4/27: New Jersey

We lingered in the sun for just over an hour while waiting for the 4:15 ferry across Delaware Bay to Cape May, NJ. This felt like a significant step to me after being focused on the act of just getting there for nearly a week.

The ferry itself is a commuter that mostly transports drivers between NJ and Delaware, so we may have been the only actual foot- passengers aboard.
The crossing itself takes 80- minutes, and with the perfect weather, gave us an opportunity to wander about, take pictures and just relax, basking in our badassitude. I also discovered that my heel had healed to where I could wear my boots once again, and was able to determine that much of my misery was likely caused by my sock liners... that were supposed to prevent blisters!

Once off the ferry, I filled up on water to the sounds of Glenn Beck preaching Gloom 'n Doom over the Apocalypse of the Month: Swine Flu. We both recited in unison the line from "V for Vendetta": "I want everyone to remember WHY THEY NEED US!" I wondered what new "legislation" would be sure to follow on the heels of this, and in advance of the implementation of Codex Alimentarius in December. Not that anyone will care, of course.

From the ferry terminal, it was off to find beach, and hopefully bikini. We never found the Tropicana models, but boy, did we ever find the beach. Not even a mile away, on the Bay side of the Jersey peninsula. This meant that we could cook Chris's concoction of rice and mac & cheese (there ya are, Steve!), and watch an intense sunset while alternating between camera and spork.

The beach was nearly deserted, save dog walkers, a couple of families, and the typical sunset watchers. There were also rolling mini- dunes directly behind us which, with a little sly action, would provide the ultimate camp site for the night. We are not short on sly.

We waited until the beach was deserted, which was a matter of minutes after sunset, then walked a couple hundred yards away from the access until we found the perfect spot. In the bivies we'd be hidden from morning beach traffic, but still have a grand view of the ocean, moon, and sky full of stars. Not to mention the sounds of surf all night. I could not have painted a more perfect place.

Once nestled in, there was a funny, familiar scene replayed in duplicate. We were ecstatic, and began to call people in a vain attempt to share the joy. Just as I had called Chris, Eric, & Shalain from the beach in Santa Barbara, and while riding the freight train thru Oregon. We felt like we were absolutely tuned in and, in an odd way, like we were being "rewarded" for our patience, calm, and serenity of method over the past couple of days. We were fully immersed in that same joy and rush of pure energy that we had tapped into in Albuquerque, and tried to articulate between ourselves where it was coming from. It again, as always it seems, came back to the side- car analogy. Taking the role of the ultimate observer in the drama that is your own life... and not getting caught up in the mundane, bullshit- details that consume us most of the time. It was a striking conversation that perfectly complimented the night before, at the state park in Denton.

We were up chatting on adrenaline until nearly 2am, and just before fading away, I had one of my "wake 'n sleep" moments. This happens when the comparison of the place I awoke with the place I went to sleep is dramatic. From the woods in Maryland, to the ocean in New Jersey. Nice!

Fittingly, one of the observations that were made surrounded how struggle helps to highlight these moments of mini- enlightenment. If everyday were like this, they would be meaningless. Tuesday would be a stark reminder of this for me.