Windsurfing a Fresh Gale at Barnegat Light Inlet

When you are an East Coast windsurfer you learn to read weather maps - isobar maps to be specific.  Without  getting into a geeky discussion about barometric pressure and meteorology, the best isobar maps for windsurfing look like a tightly whorled fingerprint.  When one of these giant fingerprints is off the coast of NJ the skies darken, the winds shift to the Northeast and  begin to increase steadily until it is blowing a gale.  My favorite colloquialisms for describing  big winds like this are: "the dogs are blowing off their chains",  or "it is blowing like stink".

Jack Bushko is a legendary waterman on Long Beach Island, a great windsurfing artist, and just a great bloke.   We would consult the tide charts the night before a predicted Nor'easter and begin the preparation for the next day's assault. To this day we are not clear whether we were the assaulters or the assaulted; on the best days we were a little of both.

The best spot for launching in a Nor'easter is at the Barnegat Light inlet in the lee of the South jetty.  Here there would be shelter from the river-like current and the shore break would be relatively manageable.   That was the good news.   The bad news was it was the widest part of the beach on all of Long Beach Island which meant that EVERYTHING that you would need for a day of sailing had to be schlepped the 400 or 500 some yards to the water's edge.  Here is a brief list of necessities:   a rigged sail  (better rig the right size!), board, wetsuit, harness,  a bottle of water.  Doesn't sound like much?  Oh I forgot to tell you.  The wind is already blowing 25 knots +, there is a sandstorm blowing across the beach that will scour you, and you have to make the walk IN your wetsuit (no cheating!).  Forget a little something like "the universal" that joins your sail to your board, a batten, a replacement harness line, or a fin screw and you have to walk up and back again in the howling wind at which point you are practically spent.

There is a sandy reef that runs diagonally from the South  monument, about a half mile out, to a spot down beach near the old wreck.   When you've seen and heard the waves breaking in a white tumult on this reef and seen the currents sweep by at 3-4 knots you will understand how Barnegat Light inlet is the second most dangerous inlet on the East Coast after Hatteras, NC.  The mast of the old wreck that used to poke out of the sand was only one of dozens, maybe hundreds claimed by these waters.   More than a century ago unscrupulous locals would lure naive sailors to these treacherous waters by lighting bonfires on the beach.  Piracy was a large and accepted part of the local economy.

Stepping off a perfectly good and safe beach and onto a windsurfer in these conditions is accompanied by intensified emotions.  An experienced wave sailor learns quickly to relax: relax your arms, relax your hands, relax your shoulders, relax your feet, but most of all relax your MIND.  The littlest bit of extraneous energy spent in rigidity will quickly drain one of physical energy and leave you sucking wind on the beach.   I know it sounds weird, but if you can  put a semi smile on your face it really helps.

Speeding across the water with a rooster tail 20 feet behind, the black green sea is a mogul field of mast high waves with deep troughs.   Some waves you jump, you drop off the back of others, and some you just plain avoid.  And then there is that moment when you recognize that you are holding the wind in your hands and the sea is at your feet and you are at the nexus of great elemental forces.  I can testify that at this moment the mind is on the razor's edge of the NOW.  The senses become extraordinarily sharp and time actually slows down.

Riding a jacked up wave towards the beach is the best.  There are broad, smooth spots in front of these waves at low tide that allow for bottom turns, cut backs, and then speedy jibes just yards off the beach.   When the tide began rising the conditions would quickly turn into to pure chaos.   The flat spots in front of waves would just disappear.   The  organization of waves, know as "sets" would degrade into washing machine-like heaving.    The shore break would deny access- one attempt after another.  At this point Jack and I would haul our gear back on the beach and watch the latecomers struggle with the now impossible conditions. Meanwhile,  intrepid anglers standing on the edge of the beach with their lines in the water must have thought us mad to be out in these conditions.  What a brilliant madness!


The author, Philip Stephano, is owner of PrimalTweet a social media marketing company in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano

80th street beach, Harvey Cedars, NJ

As a boy the white sand beaches of Harvey Cedars were a world of pure freedom and joy.    The first order of business upon arriving at the shore at the beginning of summer was to take active measures to toughen one's feet.   On the walk up to 80th street beach there would be patches of soft asphalt, hot from the sun.  You would learn to search these spots out as the gooey surface was a relief from the biting pavement.   By the time July rolled around our feet would be leathery and calloused enough to run across the blazingly hot white sand and catapult into the cool, blue-green water.

      You could tell the "tourists"  from the regulars on 80th street pretty easily.   If someone wore a watch or shoes onto the beach they were clearly day trippers. Likewise, children my age who were wearing bathing suits instead of regulation cut-off jeans were unlikely to be around for more than a weekend.  These strange people would go to the beach with towels and put on sunblock!  

