My strategy of avoiding metro New York commuter traffic by leaving home at an ungodly hour this morning got me to Beach Haven, NJ in a cozy four hours. I found my way to the beach house by Zen, relying on hazy memories of visits to Charlie's old place next door. The groom himself has not stirred since my arrival, so I sit looking out over the sun kissed surf and thinking how this sure beats anything else I would normally be doing on a Friday.
Summer crowds are gone but summer lingers and I plan on plunging into the ocean when I finish this post. Beach Haven hasn't had a fatal shark attack since 1916 so the odds are definitely in my favor. There is a father and son duo digging the world's least necessary foxhole in the sand on the beach. The Dad is up to mid thigh at this point and if he were planning a clambake I'd say he was cooking for 60. Two brown pelicans just flew by, which startled me because I had no idea they ranged this far north and according to the US Fish & Wildlife Service their normal northern limit on this coast is Virginia. Apparently there have been a number of them along this part of the Jersey Shore this summer.
I've got two wireless bars to blog with and a gorgeous day to enjoy. I understand surfboards, fluke rigs, crab feats and late night poker are part of the planned day's festivities for the groom and his entourage. Throw in the guitar and mandolin I see on the couch next to me and I'd have to say a little piece of heaven has slipped down from the firmament and landed in New Jersey.