Stories

Rum has flowed through the Outer Banks for centuries — the difference is, now it’s crafted to stay.

Each winter, humpbacks, fin whales, and right whales pass the Outer Banks, headed south. For now, it’s a rare sight. The hope is that one day it won’t be.

We almost walked straight into them — a living river of siafu (Dorylus), also known as driver ants, cutting across the trail. Thousands of them, jaws out, on a mission. Our guide stopped us just in time — before things got uncomfortable.

The art world wasn’t made for women like Henrietta Hoopes Heath—but she never waited for it to be. In the early-to-mid 20th century, when few women gained recognition as painters, she built a career that moved between Washington, Paris, New York, and Los Angeles. She painted what interested her—bullfights, racehorses, portraits—capturing power and motion in a way that drew both collectors and critics.

She stood in the shadow of a fort, a silent fixture in the tourist spectacle. A chair was strapped to her back, its cushions worn thin from years of riders. I remember marveling at her size, her quiet presence, the way her trunk curled idly in the dust.