Father-daughter duo takes on Old Barney

When my dad and I drove into Barnegat Light on Friday evening, June 29, we were shocked to find the streets practically empty. Only a few cars, bike riders and pedestrians could be seen navigating the roads. But when we turned into the entrance of Barnegat Lighthouse State Park, we realized everyone seemed to be gearing up for the beach campfire and evening lighthouse climb, sponsored by the Ocean County Department of Parks and Recreation and Friends of Barnegat Lighthouse State Park. 

School children with their friends and families with young children were crawling all over the place, toting lawn chairs, blankets and bags of marshmallows, graham crackers and chocolate bars for s’mores to make at the campfire. While everyone seemed to be in good spirits, we knew there had to be some party poopers lurking about.

Photo by Ryan Morrill
The crowd waits for the bonfire to open up
near the Barnegat Lighthouse.

Heading toward the Visitor’s Center, we passed an older woman frowning and complaining about the nasty flies that were biting her “to death.” Looking at each other with silly grins after overhearing this woman’s conversation, my dad and I agreed that we had “a crankpot” in our midst. We burst into a fit of giggles before making our way into the center, where we introduced ourselves to the Friends of Barnegat Lighthouse State Park staff.

“It’s going to be a perfect night!” exclaimed FBLSP vice president Charlotte Bank. “We have marshmallows, a bonfire and music. And the moon is on its way!” she added, also referencing the organization’s July 3 “Lighthouse Full Moon Night Climb” – the first of four scheduled this season.

After browsing the Interpretive Center’s “Story of Barnegat Lighthouse” – a photo and text depiction of the history of the lighthouse “from shipwreck to first class seacoast light” – we decided to seek out the music we could hear playing in the distance.

Making our way toward the dunes, my dad, Steve Essinger, who runs Essinger and Sons Landscaping in Barnegat, kept calling out the different types of plants we passed on the walkway.

“The trumpet vine is in bloom … look at all that beach plum … poison ivy, that will set you up for a good itch!” he exclaimed.

Winding past kids throwing a football, then zigzagging through families that set up camp near the campfire (vigorously burning and not yet opened to the public for roasting marshmallows), we found the Basement Musicians’ Guild, a three-piece cover band featuring Joe Stamboni, Tony Pileggi and Rick Hohowski. The band is best known for playing some of history’s best country, folk and classic rock at the Albert Music Hall, across the bay in Waretown. At that moment, they were playing one of my favorite songs: “For What It’s Worth,” by Buffalo Springfield.

Standing in the sand for just a few minutes, we understood why the woman we passed on our way into the park was so upset about the flies. We were being attacked by what appeared to be black flies, known for their fierce bites.

We quickly returned to the Visitor’s Center, where we hoped we could find bug spray. No such luck.

“People keep coming in to see if they can buy bug spray,” said Gerry Perko, FBLSP corresponding secretary. “My husband is carrying a flyswatter around at the lighthouse, and he said he could probably sell it for $25!” she added with a laugh.

Braving the black flies, my dad and I approached the lighthouse where we gazed in awe at the stature of the tower and all its glory, standing erect on the south side of Barnegat Inlet. In the 17th century, Dutch explorers named the inlet Barendegat – “Breaker’s Inlet” – because of the large, cresting waves that made navigation challenging. Sailors have used the site since the late 1800s as a navigational tool, assisting them in reaching the harbor and avoiding the treacherous rocks and sandbars that encompass the shore.

“The lighthouse is in beautiful condition. Even the supports that hold the walking tower are in beautiful shape,” my dad stated with near disbelief.

It had been close to two years since either of us had seen the lighthouse in person, and my dad was clearly blown away by its stunning beauty.

“Man, that thing is tall. It’s 165 feet above sea level!” he exclaimed, after reading some of the educational plaques located near the base of the lighthouse.

I nodded in agreement, also awed by the astounding structure.

We decided we needed a picture together, standing next to the statue of Lieutenant George G. Meade of the U.S. Army Bureau of Topographical Engineers, who was appointed by Congress to draw up the plans for the new Barnegat Lighthouse, which was supervised by Lieutenant W.S. Reynolds in 1856.

