The Shore Sucks

I spent a week at the beach and I don’t know why

I spent last week at the beach, and I don’t know why. The Jersey Shore sucks.

The water’s cold, the beach is dirty, and the air smells like Neptune’s taint.

I’ll let Philly’s own Dead Milkmen explain why. Please play this on repeat while you read:

I grew up in the Garden State, and I love a lot about it. “The Shore” north of Cape May is not one of those things. But I get it; it’s all we got. Not everyone can drive three hours to get to a beach. And people come from as far as Quebec to get to the Shore, so laying in the sand beneath a punishing sun while a stink comes in from the sea must have some appeal.

I’ve been visiting the Shore, as we call it, since childhood. I have fond memories of crabbing in Seaside, and eating linguini in marinara sauce that my Grams made from what we caught. Fishing off the pier at Lanoka Harbor and catching my first eel. Walking the strand during as a storm rolled in on Long Beach Island. But once you’ve visited waters calmer than the Atlantic—the Gulf in St. Petersburg, let’s say, or the Caribbean Sea off Antigua, or the Pacific on a black, green, red, or white sandy beach of Hawai’i, the Jersey Shore is a poor substitute.

For one, the barrier islands that are a billion dollar tourist lure only exist because of engineering, and the beaches are still filthy with trash even after they are combed every morning by construction equipment, because of litterbugs. I remember when the daily paper would give the water quality, because of the fecal count, thanks to legal and illegal dumping. Why would you want to swim in that?¹

It’s better than roasting in the back yard, I guess. I’m flaunting my pool privilege here. My mom worked for a defense contractor, in the cafeteria, and they gave its diverse roster of employees access to an Olympic sized pool with a 20-foot diving platform in the summer. It didn’t get a lot of visitors from my racist hometown of Nutley—a town which has had multiple lawsuits when denizens tried to make pool clubs that discriminated by race—but we loved it, I made a lot of friends there, and I wrote about it in Bad Boy Boogie. I lived in deteriorating apartment complex for ten years, because they had a great pool. And I moved next to Philly, which has a lot going for it, but is also stuffed full of Pennsylvania drivers and awful Philly sports fans, because I could finally afford a house with a pool. But as far as beaches go, I always loved Cape May.

I’m not sure how much erosion abatement is required in Cape May, but the beaches there remind me of those off the Dingle peninsula of Ireland. (You’re damn right I visited Dingle. How could I not? And they don’t even harvest the berries.) People visit the marshlands to watch migratory birds, and now that they are protected from fishermen harvesting them for eel bait, the horseshoe crabs are making a comeback. It’s a longer drive from the northern part of the state, it is generally more expensive, but the Cape has a small town feel, a lot of history—from the railroad track that get exposed by storms every few years, to the visible wreck of a concrete-hulled ship, and bunker remains from World War II—and fewer tourist traps.²

Wildwood was the ultimate beach for Italian-Americans; they are even famous for “doo wop motels,” festooned with neon and ‘50s-era kitsch, some of which still remain. The rich white people went to Cape May, but it’s more accessible and affordable these days. And the frat boys won’t bother, because there aren’t any clubs. And it has a boardwalk, if you miss funnel cake and overpriced sausage and pepper subs.³

Sunset on LBI

LBI, as Long Beach Island is called by those who love it, certainly has some appeal. The rich, tree-lined, north side of the island, with Barnegat lighthouse, and the ubiquitous PRIVATE DRIVE—NO BEACH ACCESS signs, is quiet and beautiful. The lighthouse is sheathed in scaffolding at the moment, but the nearby Jen’s Links putt-putt course is a fun diversion, and you can watch the sunset over ship masts if you play the “high tide” course. A little up that way is Boulevard Clams, a seafood purveyor with the best value for oysters on the half shell, and the only place I found that served fried, whole-belly littleneck clams, instead of the chewy, cherrystone clam strips you find everywhere else.

The Arlington was my favorite restaurant on the trip. A good lobster roll, surprisingly good New Orleans-style shrimp and grits with a proper dark Cajun roux, and a great draft and cocktail list. I would even make the trip off-season to come try that again.

A crow captured at sunrise at Beach Haven.

The sunrise on Long Beach Island, Beach Haven in particular, is quite nice. It’s interrupted by construction vehicles combing the sand clean, so you think it’s pristine and not artificially engineered for your enjoyment. It’s their job, I don’t begrudge them, but the signs everywhere demanding that the planned wind farm be moved “35 miles out” when we’ve been paying to keep LBI in existence since as long as I can remember, is jarring. Rebuilding after Superstorm Sandy without a seawall was a mistake, and so is the government’s insurance for homes in this area. And after staying there a week… it’s not worth it.

Yeah, I’ll say it. If you want to live there, fine, but like the crumbs of southern Louisiana falling into the sea, we shouldn’t pay to rebuild it anymore. Especially on the yacht-infested side of the island, without beach access. If the denizens want to fight climate change abatement by working against renewal energy, they should not be bailed out when the inevitable occurs. That goes for Hoboken as well, if they fight the seawall that’s required to keep them afloat. I’ve lost all patience with resistance to fighting climate change.

I meant to drive to the south end of the island and hike the wildlife refuge, but it was a hot week, and I remember when I hiked to Hawai’i’s olive sand beach. The tropical sun is a bit more unforgiving, but the hike was worth it. And of course, I can’t drive 90 minutes to Hawai’i… but Cape May is just over an hour. I’ll visit Sea Breeze soon, it’s a forgotten gem of the Delaware Bay with more shore birds than people, which is my favorite kind of beach.

1. I mean, it’s not like we had a choice, if we wanted beaches. My mom found a resort in the Poconos with a pool and a small lake for fishing, that she afforded on a single parent’s salary, to save us from the feces water.

2. You will however, have to endure a lot of boutiques, and a Scandinavian store with Viking regalia.

3. Or hoagies, in South Jersey parlance.