So we took a six-block detour to the nearest public access point, doubling back in the wet sand. Except that, too, was off-limits. Atlantis claimed control of swimmable sea out 1,000 feet - which burned Bucks County's Bob Olszewski:
"Whoever heard of anyone owning the ocean?"
The beach blanket imbroglio soon drew police, lawyers, the Attorney General's Office, the Department of Environmental Protection, and even the state Supreme Court.
Three years later, the sunlovers scored a landmark victory when the state's highest court declared sacred the public's right to enjoy both sand and surf. As such, even private owners must provide access to the entire beach. They may charge reasonable fees to cover costs, but they cannot gouge.
Sunburns and red tape
After the Raleigh Avenue decision, the DEP sent a message to dozens of towns along the 127-mile coast: no access, bathrooms or parking, no state aid.
But then a lower court, in a case involving Avalon, claimed the state had overreached. All this talk of being reasonable about beach access was, apparently, unreasonable.
Now, we're back to debating if, when and where - not to mention how - a fisherman or family can have fun in the sun.
The pendulum has swung so wildly that the DEP now intends to let 267 beach and tidal municipalities - including those known for trying to ban the riffraff - call the shots by drafting their own public access plans.
DEP explains its reasoning at www.state.nj.us/dep/cmp/access/. Adds spokesman Larry Ragonese, "We want to make it easier for people to understand where they can go to the beach."
But Ralph Coscia, from the group Citizens' Right to Access Beaches (CRAB), laments the shift from a DEP that "sought to close loopholes impeding public access" to one that erroneously believes that access already is "wonderful and magnificent, with just a few problem areas."
Throwing sand