     Adults seemed not to understand the beach at all.  They would come to the beach with a convoy of gear:  beach chairs (?!), umbrellas, coolers filled with contraband beverages, books, cigarettes and everything necessary to remain stationary for the day. 

    For children being stationary was something to be avoided.  The beach offered almost complete freedom.  We would run along the edge of waves surging along the beach, side by side with the sandpipers.   We would have epic battles with kites we bought at "The Ship's Wheel" for a dollar.   When the ice cream man would ring his bells we would launch a full scale lobbying effort on Mom for enough change to get a creamsicle.  Once in a while Mom would indulge us and during the brisk sprint across the hot white sand we were grateful for the investment we had made in toughening up our feet.


The author, Philip Stephano, is a social media marketing strategist in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano

Tacking into Kinsey Cove under sail

Many of you who have seen me tack "Misterioso" into Kinsey Cove powered only by wind may wonder, "how do you do it?"  The answer goes back 40 plus years.  I learned how to sail on a small scow-shaped boat called a "Butterfly".   A little bit more high tech than a Sunfish and quite a bit smaller and simpler than a Lightning, the Butterfly was, for me, pure freedom.

I learned how to sail the Butterfly on the cove, maneuvering in and out among pilings.   The predominant wind here in the summer is southwest.  This presented no problem in getting out of the cove to the Barnegat Bay.  From there I would often spend all day "discovering" all the hidden places of the bay.

West winds were the worst.  They brought greenhead flies, which were easy enough to kill, but unfortunately only after they were already biting you.   West winds also would choke the entrance to Kinsey Cove with thick mats of eelgrass.   It was impossible to sail through the eelgrass so I would pull myself back into the cove using the bulkheads as leverage or I would paddle.  To this day the west wind evokes feelings of restlessness and irritability in me.

In the southwest wind the channel was clear back into the cove but it was dead upwind.   The wind would careen through the channel bouncing off of the houses and often came from two directions at the same time.  As a result I learned to zone out my conscious mind, forgetting what direction the wind was "supposed" to be coming from and FEELING the zephyrs on the fine hairs of my cheeks, my ears, or the back of my neck.   You learned to squeeze as much momentum as possible from every favorable puff.   You also learned to use every inch of the channel,  waiting until the last inch before tacking in a game of chicken with docks and bulkheads.   Finally you learned NOT to try to do this on a Sunday in summer, on the 4th of July, or any other day when the channel was full of other boaters.   Nothing kills momentum like yielding to powerboat whose skipper is yelling at you to get out of his way. LOL

Translating this skill set into sailing almost thirty feet of yacht up the narrow channel of the cove presented no particular problem.   I was aided by the fact that "Misterioso" carries momentum extremely well and corners on a dime.  The one thing I have to pay attention to is  the aft end which seems to trail languidly according to its own sense of time and space.

The author, Philip Stephano, is owner of PrimalTweet a social media marketing company in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano

Top 10 reasons to have a house on Kinsey Cove

1. One block walk to 80th street beach, the best beach on Long Beach Island
2. Eating a "Noonie Burger" at the counter at Neptune Market
3. Walking 1/2 of one block to happy hour at The Plantation
4. Sailing a small boat on Kinsey Cove
5. Watching your kids swimming in the Cove from the comfort of your deck
6. Reading a book while a Nor'easter is blowing
7. Hearing the surf from your deck while looking over the shimmering lights reflecting on the Cove
8. Having a cookout with friends while watching a spectacular sunset
9. Taking a quick dip in the Cove on a sweltering hot summer day
10. Riding a bike or taking a boat to Sunset Park in Harvey Cedars to watch fireworks on the 4th of July



The author, Philip Stephano, is owner of PrimalTweet a social media marketing company in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano

Chess visitors to the Kinsey Cove house

Grandmaster William Lombardy is considered to be the greatest Roman Catholic chess master since the 16th century cleric Rodrigo (Ruy) López de Segura .  I studied chess for several years with Lombardy.  On a couple of occasions I had the pleasure of entertaining him at the house in Kinsey Cove.   We would smoke fine cigars and analyze end games and middle game strategies for hours.


The children loved having Grandmaster Lombardy around for a visit.  They jokingly called him "grandmother."   In the mornings Lombardy would walk around in pajama shorts with his skinny and blindingly white legs an incongruous attachment to his rather portly figure.  He would fill a mixing bowl with breakfast cereal and eat it with a serving spoon.   One evening, after a good meal and a glass of scotch Lombardy stood on the deck and serenaded the cove in a lovely tenor voice, singing "Ave Maria" into the night and the twinkling lights.


