Last summer, I took more trips to the Jersey Shore than ever before. Given what would happen later that fall, this seemed almost ironic. I have lived in northern New Jersey for most of my life, and can drive to the closest shore points in probably under two hours (assuming that traffic is not too stifling, which can be far too presumptuous if you don't take it into consideration). Yet, I cannot remember a single year where I actually had gone to the Jersey Shore more than once in a calendar year.
Memories
There had been several trips. Once, I even spent an entire week with a friend's family at a beach house, but that had been in mid-January of 1996. We got a break from the record amount of snowfall that was seen that winter, but needless to say, going to the beach right smack in the middle of winter is not at all the same as going when it is hot. It was nice enough, and there is always that wonderful appeal of perspective, as you look out to the farthest reaches of your field of vision, with little to no obstructions. A ship or two maybe (there were actually quite a few of them yesterday). But that is about it. You can actually see the beginnings of Earth's curvature. The beach is a wonderful place for contemplation.
I enjoyed that trip back in 1996. It was right next to Atlantic City, within walking distance of Harrah's. Yes, I gambled. But that is not the only thing that we did. One of those days, we took a trip to points further south, even going as far as Cape May. It was the first, and so far only, time that I had gone to Cape May to date. It was nice.
There are other places that I have gone to along the shore, for various reasons. I have been to Tom's River once. I have actually been to Asbury Park a few times, but the first was to go to the old Stone Pony to see a show (Type O Negative). More recently, a couple of years back, I went there to meet a girl on a date. This, again, was the middle of winter (actually, more like late December), but it was nice. It was dusk, and the sun was fast retreating. There was a strange, but beautiful, quality to it.
Otherwise, there were a handful of other trips to the shore.
But there was one destination that I just happened to go to more than once. Both were by chance.
That would be Sandy Hook. For my high school science class (it was Oceanography), we took a class trip there. It was a wonderful trip. There is just something very exciting about taking such class trips to nice destinations when you are young, and are with a bunch of other young people. I was the only one, I think, who took my shoes off and actually dipped my feet in the water, a fact that now seems surprising to me. Also, I remember sitting on a lawn during the lunch break, and one of the guys said something like this:
"Guys, I don't want to depress anyone or anything, but our group is the only one that doesn't have a girl in it."
Man, that was ever depressing!
But the next year, now in college (Bergen Community College) on a part-time basis, I would find myself going, once again, on a trip to the beach with young people. This time, it was not a class trip. Or, maybe it was some kind of organized trip, but was not under the pretense of being academic, or anything.
That trip was a lot of fun! There was a girl there, I remember her name being Patty. She and I flirted basically the whole day, and spent quite a bit of time together, as I remember. We even got in a tickling battle (which she won, as I recall - I'm unfortunately quite ticklish). Unfortunately, she already had a boyfriend (who was thankfully absent on that day). She was young and attractive, and it was just one of those things, on one particularly day. I don't even think I ever saw her again. She was a friend of a friend, and a distant one, at that. But for one day, we had fun together. It did not last, or mean anything, and nothing happened. My friends teased me about it for a while afterwards, but that was about it.
No, that was just a fun day at the beach. A bunch of young college students in the prime of their life, going to the beach for a day of sun and swimming (and flirting). There were bagged lunches and volleyball, and probably some other things that I am not quite remembering. Mostly, I remember being a horny young boy, and looking at all the attractive college girls. I was brand spanking new to college, having started in Januaray on a part-time basis, and so did not feel yet like I belonged in college, which seemed like the big leagues to me at that point.
There was a girl that I had a huge crush on at that point, and I am pretty sure she had a crush on me, as well. But she did not go on that day. She had to study for a final exam, I think (there may have been a chance that it was a paper, but I believe it was in math). She had playfully suggested that I stay behind to keep her company and, yes, believe it or not, I considered it. I really did like her.
Ultimately, obviously, I did go to the beach. Not sure how she took the news from her friends that this girl, Patty, and I had been flirting, especially since we had never met before.
In any case, I had some memories from Sandy Hook. I had always wondered about that name. It sounded so strange to me and, after I had built some memories of the place, and pleasant ones at that, the name conjured up only positive images for me.
Until last December, when there was a very serious school shooting of very young children at an elementary school in Connecticut named Sandy Hook. I still wonder about that name. Is the school situated close to a beach? Why that name? Maybe I am wrong, but Newtown seemed a bit inland to me.
Suddenly, though, the name "Sandy Hook" referred to something else entirely. Something ominous and dark, and these days, it usually is used in connection with the gun debate.
But I had been wanting to go back to the Jersey Shore for a long time. Ever since Hurricane Sandy, actually. Probably a bit before that, even.
So, a few weeks ago, when my girlfriend suggested it, I quickly agreed that we could do that. We were supposed to go last Friday, but both she and I were exhausted after very long weeks, and both of us also had to wake up very early on Saturday morning to work. It did not seem like a good time, and so that idea was shot down, although the weather was truly gorgeous weather, and appropriate for the beach.
We put it on hold, tentatively agreeing for the next Friday. May 17th.
Which is where we finally went. She told me to pick the place, and the one leading location was....you guessed it. Sandy Hook.
