No Mere Biosphere

Strangely situated within the otherwise populous state of New Jersey, not far from adjacent cities Philadelphia and New York lies an ecological wilderness known as the Pine Barrens. It features its own unique climate, ecosystem, wildlife and history, not to mention a fabled winged monster- The Jersey Devil.

The remains of the Harrisville Iron Furnace

The dearth of development in Ocean County’s Pinelands stems back to the days of European colonization when the area’s sandy soil was deemed largely unsuitable for growing and farming.

Nevertheless, the Lenni Lenape Indians who inhabited the region long before their arrival used controlled fires in the pursuit of cultivation and hunting, a practice more or less still employed today.

The Penn Branch Trail

Through the years, everything from iron, charcoal, paper, cabinetry, cranberries and blueberries were produced in the Pine Barrens. Some parts are said to have been the site of liquor bootlegging and smuggling by crime organizations. As a result, there remain not only ghost towns in the wake of those previously stated industries but, allegedly, abandoned remains of stills and the graves of victims silenced by Prohibition-era hit men(!)

Other areas feature somber reminders of tragedy. A monument to Emilio Carranza marks an area in the town of Tabernacle where the Mexican aviator was killed while returning to Mexico City from New York.

Memorial of Emilio Carranza

Campgrounds are readily available as are ideal opportunities for hiking, cycling, kayaking, canoeing, fishing, hunting and horseback riding.

While over one million acres of the Jersey Pine Barrens have been designated as a National Reserve and International Biosphere Reserve, conservation continues to be a primary concern as well as that of potential forest fires.

Jersey Devil statue--no one dares tear it down!

Hopefully, the future will see the Pinelands remain the largely pure and undeveloped landscape it has managed to stay thus far. Of course whatever that future brings could be just as cryptic and inscrutable as the Barrens themselves on a quiet, dark and shadowy New Jersey night.

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Christopher Robinson

Tip of the Ship

While driving around Cape May down the Jersey shore, this blogger once stumbled upon a curious sight just off the shoreline in an area known as Sunset Beach. It appeared to be the rusted portion of some kind of structure poking up straight out of the water at high tide. As the people in the vicinity paid little attention to it, I concluded that whatever it was, it had been there for a while.

Later, I learned this haunting anachronism I accidentally encountered was, in fact, the wreck of the S.S. Atlantus, one of an elite few concrete ships built for World War I’s Emergency Fleet circa 1918.

The Atlantus was actually launched a month after the end of the war, built by the Liberty Ship Building Company in Georgia to serve as a transport for returning U.S. troops. They radically opted for concrete as an alternative to steel which was in short supply during the war. The availability of steel soon saw the decommissioning of the concrete ships after the war had ended.

In 1926, while awaiting a new role in a ferry operation in Cape May County, the Atlantus broke free during a storm and ran aground 150 feet from the coast where the eroded hull still peeks above water today. For a time, a painted billboard hung on the wreckage advertising boat insurance.

We will inevitably see less of the historic shipwreck as years go by, epitomizing the temporary nature of history itself. Perhaps it symbolizes our perspective in the overall scope of history where the salty waters of time continue to slowly wash away that which remains of the past.

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Christopher Robinson