In July, I spent two weeks with my parents at their home on the Jersey Shore. I grew up going to the shore and it’s important to me. As a college student, I’d drive to the shore on New Year’s Day and sit on the dunes, watching the winter wind bend the grass almost flat and thinking about the year gone by and the one just starting.
In the summer, though, there’s not much chance for solitude at the shore. Luckily, my folks have a small fleet of kayaks, and they live on the edge of a small unit of the Edwin B. Forsythe National Wildlife Refuge, a 47,000-acre sanctuary for migrating birds that stretches along the coast. Paddling around the perimeter of “the sedge,” the salt-grass marshland that comprises the unit, takes a little more than an hour in calm water. I love kayaking, and I decided to try to kayak every day of my visit, recording the moods of water and sky. Some days it was just me. Other days involved a small flotilla. It’s lovely to revisit this peaceful interlude as the clock turns to autumn.
Days 1-3: on my own
July 3. This cloud formation was the most interesting thing I spotted during a late afternoon paddle on my first day in New Jersey. The sedge has several channels cutting through it, and I used those on this first outing. (Lauren Danner photo)
Kayaking around the sedge, it’s just me and the shallow waters of Barnegat Bay. On the eastern edge, houses jostle for the best views, but on the far side they disappear from view. It’s quiet. As I rounded the farthest corner on my first full trip around, I felt simultaneously slightly apprehensive and silly. The bay is inches deep at low tide. I could walk back to my parents’ place. But then, as my strokes propelled the boat along, past ospreys and oystercatchers and under terns shrieking their displeasure at my intrusion, confidence returned. I’ve done this before. I know what I’m doing. My enjoyment grew, along with deep satisfaction in my ability to paddle a mile or more around the sedge — in the effort, in the doing of the thing, in the ease with which I hauled my boat out of the water and onto the dock.
July 4. A layer of airy clouds provides some lightness against a threatening gray Independence Day sky. (Lauren Danner photo)
July 5. A strong outgoing tide and a relentless wind in the same direction meant it took me nearly a half hour to paddle a few hundred yards. This video is from the mouth of a lagoon. I was hanging onto a piling to capture a few moments of the weather, and said, “Sometimes, the wind and the water work against you.” I eventually turned back and headed into the lagoons on which most houses are built, enjoying the respite. (Lauren Danner video)
Days 4-8: the fleet expands
July 6. Out with Dad after thunderstorms, we were dive-bombed by nesting terns clearly unhappy with our presence. Clouds stretched across a dimming sky with little breeze. (Lauren Danner photo)July 7. My nephew Evan joined the party, and I convinced him to go kayaking with me, which he did every day until he left a week later. We talked politics and philosophy — when I could keep up with him, that is. Look at those cirrus clouds! (Lauren Danner photo)July 8. And now we’ve got the whole crew: my niece Hannah, Dad, Evan, my daughter The Artist, and her bff Claire (looking over her shoulder). Unfortunately we set out near dead low tide, and our boats grounded in the soft sand. We ended up walking across a portion of the bay, enjoying bathwater-warm water and keeping eyes open for crabs. (Lauren Danner photo)July 9. Another clear day. Paddling on days like this, you can see what’s going on under the surface, and I hung my feet over the side and let them trail in the water. That’s Old Barney, aka Barnegat Lighthouse, in the distance. Beaming its light over the inlet to Barnegat Bay from the far northern tip of Long Beach Island, the lighthouse has been an important marker for ships since 1857. It’s now part of a state park, and visitors can climb the 217 steps up a spiral staircase to the top of the light and take in the views. (Lauren Danner photo)July 10. By a week in, I’d learned to check the tide tables and plan accordingly. Going clockwise around the sedge, I tried to catch the end of an incoming tide, then paddle the rest of the way on a slack or gentle outgoing tide. This early morning photo shows what the grasses look like from water level. Birds, frogs, turtles, and other critters use the sedge for shelter and food. I spotted nine osprey on this trip, a meditative, rhythmic push-pull through rippled glass. (Lauren Danner photo)
Days 9-12 : kayaking with Mr. Adventure
July 11. Yesterday’s trip to Newark Airport sent The Artist and Claire back home and brought Mr. Adventure for a few days of fun squeezed between business trips. He’s always game to go kayaking, and we caught some beautiful cloud formations as the sun began to set. (Lauren Danner photo)
July12. Another low tide forced Mr. Adventure, Evan, and I to drag our kayaks across the back side of the sedge, an especially shallow area. (Lauren Danner video)
July 13. The weather started to steam up, humidity stifling the breeze and attracting greenheads, a particularly annoying biting insect. They move slowly, so if you’re patient you can easily kill them. The problem is it’s hard to sneak up on them when you’re wielding a paddle. Still, the glassy water and heavy air prompted Evan to remark, “Out here, I feel like I could just keep paddling for hours.” I know how he feels. I spotted a couple of turtles and startled a ray on this trip. (Lauren Danner photo)
July 14. On Mr. Adventure’s last day at the shore, we went out with Evan and my parents’ neighbor, Suzanne. She has a double kayak and offered to take the back seat to give me a clear view for photos. Suzanne led us through a new-to-me passage through the sedge, where irate terns swooped and scolded as we meekly paddled past. (Lauren Danner video)
Days 13-14: solo again
July 15. Out with Suzanne again, on an oppressively humid day. But spotting a formation of three rays swimming through the bay more than made up for the dozen greenhead welts I sported by the end of the paddle. Suzanne gave me some tips to improve my technique (I hope I still remember them next summer) and taught me to hack the kayak into a SUP by standing up in the boat. This view shows the houses on the eastern side of the sedge, lest you think the entire route is undeveloped. (Lauren Danner photo)July 16. Departure day. I had to get out early to get in a last paddle before leaving for the airport. The weather was still sticky, and the only thing happening on the bay was me, my boat, and the horizon. (Lauren Danner photo)
Just a few more…
Despite my best intentions, I can’t resist adding a couple more photos to give a fuller picture of this special place.
The return of the osprey to Barnegat Bay is one of the great success stories of species and habitat restoration. In the early 1970s, the once-flourishing Jersey Shore osprey population had fallen by 90 percent due to habitat loss from shore house construction and heavy use of the pesticide DDT. The worst impact was in Barnegat Bay. State biologists launched a program to create nesting platforms and place eggs from less DDT-soaked areas into active nests. It worked. There are now nearly 500 nesting pairs of osprey along the coast, a return to historic levels. Watching them is one of the delights of kayaking around the sedge, especially when they are teaching their young to be independent. (Lauren Danner photo)
My parents’ house looks west across Barnegat Bay, providing unobstructed views of spectacular sunsets. Drinks in hand, neighbors wander over to stand on the ground-level deck and chat as the sky fills with color, then slowly darkens. On promising evenings, I’d wait outside, iPhone and camera in hand, and take photo after photo. This series shows one sunset, the first photo taken at 8:17pm and the last at 8:42pm.
8:17pm
8:28pm
8:33pm
8:42pm (Lauren Danner photos)
Every day is different
It seems self-evident, but going out every day regardless of my mood or the weather was a good reminder that even places we know well aren’t static. My mom often says she can sit and look at the sedge for hours, because it’s always changing. Even in the space of two short weeks that was true. By now the grasses are starting to yellow, and new birds are appearing in the refuge on their way to winter grounds. It’s the off-season at the Jersey Shore, and the kayaking is excellent.
