⛺ We’re happy campers | Outdoorsy Newsletter

Fall is so close, we can almost feel it. But before the leaves change colors, we’re making the most of what remains of summer by going camping. Jason Nark has us covered with five beloved spots in Pennsylvania. Where else should we pitch a tent? Want to share your camping experience? Write me an email here.

Afterwards, we’re headed to New Jersey to see how tons of oyster shells get recycled to restore vital habitats for oyster growth.

⛅ Your weekend weather outlook: There’s a chance of rain today and Saturday, but Sunday should be comfortably sunny for outdoor adventures.

— Paola Pérez (outdoorsy@inquirer.com)

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I can smell the roasted hot dogs and s’mores now.

Going camping is something of a rite of passage. Whether you’re looking for a deep wilderness adventure or a hotel-like resort, we can help you find a cozy corner of nature to kick back and enjoy a quintessential outdoorsy experience.

To help you deal with the dread of picking one campground out from hundreds of options, Jason writes about his favorite places, starting with Ricketts Glen State Park:

⛺ Something for everyone: Fish on the lake or grab an ice cream on the beach; rent a cabin, or set up your tent or RV by the water

🌊 Gorgeous views: It’s home to one of the most scenic trails in the state, boasting 21 waterfalls among pines, hemlocks, and oaks

📍 Location: Benton, Pa. (2½-hour drive from Philadelphia)

Get more details on the 5 places you should camp before summer runs out.

🎤 Now we’re passing the microphone to Jason Nark. You’ll always find his work here.

Into buckets they go, night after night, the Cape May Salts, the Blue Points, and the Wellfleets — thousands of oysters shucked, slurped, and hauled out to the trash cans behind Dock’s Oyster House.

Before 2020, the Atlantic City seafood institution simply tossed oyster shells in the garbage along with the napkins, cocktail straws, and shrimp tails, then off to the dump it all went.

On a recent summer afternoon at the 127-year-old restaurant, executive chef Stephan Johnson hauled a five-gallon bucket of oyster shells out back and dumped them into a bright green recycling can bearing the New Jersey Department of Environmental Protection logo. The leftover oyster shells weren’t going to be buried in a landfill or turned into concrete but sent back to the waterways, where they will help future generations of oysters thrive.

Oysters take two to three years to reach maturity, but spend their first two weeks as free-swimming, unprotected larvae, looking for old shells to attach themselves to and eventually build into reefs. Taking oysters out of the water without replacing the shells depletes waterways of their habitats, and can negatively affect the health of an oyster population.

“I like to say that the oysters have been good to us,” Johnson said, “so we’re good to the oyster.” — Jason Nark

Keep reading to learn how this recycling program might help the next generation of oysters.

🎤 Jason says: This was taken at the Shofuso Japanese Cultural Center.

Splendid. You can watch and listen to this serene scene here.

After Jason Nark introduced us to the grueling hike known as the “1,000 Steps” trail, I asked you to tell me about the hardest hike you’ve tried or completed.

Outdoorsy reader Ken Alan, 60, shared an excursion that he said tops his list of micro-adventures thus far. Here’s an excerpt from his story:

Although I have several long section hikes of the Appalachian Trail and most of the Horseshoe Trail under my belt, through various times in my life, no trek for me has been so meaningful (yet so challenging) as the one I undertook in early-June of this year, when on a whim, I decided to walk from the center of Millville (NJ) to my house at the south end of Ocean City - 27 miles of busy highway hiking from start to finish.

My rationale for undertaking such a strange City-to-Beach journey seemed to have a George Mallory-on-Everest “because it’s there” mentality to it, meaning, through hundreds of road trips I’ve driven down the Shore, taking isolated, Pine Barren-encased Route 47 - never have I seen another soul traversing that desolate stretch on foot before - and for good reason.

Other than one lonely gas station about ten miles in, Route 47 is almost completely devoid of services, including cell service. And the nonstop, noisy traffic: Yikes!

With sturdy boots and day pack on, I Uber’d to my starting point, setting off from Millville at the crack of dawn, slowly and oh-so-carefully making my way along the far edge of the grassy right-of-way, passing mile marker after mile marker. And you’d better believe my Uber driver was beyond stunned after dropping me off at a Wawa, when I simply got out of his car, and said “Thanks. I think I’ll walk home now.”

By 9:00 p.m. that night (after a quick beer stop along the way at Yesterday’s restaurant and tavern in Marmora) I was safely home.

Talk about taking the long way home! Alan also noted he contacted state police to make sure he was allowed to walk along that stretch of road, and made them aware he was the “lone, strange, sun hat-wearing dude tromping giddily through the middle of nowhere.” Haha. Great safety tip.

📮 Give me a review of your outdoorsy experience by emailing me back for a chance to be featured in this newsletter.

Let’s do this again next week. Take care.

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