The Log of Das Boot 126 . . . My Trailer at the Jersey Shore
This of course is not a Log
in any true nautical or
maritime sense of the
word. Such modest works
of art can be found in
John Steinbecks excellent
Log of the Sea of
Cortez. But Steinbeck
was actually on a boat in the Sea of
Cortez, a Conquistador name for what has
been long called the Gulf of California. I am
on a trailer in the woods off route 9 just outside
of Stone Harbor and North Wildwood.
The closest bodies of water are the North
Atlantic Ocean and the Delaware Bay and
both of them are several miles east and west
of me. But in spirit I feel compelled to call
this a Log since my trailer-Das Boot-feels
more like a boat or a barge and yes even
an old Wolf Pack submarine than anything
on sagging rubber wheels in the middle of
the woods off old route 9.
All of this was validated when I brought my
seven year old grandson down to Das Boot
for the first time and he dug it like a seven
year old boy would dig it. At any rate, there
are many compartments-big, small, obvious
and hidden-throughout Das Boot. My
grandson immediately searched them all
out and inspected them with the thoroughness
of a mini-me Admiral Doenitz coming
on board for that very purpose. If he couldn't
stand up in the compartment he would
crawl half-way into it to check it out. His
natural curiosity revealed spaces to me that
I was unaware of up until the point of his
discovery.
Although he made no such remarks I could
tell he enjoyed the novelty of the design and
space of the trailer the way I did. All during
his week-end stay (in-between episodes of
Sponge Bob and his growing collection of
books) I would catch glimpses of him examining
the trailer from ceiling to floor. For a
while after his first visit he would point trailers
out to me on the parkway. His heightened
awareness of what a unique and fun
thing a trailer could be was one of my best
signs for doing the right thing in buying Das
Boot.
My brother Bob put me onto Das Boot in
the early spring of 2009. He lives down the
road in a more secluded campground in
what is called a Park Model. This living
space is as close to a house as you can get.
It is spacious, comfortable and contains a
variety of amenities. The tidal Diaz Creek
runs somewhat adjacent to the camp and
it's a very pleasant view. Suffice it to say I
was visiting him and his wife Jennifer at
every invitation and got to know the area
fairly well and began to enjoy the alternative
off-shore trailer scene.
Like so many life-long Jersey Shore aficionados
my brother loves to reconnoiter the
lay of the local real estate. This is not an
obsession, it just comes naturally. I am the same way and so are many of our friends.
We love scoping out properties, neighborhoods
and all otherwise good or best places
to live at the shore. Nothing-from a
Northface two man tent on a dune at
Higbee's Beach or a bait-shack on Grassy
Sound to a Champagne condo in Diamond
Beach or Anglesea escapes our attention
or speculation. So one day out on routine
patrol my brother spotted Das Boot. She
was in dry-dock at the edge of Shellbay avenue
just outside Adventure Bound Campground.
Upon closer inspection my brother
found a plastic red and white for sale sign
onto which was printed a very good price
and a phone number not too distant from
where I live. My brother called me the next
day. His quiet enthusiasm about it all was
infectious. I trusted his judgement and taste
for such things. Then I began to make plans
and some phone calls.
After the initial inquiries I took a day trip to
get a close look at what was called a 1986
Citation. The trailer was in good shape overall,
especially the interior. The asking price
was a negotiable number so we went
through a routine haggle. Once the price
was set it was a done deal within a week.
Suddenly I found myself with a trailer at the
Jersey Shore after over forty years of renting
rooms, houses, apartments, efficiencies,
shotgun-shacks, cottages, carriages houses,
converted garages, pup tents and tepees.
I was a little wiggy with the whole thing at
first but it was a good feeling since it wasn't like getting into a long term mortgage/equity
trip. Buying Das Boot was like buying a
used boat or car. Down the road you might
make a small profit but more than likely you
would break even or a take a minor loss.
But if you enjoyed the time and the place
with your family and friends...therein was
your priceless living equity. What it came
down to was this: If something really went
awry and you had to bail out you could row
away from it without to much repercussionfinancial
or otherwise. So I bought the Citation,
christened it Das Boot and jumped
into the laid-back hybrid world of seasonal
trailer park living at the Jersey Shore.
In addition to the tent, pop-ups and tiny
cabin areas our somewhat democratic
camp is comfortably packed with park models,
motor homes, rvs and trailers of all
shapes and sizes. Many of the above-especially
the trailers-have unique, makeshift or
even gerry-rigged additions to them. It appears
as if the owners just dreampt it up
and did it. Some are cheerful while others
are sterile; a handful are minor works of art
and less than a few are beat or ugly. Everything
else in the place is highly and proudly
maintained and a pleasure to be a part of.
And so are most of the people that live in
them. From my very first days in the campground
I got a strong impression from my new
neighbors (almost all of them strangers) and
the micro-community that I was now becoming
a part of. They were hospitable, friendly, informative and willing to give advice and
lend a hand or tool to any task on every
level. Everyone smiled or waved at me as if
I had been there all along. This through me
off a bit until I realized how right it was.
Building a deck is a perfect example regarding
the impressions cited above.Not long
after settling in I decided I needed a deck
for aesthetic and practical reasons. It would
be of basic design: low to the ground and
tight up against Das Boot. But it wouldn't
be a small job at 40 by 10. I expressed this
intention to my only actual old time Philadelphia
friend in the Camp, Tom "Tricky"
Howlett. After quickly figuring it out in his
head Tricky gave me a plan and an approximate
material price that I quickly agreed
to. The only tool I had to provide was a plastic
card from Home Depot. Tricky refused
pay unless it came in the currency of a 30
pack. We started the following week-end
and within two week-ends, with a little help
from our friends, the deck was done. And
every day we worked, people would stop
by and put their friendly two-cents in like
they do when your under the hood of car
for more than ten minutes.
As always, no matter where or how you are
living at the shore , the summer goes by too
quickly and the next thing you know you are
into the fall and the subtle but profound
changes that come with it. The air turns
crisp and cleaner. Teens and children disappear
back into school. Dead leaves fall
down with increasing intensity. The moon,
in any stage, appears more chilled and
melon-ripe. The nighttime fires and their rich
aroma seem more in tune than in summer.
Fall is when the pine cones drop and bounce
like harmless natural depth charges on Das
Boot's roof, awning and deck. Each hit signals
the coming end and a new beginning.
You see this as your neighbors begin to pull
things in and slowly shut their beloved operations
down. The campground begins to
shrink and fold in on itself with every passing
week-end. There is talk of "winterizing"
which is all new to me. I listen, take notes,
make lists and call the local RV center out
on Route 47. After a brief conversation or
two Das Boot seemed to be in very competent
hands as far as her winter drydock lay
up was concerned...All through the big
snows of 2009-2010 I dreamed now and
again of my trailer Das Boot during my first
summer on board her...And not one of them
was a nightmare.
Joe Van Blunk is a Freelance Writer who has written for the
Olde City Times, the Jewish Exponent and Chris Mottola
Inc., a national Media Consulting Firm. He is the Co-Creator
and Producer of three Documentary Films: including
Boardwalk. For the last fifty years he has spent part of
every summer with his family and friends at the Jersey
Shore. Mr. Van Blunk resides in South Philadelphia where
he supplements his income as an I.L.A. Longshoreman.
Visit http://www.heudnsk.com/ to view more of Ted Adams work
|
