Jersey Shore Magazine
Issue link: https://www.ifoldsflip.com/i/141619
BEACHCOMBER continued from page 17 Frank Finale is the author of the books "To The Shore Once More, Volumes I & II" and "A Gull's Story, Parts 1, 2, and 3" as well as coeditor of the anthologies "Under A Gull's Wing" and "The Poets of New Jersey." Mr. Finale will be meeting readers and signing books at numerous events this season. Please refer to pages 14 - 15 for more information about his books and appearances. j e r s e y s h o r e • s p r i n g 2 0 1 3 she says. "I came here when I lost a person I loved, who also loved this spot. It's kind of my open-air church. When I leave; I'm reborn." The bluefish too will return. I remember last summer seeing the ocean boiling white with numerous birds fluttering above. Astonished, I asked one of the fishermen, "What am I actually looking at?" He said, "A feeding frenzy, bluefish chasing bait fish, forcing them out of the water where the terns can get them." Sometime in April, my village friends from the fishing club will again charter a fishing boat from a marina in Point Pleasant and putter out the inlet pursuing their favorite past time, fishing for flounder. Then a couple months later, they will go fishing for fluke. As the days grow longer and warmer, the din of rebuilding (buzzing saws, hammering nails, pounding pilings) at the Jersey Shore goes on. I look forward to the Barnegat Bay and the Atlantic Ocean brimming with life...blue claw crabs, beach plums, feathery phragmites, and the fragile-winged Monarchs returning. However, I am not looking forward to the return of the Jersey mosquitoes and persistent greenhead flies. I do look forward to the vacationers who will gather at the Jersey Shore once more, thus proving our people can weather any storm...even Sandy. Belmar Fishing Pier, October 29, 2012, about 10:00 AM. photo by Margie Moore 18 Sandy's Arrival by Margie Moore B elmar is the town I grew up in. My parents built our first home right on First Avenue, across the street from Shark River Inlet. I have great memories from living there, especially of the ocean and inlet. I especially remember when big storms were coming, my father always walked my brother, sisters, and me down to the bridge on Ocean Avenue to see the big waves rolling up over the jetties and filling the inlet. Living so close to it back then, the ocean was a big presence in my childhood. It is natural for me then, whenever big storms might be coming close, to go down to the place I remember the most and see what I can see. I love sending my sisters pictures of these moments too since we all share these memories. On the morning of Sandy, I knew at least Belmar's oceanfront would be closed off before noon. So at around ten, I took my camera and drove down. Parking near the Belmar Fishing Club, I could see crashing waves that were all ready as high as the club's pier, and high tide had all ready passed. I could tell this storm was everything the forecasters predicted it to be. The next stop was the Avon side of the bridge. Time would be short here—the water was already washing under and past the boardwalk. I did start to think that maybe I should not be there, but felt I had a few minutes to get some pictures. You could not hear anything but the sound of the roaring ocean. The sand was pelting the cars as they drove by. There were still some thirty people on the bridge watching, though it was hard to keep balance in the wind and the police were starting the process of clearing the area. I balanced my camera on the