The CORA Tree

The CORA Tree, Hatteras Island, North Carolina

Anyone familiar with the history of the Lost Colony of Roanoke Island has heard how John White, the colony's governor (and artist for earlier expeditions), sent back to England for supplies but unable to return for three years, found the carved inscriptions on a tree and then one of the posts surrounding the palisade at the abandoned town site. "CRO," one read, and then more fully, "CROATOAN," clearly indicating where the colonists had moved in his absence. White knew very well that Croatoan referred to another island about fifty miles to the south--what is now the southernmost stretch of Hatteras Island--and the people who lived there.) It was made into this big mystery because people forgot for a while (maybe willfully) that this was an actual location name.

Theories abound, of course, on what happened to the colonists from there. It's generally agreed that at least some moved inland, and one historian theorizes, drawing from records of Spanish voyages between 1587 and 1590 (the colony's arrival on Roanoke to White's return), that at least one major hurricane hit the Outer Banks and forced any survivors to relocate.

What if "CRO" was not the only clue the Lost Colonists left for White, or others, to find them?

In my research over the past year, I kept running across mention of the CORA Tree--an ancient oak located on Hatteras Island, North Carolina, rivaling the Angel Oak in Charleston, South Carolina, in age. The most persistent legend to explain the four letters carved into this tree involves a young woman accused of being a witch who, as she's tied to the tree in preparation for being burned, disappears in a flash of lightning that left only her name carved there.

Uh huh.

Another theory emerges. What if CORA was early colonial shorthand for yet another region and/or people group of the time, just as CRO was?

On John White's famed Pars Virginia map, a region due west and a little south of Croatoan bears the label Cwareuuoc, often shortened to Coree, which very easily could have been shortened to CORA. Croatoan itself derived from the native Kuh-rah-wo-tain, and another group, Secotan, from Suh-kwoh-tain. So it seemed very plausible to me that there might be a connection there.

Naturally, I wanted to see the tree for myself, so on my last research trip to Hatteras earlier this year, I determined to find it. Bless my husband for indulging these little scavenger hunts!

To my surprise, we found the tree right without any trouble--a single oak, located on a grassy median on a quiet residential street, a few blocks away from the waterfront. We parked and got out.

The letters are still there, and fairly legible:

Y'all know this was more than enough to delight this history nerd's heart! Sadly I didn't get more than a couple of good photos--it took a video to even remotely capture the sprawling splendor of this beauty, which did indeed remind me of the Angel Oak in miniature.

One commentator says that this being a water oak, it's highly unlikely this tree is the 300+ years old it's purported to be. But the Angel Oak is at least that old. And while the question is always asked, How do we know it is, I would counter with, Well, how do we know it isn't?

Here is where history bleeds into the speculative, which happens a lot. In this case, though, I'm okay with that, because it makes for some interesting early colonial story fodder.

"I spy Pilot Mountain!" said the early colonial explorers.

North Carolinians are well aware of this eye-catching historical landmark and state park. I remember reading about it at some point as a kid. Yet, being firmly born and rooted in the Midwest, I'm not as familiar with Pilot Mountain as the folks out east are. 

Recently, though, my husband and I took a 3500 mile round trip to the that part of the country, and I got my first glimpse of this famous place on the map. I tried to imagine how important it must have been to explorers, fur traders, settlers, Indians making their way back and forth across the country.

Joshua Fry and Peter Jefferson (Thomas Jefferson's father) were the first to map Pilot Mountain in 1751, which, to give it a time frame, would put young America near the beginning of the third French and Indian War. In the meantime, thousands of Scots-Iris, Welsh, and German immigrants made their way through the Carolinas at this time via the route known as the Great Wagon Road. 

Can you imagine their relief at seeing Pilot Mountain guiding their way? 

It is said that upon seeing the landmark, one Moravian settler said, "We saw the Pilot Mountain and rejoiced to think that we would soon see the boundary of Carolina, and set foot in our own dear land."

I often think about the fur traders and explorers who wrestled their way through the wilderness. I wonder at the men who fought in the civil war, in country that was as difficult to transverse at times as any battlefield. I let my imagination wander to the women who settled so far away from neighbors, family, and friends. Getting a glimpse at places like Pilot Mountain makes my imagination swirl!

Nowadays, the highway that passes by Pilot Mountain is a far cry from that old wagon road. It's a Blue Star Memorial highway, commemorating the men and women of the armed forces who have and continue to defend the United States of America.

At the pull-off to view the mountain, where the Blue Star sign is located, there are these rocks. Passersby write their names on the rocks or perhaps the names of service people they love. We didn't have a marker, so we didn't do that. Nevertheless, I thought it a neat tradition, a momento of the never-ending wave of travelers passing by, guided by the same road and mountain that travelers have been using for centuries.

Traveling Blessings on Your Summer~

Naomi

https://naomimusch.com/

P.S. ~ On a totally different note: I want to thank everyone again who joined the Colonial Quills High Tea Party a couple weeks ago. Since then, I've had TWO book cover biggies happen. First, the book I talked about at the party got a face lift. LPC Smitten (my publisher) gave Mist O'er the Voyageur a face lift by brightening up the cover. Secondly, I have a cover reveal for my new novel releasing in August! I'm super excited about The Brightest Hope because the cover features my youngest daughter. She also did the photography, so she was both behind and in front of the lens. Isn't she gorgeous as Holley Allen? You can find out more about the book in this month's newsletter here.