Bird Island, North Carolina: Kindred Spirit Mailbox
Kindred Spirit Mailbox is a legendary place with its own Facebook page. But I’d never heard of it until one beautiful, February weekend on the North Carolina coast. The mailbox is a place where you can communicate with other chance passersby, people you’ll probably never know. It’s the kind of place you’d expect to find at the end of a long trail, on a far hilltop or an isolated beach.
And that’s exactly the kind of place, on the shore of North Carolina’s last barrier island before the South Carolina border, where a friend took me to meet the Kindred Spirit. And although I’d never heard of it, the box has been there for four decades (replaced when storms periodically swept it to sea). North Carolina’s Our State Magazine estimates 100,000 people have visited. A lot of visits, but out of all the travelers on the planet, that’s not a lot after all.
What is Kindred Spirit?
A simple mailbox with hardware-store letters spelling Kindred Spirit and its red flag permanently raised. The mailbox is stocked with steno pads and pens, inviting all to share with other kindred spirits their innermost feelings or a simple “hello,” and leave the message in the box. Stand and write or sit on a nearby bench. Volunteers tend the box and gather up full tablets that they deliver to the University of North Carolina Wilmington where many are archived.
There was an original Kindred Spirit, a woman who supposedly got the box started. Frank Nesmith, a 90-year-old who dated the spirit briefly years ago says her name was Claudia. Atlas Obscura says,
According to most stories, the Kindred Spirit Mailbox was first erected after the Kindred Spirit saw a mirage of a mailbox on the shore during low tide. Although the vision wasn’t real, they were inspired to plant a mailbox with a communal notebook so that visitors could leave proof of their having been there. Use of the mailbox quickly caught on and visitors flocked to the island to sit on a nearby bench, look out over the water and write their own personal message inside the mailbox’s journal.
The kindred spirit mailbox
People seek it out. My friend said that outsiders drive around Sunset Beach thinking they’ll find it at the end of a street. That wouldn’t be worthy. You need to walk and it’s almost half a mile from the Sunset Beach pier. Getting there is intentional. And it’s important to read what others have written – the messages are communications to other kindred spirits. I read some that said simply it’s been a while, but I’m back. Another message was as natural as if the person were speaking to me. The writer started out talking about mundane household illnesses and then segued to “Parenting is tough. Teenagers suck. I know because I was one. I’m sorry mom.” The writer talked about herself and her daughter. “Let us find peace,” she concluded. Others praised the beauty of the place. I wrote something, but I didn’t open up – just told the Kindred Spirit that I hadn’t known about it before, also wrote about the beauty of the place and implored the other spirits to “Save our wild places!” I felt like a cheat. Some people are so personal.
The walk to the box from Sunset Beach to the Bird Island state preserve is on wide, white sand beaches alongside high dunes (eroded badly by Hurricane Matthew), and just on the other side of dunes from over a thousand acres of creeks and salt marsh. It’s more or less connected to Sunset Beach, the way all of these watery barrier islands are sort of connected – or not. I was there on a 70-degree weekend in February. We walked on and on, seven and a half miles altogether that day, barefoot in the sand. Hard to see why this would fail to appeal, although you might want shoes.
I said that driving to the box wouldn’t be worthy, so what do I think of the Kindred Spirit’s web site and Facebook page? You can even post messages. It’s OK. Even kindred spirits need to update. But to feel the real Kindred Spirit’s nearness, you have to be there, standing in the sand, the ocean wind blowing, sounds of the shore and the marsh around you. And then write.
Trip date: February 2017