Dispatches from the Pine Barrens

Tales of South Jersey with Sam and Dave. It’s been a fair day; full of farmer’s markets, Dutch treats, and diners. We feasted on figs and Jersey Concord grapes, fresh pretzels knotted before our eyes, and we slavered over chocolate cake with peanut butter mousse and ganache. We ventured upon a deco Aztecan statue emerging from the piney forests, a tribute to Emilio Carranza, a pilot who crashed his plane on a goodwill mission from Mexico City to New York in the 1920s. He was considered the Lindbergh of Mexico. We scaled a fire look-out on the highest peak in Southern New Jersey, towering 209 feet above sea level, with the improbable name of Apple Pie Hill. Squinting through an August haze, we gazed upon the far east-west reaches of New Jersey to the seeming fata morganas of Philadelphia and Atlantic City. We waded into a cedar lake and watched a fish devour it’s diminutive counterpart. We played pirate with birds as shoulder adornments.

As the day could get no fuller, we suffered car troubles of a smoking nature. Here we sit, loitering in the parking lot of a closed gas station waiting for AAA. Dancing and singing and feeling like high schoolers with nothing better to do on a Saturday night. Saved by a tow truck…

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