The Trip to Sandy Hook
So, we made the preparations. I had to get food and, running late, I went to the supermarket and picked up some ready made sandwiches, as well as some fruit. When we went last year, I remember that Basia had prepared some fresh fruit, like melon and strawberries. Perhaps some other berries, as well.
I forgot the berries, but picked up a melon and some bananas. We had plenty of apples, and some drinks for refreshment.
It seemed we were ready on that front.
When she got back home from work around 3:30pm, we took a quick inventory, and then, we were ready to go.
But she wanted to take the dog, and that, unfortunately, would prove to be the trip's undoing. She wanted to see how he would react, but that curiosity was not worth it, evidently. I predicted that he would be a big wuss about everything. She disagreed. It was time to see what would happen.
We left, and the GPS took us on a very long and annoying excursion. We headed south on 287, which connects with the Garden State Parkway right by the huge bridge where, for all intents and purposes, the Jersey Shore commences. It was maybe fifteen miles or so down as the crow flies, straight down this highway. But the GPS told us to turn off, head north on this road, connect to Rt. 18, then take the NJ Turnpike north for about four or five miles, then turn off, take 440 for a few miles, and then finally connect with the Parkway by that bridge. Needless to say, it took a long while. Now, there had been massive traffic on I-287 when the GPS had instructed us to turn off, so my initial response was, "Cool! A back way, to avoid the traffic."
Instead, this detour would prove tedious, and before long, we would be stuck in traffic that was jam packed.
But we got to the Parkway, and started to make better progress. Basia told me, just as we passed a rest area, that she really needed to go to the bathroom badly. I asked why she had not told me that literally a minute before, when we could easily have stopped.
When we got to the exit (maybe five minutes later), we found an Ihop, and I stopped. We did not eat or anything. In fact, she only went in there to pee. Those Ihop people were not going to get any patronage from us!
Then, it was back on the roads, towards Sandy Hook. At some point, we saw a sign for Union Beach. Sandy Hook seemed far away, since the GPS estimated roughly half an hour (it was only ten or so miles away), but we decided to try Union Beach. It was terrible, and nothing like I would call a real beach. It was a bay, but the beach itself was tiny, and the ocean was nowhere to be seen. To say that it was unattractive would be an understatement. There were signs of industry in the water, and if this was a real beach, well, then, it was the most depressing beach in the world.
Moving on, we headed back and towards Sandy Hook. So many things had delayed the trip already, but we did finally make it to Sandy Hook. The view of the ocean was simply spectacular, and very enjoyable!
I had taken the lighthouse as the destination point, but it proved to be fairly distant from our initial entrance. It was so far in, and so remote and seemingly devoid of people, that Basia said it was "creepy" and wanted to go back to the earlier parking areas for beach access.
So, once again, I turned back, and we finally picked a nice beach together.
But no dogs were allowed. We would have to go on the other side of the peninsula, where there was beach access open to pets.
Max (the dog) did get to walk a little on the beach, and his reaction was funny. His feet sank a little bit with each step, so he took exaggeratedly high steps, lifting his legs very high, at first. Eventually, later on, he got it. But those first few moments, he did not know what to do.
As for his reaction to the water? Well, I hoped we could see it on the other side of the narrow peninsula.
The only real problem with that side was that it sucked. Truly and deeply sucked. You get a view of the other side of the water, which was filled with homes and apartments and such. Not horrible, but not pristine, and with no great perspective. More importantly, however, this side was filled with pebbles and broken glass, and that was not the worst. The worst were these terrible, tiny little flies. Basia said she was getting bitten up, and before long, so was I. We had been there for maybe ten or fifteen minutes, barely enough time to start eating.
Still, it was time to go. We looked for a place with real beach access. So, we drove down, out of Sandy Hook and to some of the neighboring communities to the south. The beach access was private, for the most part. Little to no obvious public access, seemingly.
But we found a place, finally. No signs, either, so we brought Max.
I stuck my feet in the water, and it was cold! Basia stuck hers in the water, and ran away, making the dog run away. I picked Max up, and put him down as a small wave was coming. He got his feet wet, and ran away, past mommy (Basia) and up the small hill, as far away from the water as he could get.
Sigh.
I guess I won the bet. He reacted exactly as I had predicted. But it was a hollow victory. We were not having much fun yet. It was nothing like the trips to the beach we had taken last year.
I spotted a place to go sit for a little while, and we went there. It belonged to what appeared to be a restaurant, and there was an old man who kept coming in and out. She was worried that he was going to kick us out, but at some points, he looked directly at me, but did nothing. He was distant, and probably did not want to bother us. The place was totally deserted, so it was not like we were taking the space of potential customers, or anything. Maybe in a little over a week or so, after Memorial Day weekend, it will be a different story. But for now, it was fine.
So, we relaxed for a bit. I had my Kindle, an X-mas gift from her, and pulled it out, continuing to read Dan Brown's Inferno. But before too long, it became undeniably chilly. We both noticed and felt it, and it was time to go. Both of us were tired, and the sun had pretty much set by then.
Not quite the same caliber of memories, admittedly. Still, we did get that beautiful view and perspective that the ocean offers, as well as that relaxing, refreshing sound of the ocean waves crashing on the beach. Maybe not the best individual trip to the beach, but the first one for 2013. Hopefully, the first of many!
No comments:
Post a Comment