A Long Way To Go, Still

It took me this long to make my way back down to the new

 'ground zero', the old 'new' inlet at the eastern foot of the 

Mantoloking bridge.  As much as it seems to have changed here,

much still remains quite the same.  The dunes have since been

built up rather high; the most immediate remedy to the Atlantic

Ocean freely spilling into the upper Barnegat Bay.  But a lot of

the carnage that was chronicled in the days just after Sandy flowed

through these blocks of houses still remains.  I drove down this part

of the bridge, anticipating some leftover damage, but I wasn't ready

for the letdown that awaited me.  

How could this be?  These people have money.  They have resources.

They have connections.  Two and a half months later, why are there 

still houses uprooted and sitting crookedly in someone else's back-

yard?  And why is there an exposed sandbar where they once had

a somewhat deepwater slip?  This is still so unthinkable to me.

After crossing the bridge, I could only turn right and go south on

Rt. 35.  For anyone wanting to go north, they would need to prove

 they were residents or contractors.  There were cops, local and 

state, everywhere.  Lights were flashing and ID and documentation 

of residency were required to get through the checkpoint.  Still.

I drove for a few hundred feet, constantly looking to the east, 

until I came upon this sight.  It seems so long ago that all of this

happened.  It's shocking that so much is still the same as it 

was when it plopped itself down after the storm finally passed 

through.  I thought of a guy from Michigan when I saw this Sunfish.

More Kansas/Dorothy-like house relocation, but with a lot

more sand and beachy scrub pine trees.  No ruby red slippers

were spotted.  What a world.....what a world!

Ocean Beach destruction.  I wasn't really supposed to be able

to drive around these neighborhoods.  There were cops everywhere.

Nobody was supposed to stray from 35, nobody was to go more

than 25 mph, nobody was to stop their car, and  

most importantly, nobody was to get out of their car. 

Guilty, guilty, guilty, and guilty. 

A humbling sight next to...

.......a more humbling sight.  This pretty much sums up the attitude 

of Jersey Shore folk.  There's no other place they'd rather be.

Stairway to heaven.

After all this shit, someone still wants to build.  There you go.

No matter what part of the world you're in, if it's near the water,

people want to be there, and I can relate to that.

The view north from the Mantoloking bridge.  More or less halfway

 between the tallest water tower and the left side of the photo lies

829 southdrive.  My Grandparents' house was grand according to

1940's standards, but the houses that now occupy that lot on 

South Drive would cast long and tall shadows on that old building.

To this day and forever, that kills me.  Tough shit, man.

A full frame to the right, Herring Island was always a sight on my 

horizon.  It was a destiny to be reached, a mark to be rounded,

and an oasis to be revered.  I never dreamed it would be a witness 

to a natural disaster so devastating as the one the world saw last 

October. Toward the eastern end of this island lies a displaced

structure, sitting upright and surrounded by baywater.  

Upon further review, there sits the portion of some poor soul's 

family legacy, a family's generations-old summer house, a place

where the grandkids came every June through August to go to

the beach, to go crabbing, to sail, and revel in all the goings on 

that a summer house at the shore could afford.   

One hundred and eighty degrees from 829, the Mantoloking Yacht 

Club appeared unscathed.  I'm happy for them, for the houses 

to the left fared not so well. 

Consider this:  This photo, as well as the others, was taken on 

Monday, January 14, 2013.  These conditions still exist.

Even I assumed that all this shit would be cleaned up by now.

Remember, this is the first visit I've had down here since Sandy.

I've seen a lot on TV about Obama and Christie and FEMA

and Bon Jovi and Springsteen and The Who and McCartney.

But then every day I see folks from Staten Island crying because

they still have no power or water, and there's garbage and debris

piled up on their streets that's rotting away.  There are still 

thousands of  residents of the New Jersey barrier islands who

can't yet re-inhabit their houses because the gas, electric, and

water services have yet to be restored.  This is a crisis that

no one had ever imagined possible.  

It's amazing to me how bayside homes are sinking into their

foundations, while houses across the street and closer to the

beach are still upright.  

I felt obligated to visit my favorite boatyard before I headed back 

home.  After all, it lies just west of the Mantoloking bridge and 

it's on the way home so......  Rusty Manheimer's sloop didn't take

too well to the Atlantic disturbance.  If it were someone else's

boat I would be more worried.  But look where Sjogin is chocked

up.  If I were an old boat in need of some TLC, this yard would

be my emergency room, hands down.  Note the dude walking

in the background to the right.

Through the gaping hole, I took this shot.  The sardine stove has

since been removed, as well as Russ's library of salty, sailboat

literature.  I'm hoping he removed the books from the shelf before

Sandy came knocking.  He and I once sat down below here, 

drinking 'Full Sail' beer and chomping on pastrami sandwiches

made on Miami onion bread with arugula, stagianato, and

whole grain mustard.  A lunch I'll never forget.

I threw our Christmas tree in the back of my Expedition, with the

 intention of contributing to the dune-rebuilding effort going on at

the shore. They lay the trees down in the dunes and then pile 

sand on top, hoping that those trees will provide strength and 

longevity to those piles of sand. While driving up and down

 Rt. 35, I asked several people, cops and utility workers alike, 

where I might leave my tree to help bolster the dunes, in hope that 

our dead holiday memento might be of service to prevent similar 

devastation from occuring.  I might as well have had two heads.

Then I got to Beaton's.  There I saw a pick-up with a Christmas

 tree in the back.  I sought out the guy walking in the background

of the photo two photos back, and convinced him to take mine

with his to Cattus Island, where they were collecting trees to rebuild

the dunes.  Mission accomplished.  

On the way out on Beaton's Road.  If it didn't sink in by now 

that something wicked this way came, this image reminded me.