The Beach Without People

Quiet Moments in Asbury Park

It used to be easy to go to Asbury Park and take pictures without people in them. Now it's getting to be a challenge. Not that I dislike having people around - quite the contrary. But I think, when other people are around, people tend to look at other people.

And maybe we can miss some things. Things that we tend not to notice, but which are actually a big part of what attracts us to this place. The sea, the sky, the boardwalk, they all provide the stage set for summer's permanent floating celebration of being alive. 

In the off season, you get to look at the stage set. Above you have the Casino, at the southern end of the boardwalk, embellished with some modern arrivals. There are the murals, and then the plantings. 

This kind of a backdrop doesn't just happen. People - people with lots of talent - think hard and work hard to produce a view like this. All I had to do was point and shoot.

And then there's Mother Nature - beautiful, nurturing, and never far from powerful violence. We build bulwarks to ward her off - in this case to protect Convention Hall, further north on the boardwalk. And we have some success. People used to talk about conquering Mother Nature, or taming her. I think, nowadays, we're a bit wiser, and perhaps slightly more humble. 

In addition to Mother Nature, Asbury Park is blessed with some remarkable works created by human hands. Convention Hall is one of them. I don't think the architects, Warren and Wetmore, had any idea in 1927 that their structure would be reflecting a rather adventurous mural painted on the Sunset Pavilion. But the building definitely created possibilities, and it welcomes new arrivals. 

Last year I ran a story about layers at the beachfront. There are a number of distinct zones in the design of the beachfront, each of which provides a different experience. But I left something out. The strip just inland from the boardwalk contains the pavilions, with their restaurants and shops, and also a water park and a miniature golf course - remnants of the city's once-bustling amusement industry. I forgot to mention the "wild" patches that have arrived in recent years.

When James Bradley bought his 500 acres in 1870 to found Asbury Park, he proceeded to clearcut the whole area, and he leveled the existing dunes. The current effort to bring back some dunes does increase our resilience in the face of inclement weather, and it also provides us with at least an idea of what was here before Bradley launched his improvement project. To be sure, we are looking at highly manicured gardens, but I think they are a valid nod to the past. And I love them.

The absence of visible people does not mean the absence of life. Here we have a seagull looking at a ship that undoubtedly contains humans. Humans we will never see. 

Here's a human you can see - just barely. Sitting on a bench. Can you tell me which bench?

To paraphrase an old baseball saying, some days you win, some days you lose, and some days it rains.

These days, when I go to the beach in the off season, I'm hardly ever the only person there. But still I think each of us usually has enough space to commune quietly with the sea, and the sky, and the sand. I think the fellow above, standing on the jetty, virtually surrounded by water, might well agree. But let's not ask him. Let's leave him alone.

See also Layers at the Beach Front.