Dana Miller, a friendly woman from Bedminster, N.J. who was staying in Barnegat Light with her sisters and children, was chosen as our photographer. Luckily, she was happy to do it.

I asked her if she was going to climb the lighthouse, but she informed me that she had broken her foot and had just recently gotten her cast off.

“But my kids have gone up and down the lighthouse twice already. We came here yesterday, too. They’re very gung-ho about it. We all love it,” she said with enthusiasm.

Miller went on to tell me that she and her sisters have been coming to Long Beach Island for the past “50 odd years.” They rented with their parents as children during the summertime, and years later kept the tradition alive by doing the same thing with their children.

Photo by Dana Miller
My dad and I pose for a picture with
the monument of Lt. George G. Meade.

After my dad and I agreed we couldn’t imagine life without the Island, he announced that he couldn’t see the light at the top of the lighthouse. So we decided we better go find it.

FBLSP president Serena White greeted us at the entrance with a happy smile. When my dad jokingly asked her if the lighthouse was air conditioned, she excitedly guided us to some air holes located inside at the base of the lighthouse, where they were blowing out cool air. We all stood there trying to figure out exactly how the air holes worked, but none of us were experts in this theory, so we decided we would just enjoy their presence.

“It’s natural air conditioning. That’s probably where the keeper used to take his naps,” White said with a jovial laugh.

Kids ran past us, zooming up the narrow spiral staircase that leads to the tippy top.

“Go faster, don’t fall!” they shouted.

My dad and I looked at each other and decided it was time to climb. We couldn’t remember how many steps there were, so we decided to count as we went – silently, of course.

Arriving at the first balcony and window, we both declared 16 steps. After agreeing on the same number of steps, we browsed the plaques on the walls and peered out the window, where we could see people gathering near the now-subdued campfire to finally roast marshmallows over the glowing coals. Resuming our climb, we reminded each other to start with step 17.

We continued this way until we were one number off. Neither of us knew who was right, but at the finish we decided 217 sounded like a more familiar number than 216.

After we found the light on and spinning, we ducked out onto the observation deck, where a cool breeze was steadily blowing. With so many people standing up there, it was difficult to travel around and get the panoramic view, so we decided to climb back down and take a walk on the 1,033-foot concrete walkway on top of the South Jetty. I was bent on counting the stairs the whole way down, but I miscounted on the first flight and decided it wasn’t worth it.

“When you get to the bottom, just say 217!” my dad announced.

I liked his thinking. So that’s exactly what we did.

Twilight was setting in when we started on the pier, but the flies were still biting and the air was still humid. I spotted a couple of fishermen on the jetty and asked if they had caught anything.

Paul Mari from Cherry Hill had just caught a bluefish, which he said he was giving to his pal, Josh Gutierrez, who had traveled down from Camden to fish with him.

“We come down here about three or four times a week. I took a sick day from work today,” he said, chuckling.

I was content chatting with the men about their night’s catch and even taking a peek at the bluefish. Then a black fly bit me on the face. So I quickly said goodbye and told my dad, who was gabbing on the phone with my brother, that it was time to go.

“We’re high-tailing it out of here, Steve!” he shouted into the phone.

We made it to the parking lot without any more bites, but others weren’t so lucky.

“I’ve been coming to this event for years, and I’ve never seen the bugs this bad,” said a woman passing by. “I wanted to leave after 10 minutes. I can’t stand bugs or humidity.”

I nodded in agreement.

For those who prefer cooler weather and fewer flies, an autumn campfire and lighthouse climb takes place Saturday, Oct. 27 from 7 to 9:30 p.m. The night will feature storytelling by Robin Moore.

Friends of Barnegat Lighthouse State Park host their “Lighthouse Full Moon Night Climb” from 7 to 9:30 p.m. on Aug. 1, Aug. 31 and Sept. 29. See friendsofbarnegatlighthouse.org and oceancountyparks.org.

This article was published in The Beachcomber.