I consider myself a creature of habit. I find a dish at a restaurant, I order it every time I go back. I find a coffee shop that makes a smooth double shot, almond milk latte, and they’ve won me over for the week. The same goes for the grocery store, down to the same parking space. Almost everything else in my life works this way — just not vacations.
Growing up, my parents picked Myrtle Beach or Kissimmee every summer. It’s still our family tradition, but the second I could plan my own trips, I went the other way: a new country, a new coastline and a new list of museums, cooking classes and walking tours every time. My husband and I built our whole travel philosophy on never repeating ourselves.
Every so often, over caipirinhas in the Algarve and throuba olives in Athens, we’d confidently declare them the winning base for future trips. The one we’d keep coming back to, once kids entered the picture. We said that about half the places we visited. It always felt true.
Then we had our son, and all those predictions stopped holding up. The Algarve is a long flight with a lap infant. Athens is uneven cobblestones and stairs with no stroller that survives them. Every future we toasted to turned out to be a place we’d never actually book, now that the future was here. We needed the kind of trip that was closer and easier, where we could pack the car to where we couldn’t see past suitcases in the rearview mirror.
A vacation that fits
That’s how we ended up in the only condo left in Sunset Beach, North Carolina, two summers ago, after a last-minute Airbnb search came up empty over Fourth of July weekend. It sits forty-five minutes north of Myrtle Beach, where we’d originally meant to book, but has almost nothing else in common with it: smaller crowds, a town that still feels like someone’s hometown, locally-owned cafes and ice cream shops that treat you like a regular on day one, golf carts decked out and circling every corner like they own the place.
We had no idea any of that would make us want to come back. But we did, and we’ve rented the same condo, from the same owner, every summer since. And we’ve even found our places.
Local Favorites
MooTown, a cozy creamery on the island, greets you with the smell of freshly made waffle cones the moment you walk in. On a summer evening, there are lines out the door, but the generous servings and flavor variety of Blue Bell ice cream make the wait worth it.
Right by the beach, The Island Market sells almost everything you’d forget to pack, or wouldn’t know you needed: clothing, groceries, souvenirs, beach chairs, beer and wine, a coffee counter and pizza and sandwiches for lunch. It came in handy the day my flip-flop snapped mid-stride on the wooden walkway, a 25-pound toddler on my hip.
It’s not just the shops that give Sunset Beach its character, though. Market in the Park runs every Thursday at Sunset Beach Park in the summer. They’re a stop worth making on the way to the beach, with local vendors selling honey, baked goods, pottery, jewelry, lawn decor, plus enough produce and snacks to pack a beach bag without a grocery run. We found it by accident our first year, and now make it a point to return, our dog eating a treat of her own beside us.
On the east end of the island, near the 15th Street beach access, a group of mostly retired residents called the Sunset Sand Artists meets to build elaborate sandcastles. We’ve never managed to catch them mid-build, but we’ve learned to go looking, checking their Facebook page before a walk. When we were in town last, they’d built a turtle in honor of the Turtle Patrol, the volunteers who mark off and guard sea turtle nests up and down the shore. You can always spot the roped-off nests, even if you miss the sand sculptures.
A few minutes over the bridge, in Calabash, our list of favorites keeps growing. There’s Coffee Cottage, whose neon green exterior grabs your attention from the road. Inside, menu boards are posted everywhere: on the register, behind it, even across the windowsills. As if that weren’t enough, there are various flavored beans, more than 30 syrups, seasonal specials and Coffee Cottage favorites to choose from. It would take months to try them all.
Breakfast means a visit to The Original Famous Bagel Dock Cafe, started by a retired New York City firefighter and a teacher who brought what New York does best: bagels. They hand-make over 35 varieties fresh every morning, like cranberry orange, French toast, bacon cheddar and ghost pepper, among others. Beyond the bagels, the menu includes breakfast burritos, omelettes, sandwiches and wraps.
Some things are still on the “next time” list. Every Wednesday from late May through September, the town park fills up for a free concert series, Sunset Sound Waves. There are food trucks parked along the edges and the fire department hands out popcorn to anyone who wants it. We’ve never made it, mostly because it runs right through our son’s bedtime, but we know we’ll get to it soon enough.
Return destination
A few miles down the coast is the Kindred Spirit Mailbox, a plain black mailbox mounted on a weathered wooden post, where people have been leaving stories, wishes, grief over a lost pet and whatever else needed saying for about 50 years. The only way to get to it is on foot or by bike, about a mile and a half down the beach from the nearest access point. Yet, that hasn’t stopped people from making the trip from all over the world to read what’s inside and leave something of their own. Nicholas Sparks even stumbled upon it, inspiring his novel “Every Breath.” The writer in me yearns to leave something too.
Two summers later, a place has finally stuck. So much so that the condo owner and I have exchanged numbers. He promises to save “our week” for us every year, and jokes that he may need to change the lock code — just for the regulars.
