Assateague

Ah, Assateague.

In the 'Teagues (as I refer to Chincoteague and Assateague, collectively), Chincoteague is the little island that's town, where all the action* is.

*That's irony. Actually, sarcasm. What we loved about Chincoteague was its decided lack of action. Unless you're a duck.

But Assateague -- the 33-mile island across the cove that's all National Seashore -- well, there's action there, too. Of an entirely different kind.

Let's have a closer look under the regal bearing of Assateague Light, shall we?

The shore birds love Assateague, and frequent it on their way to and fro their summer and winter spots. What's not to love? There's good eatin' in those salt marshes . . .

. . . the magestic, migrating birds are everywhere.

Bugs love it too. Although in April there are no pesky, biting bugs. I find biting bugs terribly pesky.

And of course, all over Assateague, the wild ponies snack on grass. The Chincoteague ponies. Do yourself a favor and read Misty of Chincoteague if you never have -- and I never had, shockingly. Neither had Mistah. But we both read it in Chincoteague . . .

. . . and both fell in love with Phantom and Misty.

There are other odd creatures to see, too, especially in divebar parking lots.

But except for the occasional Chincoteaguean dive bar denizen, there's nothing but beauty on Assateague, and it's nothing but diverse. One minute you see long-leaf pines . . .

. . . and the next you see seashells draped on a beach tree.

And the birds are everywhere.

There's good shell-hunting on Assateague . . .

. . . score!

See?

This was right before we both took our shoes off (a la Grandpa in Misty) and used our shoes as pillows (a la Steven Callahan) and basked in a glorious day on a glorious beach.

Oh how I love when Mistah gets down on his belly to take photos . . .

. . . not while biking, though.

We have a strict rule that we only take photos of eachother on bicycles whilst upon bicycles ourselves. Iconoclasts? Oh, you better believe it.

And always, ever, across the dunes . . .

. . . that raging, brilliant ocean, our friend the Atlantic.

The bay side is pretty cool too, though.

On our last walk on the beach on our last day, we came across this little friend:

Awwww . . .

. . . isn't she (he?) cuuuute? . . .

Jacquie thought he (she?) got hit hard with the ugly stick but I think she (he?) is just precious.

"Schleckah! Help me! Save me!"

And then, before the proverbial blink of the proverbial eye, we had to head back home, and leave it all behind us . . .

Bye, 'Teagues.

And oh yes, we'll be back.