Wind and waves finally subsided. Floodwaters were filtering through to somewhere underground where such waters return. Skies were still cloudy, and streets bore evidence of having been inundated by previous tides on the barrier islands.
Siding and roofs from some homes were gone. More than a few automobiles had been parked in salt water since the winds began to blow Nov. 13. Who will be the unfortunate owners of them after they get traded for something new?
Along beaches, massive amounts of sand vanished. Pumped from the sea at unthinkable cost to local towns and state government, the trillions upon trillions of tiny gray particles that fortified the towns had been relocated in short order by churning waves.
A bevy of government officials from alphabet-soup named agencies clustered when the sun shone brightly. Their task was to determine how much the damage would total, when all was taken into consideration.
This is where government’s rubber meets the road. When a Midwest town disappears because of a tornado, similar clusters occur. When hurricanes toss shrimp boats into bayous, the same things happen. This time, it was here, in Cape May County.
The governor had already signed necessary documents declaring the county to be in a state of emergency. From grassroots, the plea was to be made for more money from the federal government to repair dunes one more time.
If the government czars smile upon those wishes, it’s possible funds will enable dredges to again pump that same sand from where it is to where man would like it to be.
In this never-ending saga of life along the seashore, in a peninsula where fortunes depend in large measure on the sea, I wonder how long such actions and reactions will continue. Over and over we perform the same actions yet expect a different outcome. What is wrong with that line of thinking?
What if, in the midst of this dismal economy, Papa Washington told the Garden State gang, “Look, we’re broke. We can’t give you anything. Sorry?” What would happen?
Towns that had long relied on federal bailouts to protect their assets would be placed in serious jeopardy. What would happen then? Would owners of the threatened homes on the ocean be able to fund their own protection?
Since it’s the north end of each barrier island that gets whammed in each northeast storm, has anyone ever entertained the thought of breakwaters strategically placed to take some of froth out of waves?
Aren’t there enough old Navy destroyers and cruisers rusting away that could form low-cost obstacles in the ocean, and become fish-harboring reefs?
And what of the flooding on barrier islands?
Consider the plight of Five Mile Beach residents. At every full-moon high tide, especially when a storm closes in, the George Redding Bridge must be closed. Not because the bridge is threatened, but because the surrounding streets are flooded and thus are impassable.
With all the money that has been spent on a variety of things, why was it never envisioned to raise the highway into and streets east of that bridge? This is a matter of public safety, not merely an inconvenience, although I cannot understand how folks put up with such flooding for so long.
There are rows upon rows of new homes on the streets approaching the bridge. Most of them suffered water damage from the most recent flood. Were the owners never told that the area was flood prone before they bought them? Did the builders not know the area would be filled with water when bad storms roll in?
When it comes to street flooding, perhaps Wildwood’s engineers should talk to Cape May’s engineers regarding what was done in a section there known as Frog Hollow.
Frog Hollow would flood virtually every time there was heavy dew. It went on for years until a wise person hatched the novel idea to put pumps in to eradicate the problem. Since then, Frog Hollow doesn’t suffer as it once did.
Some call it thinking outside the box, that’s a trite saying, but it works.
Cape May County’s beaches are its economy, plain and simple. Without sandy strands to draw tourists, and the dollars they bring, we may as well be a county in western Pennsylvania or the Adirondacks of New York.
The question remains, can we continue on the course we have taken for decades shaking down government officials for money to replenish sand? Is there another way to protect that vital asset, or should the word “abandon” enter the picture?
If left alone, would the sand recently lost, return of its own accord in time? Would sand dunes enlarge themselves with sufficient bayberry and pine, dune grass and wild plantings dropped there by shore birds?
Indeed, this is where the swords of private property and government ownership cross. Which has the greater swing? Which will ultimately prevail?
Cape May – Governor Murphy says he doesn't know anything about the drones and doesn't know what they are doing but he does know that they are not dangerous. Does anyone feel better now?
