A worker repairs a dock in the Metedeconk River in Brick Township, Ocean County. The dock was a victim of the storm surge and heavy winds of superstorm Sandy. JEFF GRANIT staff In 65 years of business, no floodwaters had ever infiltrated Fishermen’s Supply Co., which sits off the Manasquan Inlet in Point Pleasant Beach — until superstorm Sandy raged through on Oct. 29. Even though owner Brian Stensland worked swiftly to renovate and reopen his doors, he cannot shake one question: What would happen if such a storm were to strike again?
Every day, humankind partakes in a dance with Mother Nature to determine the shape of New Jersey’s vulnerable shoreline. As government engineers modify beaches to protect waterfront communities against future damages, the untamed ocean and its many offshoots chip away at the coastline, threatening to infringe farther inland come the next major storm.
“The path that we’re moving down is repairing what was there before Sandy and making beaches better where they were not,” state Department of Environmental Protection (DEP) spokesman Lawrence Hajna said. “Basically, we’re bolstering our shorelines with these natural protections.”
Brian Stensland, owner of Fishermen’s Supply Co., Point Pleasant Beach, discusses Sandy’s impact on the store and commerce in the area. Right: Aerial pictures taken before and after the Oct. 29 superstorm reveal massive damage to the Seaside Heights pier and community. JEFF GRANIT staff Preventive steps include the establishment of berms and sand dunes to bear the most vicious impacts of the ocean’s waves, he said. Some beach towns have also begun to install geotubes — long, sausage-shaped bundles of fabric that are loaded with sand and laid down to reinforce dunes, Hajna said. Meanwhile, bulkheads built to stricter height and strength standards may fend off flooding along rivers and bays, he said.
PHOTO COURTESY OF UNITED STATES GEOLOGICAL SURVEY The investment appears to be worthwhile, said Jeffrey Gebert, the Army Corps of Engineers’ chief of coastal planning for the region. Coastal towns with engineered beaches fared better than unshielded communities during Sandy, he said.
Gebert pointed to Harvey Cedars, a borough on Long Beach Island that the Army Corps safeguarded before the superstorm.
“There were big damages to private and public infrastructure, meaning homes and roads, north and south of Harvey Cedars, but almost none in the town,” Gebert said. “Long Beach Island was exposed to a very severe test and the areas that were protected made out very well, and the areas that weren’t protected made out much worse.”
But, once the tides receded in Sandy’s wake, government officials did not discriminate between equipped and ill-prepared communities.
In the barrier island town of Mantoloking, Ocean County, the ocean rushed through a slew of homes, across Route 35 and into the bay. The breach, which became a symbol of Sandy’s wrath, required a quick response from the government, Gebert said.
“Our involvement there literally was to provide the Band-Aid to stop the bleeding — to get the sand in there to close the breach,” he said.
If state and federal leaders chose to allow the intrusion to remain, it could have festered like an untreated wound and expanded to create a new inlet, Gebert said. On the other hand, he noted, the water could have just as likely retreated back to the ocean.
Although it’s difficult to predict how breaches borne of storm surges will affect land inhabited by humans over the long term, officials don’t like to gamble with homes and businesses, Hajna said. That logic lays the ground for why officials strive to suppress gains made by Mother Nature in this delicate dance.
“Barrier islands are very dynamic places, and left alone, they would shift and spiral up and down the coast as the current takes them,” Hajna said. “But we put houses, pizza shops, surf shops and a variety of other stores on the islands, so that’s not an option.”
Stensland, whose family has owned Fishermen’s Supply Co. for three generations, knows firsthand the need to shelter the coastline for the sake of society. He cannot afford to walk away, he said, because his livelihood depends on income earned from tourist dollars.
To make the matter more complex, Stensland’s business collects money from commercial anglers, who in turn supply local restaurants with the catch of the day, which ends up on the dinner tables of hungry vacationers. It’s an intertwined web of commerce that demands a secure playing field.
“The Jersey Shore has always been a hardcore economy, and it needs to come back as soon as possible,” Stensland said. “But it needs to be done the right way, so that there’s not a massive crowd of people going, ‘What the hell is going on here? They said it’s fixed, but it’s not fixed.’”
New Jersey differs from most other states in that it dedicates $25 million per year to fuel a shore protection program in the fight for a stable coastline, Hajna said. That money helps municipalities meet their shares of the costs for federal projects and sparks joint efforts with the DEP.
While the Army Corps and other agencies offer a limited amount of capital to beach towns, their pockets go only as deep as Congress permits, Gebert said.
Despite the dedication to protect coastal areas, Gebert and Hajna both agreed that a guess as to whether man will ever outmaneuver the environment is just that — a guess.
“At some point, hundreds of years down the road, will we lose this battle? It’s hard to say,” Hajna said. “But, for the time being, we’re working to keep the Jersey Shore vibrant and the valuable asset that it is.”