News broke early Tuesday afternoon that Dare County was closing its borders, essentially cutting off North Carolina’s Outer Banks from visitors. As it happened, Kerry: Unemployed & Unedited’s Bryn Mahan was caught in the blockade. This is her first-person account of trying to get through. For a good cause.

Every Tuesday for the past two years it’s been the same.

I hop into my kid-cluttered SUV and drive from Ocean View in Norfolk to Southern Shores on the Outer Banks, 83 miles away. On the other end of my trip is my adopted grandfather. A 92-year-old retired rocket scientist who lives alone and a year ago was diagnosed with a serious illness.

All week I look forward to our visit.

Once there, I tend to any chores or errands that he has for me. I shop for his groceries, help him pay his bills, go through his mail with him and occasionally run his best buddy, Obi - a Schnauzer-Yorkie mix - to the vet. Most importantly, I organize his medicines for the coming week. He has home aides who stay with him now, but meds are off limits to them.

After business is done, we lunch. Sometimes at one of his favorite local seafood joints but often we share supermarket sushi at his kitchen table. It’s also my favorite part of our day because we just chat. This guy is a first-rate raconteur and I love his stories.

Yesterday, I skipped our lunch date and headed for the Outer Banks in the afternoon because his aide had run him to a medical appointment in the morning.

Just as I turned on the ignition in my driveway I got a screaming alert on my phone: Dare County, NC was closing its borders to everyone except residents, county employees and employees of local businesses. Travel restrictions were going into effect at 2 p.m. 

No way to make that trip in an hour. 

After quick calls to family members, I decided to give it a try. Halfway there I regretted not throwing my kayak on the car. If I was blocked from driving onto the Outer Banks, I could paddle across the sound and walk to his house.

Flashing signs along the way warned that the Outer Banks were closed. 

“DARE CO ACCESS RESTRICTED” “CHECKPOINT WRIGHT MEM BRIDGE”

Once at the eastern end of the Wright Memorial Bridge I saw cars being turned around at a roadblock manned by local law enforcement.

They were polite but firm when I explained my predicament. The officer told me I didn’t meet the requirements. I explained how important the medications were and that I’d be wearing a mask and gloves and leaving a trail of Lysol. I’m always careful not to bring any contagions into this home and wouldn’t be bringing any into Dare County either.

“Good enough for me,” the deputy said, waving me through.

Dare County is good at evacuations and re-entry requirements. They ought to be. Hurricanes routinely empty the Outer Banks and law enforcement restricts access to protect property owners. In the aftermath of a big storm, roads are sometimes blocked and utilities are down.

This is different.

A North Carolina county with no documented cases of the Coronavirus wants to keep it that way. Can’t blame them. Officials decided that the only way to block virus tourists from outbreak hotspots like New York and Northern Virginia was to close the border.

They’re taking the plea to end “discretionary travel” seriously.

Unfortunately, authorities didn’t account for caregivers who travel to the Outer Banks, not for the surf or seafood, but to help those in need. We simply don’t fit any of the categories that are allowed in the county.

For future visits, I’d need this permit. So I repeatedly called the number given by Dare County Emergency Management but —probably due to call volume— no one answered.

The website was no help either. At the bottom of the Dare County site is a place to “APPLY FOR AN ENTRY PERMIT.”

Unfortunately, there’s no link.

I have another week to jump through governmental hoops and beg for mercy to make sure a vulnerable member of the Outer Banks community gets the help he needs.

As I left, I promised him I’d be back next Tuesday.

“If I have to, I’ll kayak over,” I said on my way out the door.

“Call me if you do,” he laughed. “I want to be out there with my camera.”