(MARI)TIME WARP! 1911: Sailing on Metedeconk River Delightful

SAILING ON METEDECONK RIVER DELIGHTFUL
The Brooklyn Citizen - Sept. 17th, 1911

Stream Emptying into Barnegat Bay Ideal for Canoeing.
PLACE FOR NATURE-LOVER

Gray Hummocks of Sand with Background of Cedars Silhouetted Against the Sunset Form Pictures to Delight an Artist

When the warm days dawn again and the cheerful chug-chug of the motor launch is heard or the gentle dip of the paddles, the writer's memory hies back to a hundred happy days spent on the tranquil bosom of a pretty little river of South Jersey, with a name of Indian origin, the Metedeconk, which empties into Barnegat Bay.

In its widest part it is a picturesque stream with pine-clothed shores, suitable for the launch and sailboat, and where, becoming smaller, it winds beneath the overhanging branches of queer old twisted trees and under rustic bridges. Near the highway leading from Lakewood to Point Pleasant it is idea for canoeing.

Along its banks the brilliant cardinal-flower gleams with intensity from its green setting, reflected in the ripple of the tide. It is said that the early French Canadians were particularly impressed with the beauty of this wild flower of the new world and sent specimens of it back to France. From its semblance to the gorgeously attired dignitaries of the Roman Church, its name is supposed to be derived.

The great blue lobelia, related to the cardinal flower, also enhances with its vivid coloring the grass marshes of the Metedeconk, lifting its tall spires of bright blue blossoms in the midst of the calamus and cat-tails.

Great flocks of blue jays inhabit the piney tracts on either side of the little river, filling the daytime with their harsh, unmusical clamor; yet one appreciates this as a sort of friendly sound in that quiet, lonesome wilderness where at evening is heard the melancholy voices of the various owls and the whippoorwill calls plaintively in the soft rays of the morn.

There is a pretty cover around the bend of the Metedeconk below a steep bank covered thickly over with the scrub oak and the pine where thousands of water lilies, gemming the surface of the streams in all directions, hold in their pink and white and golden cups all the fragrant essences of full-blown summer. A rowboat or canoe is here a requisite and a hand or two free to pluck from their oozy bed these lovely lilies. Perhaps there is needed, too, a deep love of the beautiful in nature to appreciate most fully the cool, crisp, odorous blossoms, trailing their long stems upward to the light from the dark, mysterious depths where the water snake and turtle make their home.

Gray hummocks of sand warmed by the first flush of sunrise, low-lying swamps with a background of ragged cedars, flecked with rose and azure, Tyrian purple, red or orange, as the varying flowers unfold, giant pine trees, in the tops of which are nests of hawks or osprey, silhouetted against the sunset or the moon. These are only a few of the pictures which the artist may obtain in those solitudes near the sea.

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