The Last of Us
Before a TV series, it was a video game. Fungus-infected zombies aside, much of the storyline of The Last of Us takes the main characters across a mostly abandoned America where the signs of humanity persist, yet in a faded state, and the absence of humans has an eerie vibe. I remember watching the series over the summer, and thinking and chuckling to myself, “These are our shore towns, after Labor Day.”
But it’s not entirely untrue: it’s amazing to me how quickly nature regains its place in our favorite landscapes, like the gulls and terns that blanket Cape May’s Cove Beach the Tuesday after Labor Day weekend, as if to say, “Your lease is up. See you next year.” I’ve waxed poetic about this time of year before, and yes, I told you last month that autumn is the greatest season in Cape May (and I still believe it), but winter is when my inner introvert fully exhales. A promise of quiet, and the chance of unseasonably mild weather, mean one thing: it’s time to explore our barrier beach towns and see what we can find.
Stone Harbor and Avalon are perfect destinations for a winter frolic, especially if the wind isn’t too harsh (so be sure to check that first!). A hike out to Stone Harbor Point on a sunny winter day can be surprisingly exhilarating, and the more frigid the forecast temp, the fewer people you’re likely to run into. In some years you might even be greeted by a Snowy Owl, a denizen of the Arctic that finds something in the dunes and swales of Stone Harbor Point that likely remind it of its stomping grounds in the Arctic. A cold winter sunset at Stone Harbor Point, or from the road at Nummy Island, can reveal Northern Harriers and possibly Short-eared Owls, the former having been extirpated as a breeder in the state, and both now representing migrants using the region as migratory stopover habitat, or a winter residence. Both species will hunker down into invisibility in the landscape during the day but become active as the sun slips below the horizon.
Back on the Point, you might catch a glimpse of a plump sand-colored sparrow, the “Ipswich” subspecies of the Savannah Sparrow. It breeds on Cape Sable Island, off eastern Canada, and winters from the Carolinas north, but is densest on the coast of New Jersey. While you could—and should—gaze out into the Atlantic from Stone Harbor, you can get even closer to the action at Avalon, which juts out into the ocean another mile. If the loneliness is getting to you, and the date is before December 22, head over between 8th and 9th street on the beach and stop in to visit Cape May Bird Observatory’s outpost, the Avalon Seawatch. The staff Seawatcher will have been out there on most days since October 1st and will likely enjoy the company as well (even more if you bring a warm doughnut for them), and happily tell you about the hundreds of thousands, if not over a million, seabirds that have been tallied thus far.
Of course, if zombie apocalypses are more your style, there are some not-so-secret haunts among the stunning oceanfront homes in Avalon. Without incriminating myself, I’ll say that a little search on Google Earth reveals a particular location in the dunes where the local kids have clearly enjoyed themselves. Tucked between a heron rookery and the ocean, this abandoned lot just oozes flashbacks from The Last of Us.
From natural solitude to scenes of a zombie apocalypse, Avalon and Stone Harbor have enough little gems to keep you busy through the winter, and of course, if you find your own secret spots, be sure to share them with me. I promise not to write about them…