Another frequent visitor was international chess master Emory Tate.   In contrast to GM Lombardy's classical style, Tate is more of a chess Ninja.  His tactical  prowess is the stuff of legend and he is widely regarded to be among the strongest African-American chess players in history.   Tate has the great gift of story telling.   When recounting a chess game his narrative is peppered with colorful and evocative language that seems more apropos of a martial arts contest than a chess game.  "Swizzle sticks" is castling.  "Sweeper/sealer" is a tai chi pawn move.  The fork of two pieces by a pawn would be accompanied by  a delighted exclamation of "squeak!" followed by "deal with it muthaf--ker!".   When one of his attacking pieces would penetrate into a broken defense, Tate would klaxon, "intruder alert, intruder alert".   In addition to being one of the most entertaining chess players in America, Tate is a master wordsmith and a brilliant poet.    We would always keep the Oxford English dictionary within reach to plumb the etymology of our far reaching wordplay. 


My good friend in Christ, Fritz Ukstins, and I are patzers by comparison to these geniuses.  When Fritz comes to the house we cook up a couple of steaks and enjoy a meal together before  retiring to the dining room overlooking the cove.  There we play endless games of blitz chess (5 minutes for each player for the entire game)  and sometimes analyze a game or two from the masters like Tal, Keres, or Bronstein (our favorites).    The night frequently ends watching the Philadelphia Phillies play a seemingly meaningless game in the middle of June.  To a  true baseball fan like Fritz even an early season game like this is riveting and full of import.  To me, the sound of the game is a sleep inducing drone at the end of a fun evening of chess and fellowship.

The author, Philip Stephano, is owner of PrimalTweet a social media marketing company in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano

A fishing trip from Harvey Cedars to Barnegat Light

Sometimes my son Theo and I would load our 17' whaler with fishing gear and head out at the end of the day to catch the flood tide at Barnegat Light.  We would fly across the bay to the Double Creek Channel and wind our way along sedge islands and shallows towards the inlet.  At all times we would have our eyes peeled looking for the telltale signs of fish: splashing water, other boats, and working birds.

One late afternoon we fished the inlet for about half an hour with light tackle and silver spoons with treble hooks. Nothing.  No birds working, no action.  We cruised back to the swirling shallows across from the lighthouse and saw a school of bait fish in an  energetic mass moving along the edge of a channel.  There were no birds working and the school was undisturbed.  We had gotten to them before the blues or the stripers had even discovered them.  We began casting lightly with anticipation when all of a sudden.....STRIKE.....and then another STRIKE!    A school of striped bass had found the bait fish and were moving in.   We must have caught and released 15 fish before another boat saw us and soon another.  Before long there was a small armada of anglers joining the fun.

I have to admit that I'm not a good fisherman.  Most of the time Theo and I get skunked.  It is VERY gratifying to be at the right place at the right time when the fish are biting on the Barnegat Bay.

The author, Philip Stephano, is owner of PrimalTweet a social media marketing company in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano

Sailing by the wind or sailing to the mark

From Kinsey Cove to the Great Barnegat Bay is only a short sail.  The bay, from  the town of Barnegat to Tom's River, is deep with plenty of water to maneuver.   This is where I would teach the children how to "sail the wind." Tightly hauled and with a variable wind there are opportunities to make extra headway to windward on the lifts.  A lift is when the real or apparent wind clocks around to the beam a degree or two which allows one to gain ground to windward.  This is a "feeling" thing for a sailor.  On a broad or beam reach sailing the wind also meant sailing the waves and it is fun to slalom down the face of the chop or round up to bleed off a gust. I'm happy my children learned the joy of "sailing the wind."

Sometimes we had a destination and it meant we had a mark to make.   My brother Michael says, "nothing ruins a good sail like having a destination." There is more than a little truth to this. Nevertheless, sometimes you do need to actually get somewhere or it is important to stay in the channel.   The children would always ask when I gave them the tiller of Misterioso, "should I sail the wind  or sail to a mark?"  While sailing the mark required a little more discipline and a little more attention to the main sheet, at the end there was the reward of having arrived somewhere powered only by the wind.   When you sail to a swimming hole or a distant anchorage for a picnic it really feels as if you have discovered it yourself.  Never mind that there is a raft of  power boats already at your destination; this is your secret discovery and in your mind you are as clever as Magellan.


The author, Philip Stephano, is owner of PrimalTweet a social media marketing company in Bucks County,  PA.  He is passionate about helping local and regional business around the country to use social media as an effective tool to find local prospects and customers. To learn more about Stephano go to http://about.me/philipstephano