About Knee Deep Surf Shop
Our story
Back Where We Belong (Even If We Had to Fight to Get Here)
This all started with beach trips. Long drives, sandy feet, salt-dried skin. Summers spent on the North Carolina coast — the kind of place that sticks with you long after you leave. So when the chance finally came to plant roots here for good, we didn’t hesitate.
We’re not locals in the bumper-sticker sense. But we’re lifers in spirit. This place got under our skin early. Now we’re staying for good.
This Place Gets in Your Blood
There’s something about the North Carolina coast that hits different. Maybe it’s the wind through the dunes. Maybe it’s the off-season silence. Maybe it’s the weird little shops, the sketchy seafood joints, or the way the light hits the water right before sunset.
Whatever it is — it kept calling us back. And now we’re here, telling stories about it.
It Started With a Blog
We tell stories. The Breakline is where that happens — sometimes it’s real stuff. Sometimes it’s made up. Sometimes it’s hard to tell the difference (and that’s kind of the point). We write about the coast, the people, the weird moments, the made-up legends, the stuff that gets sand stuck in your brain.
The shop? That’s a side gig. The blog is the beating heart.
our blog
Latest Articles
A Guide to Off-Season Beaches
Why the best beach days might happen when summer’s already packed up…
How to Tell If You’re at the Wrong Beach
A local’s guide to finding the right stretch of sand on the…
The Sandbar That Tried to Kill Me
It started like every perfect beach day does — clear skies, warm water, and an overinflated sense of confidence. I wasn’t looking for trouble. I was looking for a tan and maybe a few shell fragments. What I found was a sandbar with a vendetta and a rip current that nearly sent me to Poseidon’s living room.
What the Hell Is a Sand Flea, Really?
Scratching at Ghosts
You’re lounging on a Carolina beach, cold drink in hand, sun kissing your face, and then it starts — the ankle itch. The kind that makes you slap your own leg like you owe it money. Someone nearby mutters, “Ugh, sand fleas.”
But here’s the thing — what the hell is a sand flea?
Are they bugs? Crabs? Invisible demons? We’re putting this mystery to rest, once and for all.