for the protein bars

These horses really are something. At one point an army of ‘em blocked me from getting in or out of the bathroom and potable water station.

I too once stuck my lips in sand tumbling off a wave, but did not enjoy it nearly this much.

6PM: Winding down after jaunt down the beach. Several hours to read For Your Own Good by Alice Miller. Lizzie cooking lentils as sun goes down. Surfer guy one campsite over struggles to raise a fire, finally clinches it.

O Clouds — please don’t block the stars tonight!