Elizabeth and I are in New Jersey, which just received a foot of snow from a major storm three days ago. Freezing temperatures during the intervening days have ensured that almost all of the snow is still around.
I’d wanted to visit Sandy Hook for a long time. Most people think of it as a hugely popular beach, but it’s also one of the few places on the Jersey shore that’s still in its natural condition, with its dune and woodland vegetation intact. The weather would be clear today, so why not go see it in the snow?
We drove toward the ocean on Route 36 under high, flat clouds. At the shore, we turned north into Sandy Hook. The road was empty. Signs, intended for summer beachgoers, warned of heavy outbound traffic in the afternoon.
The parking area at the visitor center was surrounded by mounds of plowed snow. Wind-blown drifts curved onto the asphalt and turned into ice. It was 35 degrees with gusty winds.
We took the Old Pine Trail near the visitor center. The snow on the trail was packed down by a few footprints, but it was still deep and powdery.
I was thinking this wouldn’t be a very long hike.
I don’t own a pair of hiking boots or even waterproof shoes. I stopped wearing those years ago when I realized I never needed them. Instead I just hike in running shoes: they’re light, so you can hike longer and faster, and they’re breathable, so your feet stay cool and dry most of the time but don’t get waterlogged when it’s wet. Likewise, I never bother with hiking socks. I simply wear nylon dress socks: they’re hydrophobic, last hundreds of miles, and cost about a buck.
But one look at the snow on the Old Pine Trail and I knew my usual footwear wouldn’t be serving me well today. My only hope was that it would be cold enough for the snow not to melt through my shoes.
The forest, on the other hand, was entirely charming. The trees were no more than twenty feet tall. Their leaves were as green as if it were summer. But, remarkably, their branches were still covered in pure, white snow.
There was American holly with its glossy, spiny leaves. Next to it was eastern juniper, a conifer with dark leaves and waxy blue berries. Black cherry was the lone deciduous tree, conspicuous by its curving branches and black, scaly bark. I’d often seen black cherries growing over 100 feet tall in the forests of Pennsylvania, but here they barely grew over my head.
The forest gave way to dunes of blond grass as we got closer to the ocean. But instead of sand, the dunes were made of untouched snow, as if we were on a true white-sand beach.
The Atlantic Ocean was a deep greenish blue. Its water was perfectly calm. To the north, we could see the tops of New York City’s tallest buildings rising above the curvature of the earth.
By now, my trusty footwear had failed me. Snow had melted through my shoes and socks. This by itself wouldn’t have been so bad, since hiking would typically generate enough heat to keep my feet warm. But the wind blew straight through the mesh walls of my shoes, making my toes painfully cold. They experienced waves of warmth, but I couldn’t tell if they were actually getting warmer or just getting numb.
We turned around and hiked back. At the car, I took off my socks and shoes and dried them out under the car’s heater. On the way home, we would stop at Hartshorne Woods Park for another hike. Would my feet feel better there?
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I always hike in trail runners, and usually just a pair of liner socks. However, if I am expecting all day cold rain, or hours of snow, I also carry a pair of waterproof Seal Skinz socks. Those have made all the difference between comfort and misery a few times.
I’ve never heard of Seal Skinz before. Thanks for the tip, Ralph. I think I would have been fine if my feet had at least stayed dry.