Sandy Hook, NJ

Having lived most of my life in North Jersey, ‘going to the beach’ for our family has generally meant going to Sandy Hook. It is the a large sand spit, the extension of a barrier peninsula along the coast of New Jersey, separated from the mainland by the Shrewsbury River. The 1,665-acre peninsula is said to have been discovered by Henry Hudson.

I remember back when I was around 12, getting up early in the morning and driving over there with one of my father’s friends in his gleaming white Galaxy 500 convertible. He had an outboard motor and fishing gear in the trunk. At Highlands we rented a boat, fastened the motor onto the back of it and headed out to catch some fish. We’d go pretty far out but always remained within sight of the rise that is the Highlands, also reputed to be the highest point along the entire U.S. Atlantic coast. We generally never caught much until after I started getting sick.

‘Onkel Dick’, as we called him, was a true mentor. In those days, he taught me a lot and inspired me to do things out of the ordinary - like fishing, birding, and chopping wood. We both understood that I’d get sick and wouldn’t be able to eat my mother’s tomato and cheese sandwiches. But there was no shame in it and I learned to bear it. And he agreed to eat the sandwiches for me so that my mother wouldn’t get mad.

Later, having a family of my own, we contented ourselves with hitting the Hook’s beaches. None of us were on very good terms with repetitive wave-like motion.

Eventually we noted that the traffic and parking were becoming just to much too handle. So, we’d pick the off-season to go down there and commune with the sea. There was the excuse of eating seafood at Bahrs Landing, open year-round. The excuse became doubly attractive when the Hofbrauhaus up on the Highlands (overlooking the Hook) closed and Bahrs retained its German chef.

After lunch we’d drive down along the Hook and take in its various sights. There’s the old Nike base; the ghostly abandoned barracks; the bunkers and crumbling fortifications; and the still active Light House, purported to be the oldest in the country.

The beaches are as wonderful as any along the Jersey coast. There’s of course the ocean side; and, for those who seek calmer waters, there’s the bay.

The landscape even holds up in the winter, fresh and bracing. One is likely to encounter no one - just the people you might have come with.

Peter Koelliker; pkoelliker8@yahoo.com/