A visit to one of the largest and most beautiful cathedrals in the world, nestled in one of the most lawless and crime-ridden cities in America?  Just another day in New Jersey.

Completed over 50+ controversy-ridden years with a final dedication in 1954, the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart is the fifth largest cathedral in North America. Seat of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Newark, it was designated a National Historic Site in 1976. The church remained a “lowly” cathedral until Pope John Paul II visited in 1995, at which time it was elevated to basilica status. The long history of bishops, archbishops, construction hiccups, design adjustments and historic happenings is too long to recount here, so best just to visit the Sacred Heart website for that.

As for our experience there, well, it was just breathtaking.  Some winding through the urban decay of Newark’s North Ward led us around a corner of Ridge Street, where the massive structure rises majestically above the row homes and bodegas. The exterior and interior architecture is magnificent and imposing, with unbelievably ornate, intricate details. Absolutely awe-inspiring, as any cathedral should be.

The basilica has a huge pipe organ and incredible stained glass windows. It hosts a robust schedule of musical events every year, including an annual Christmas Carol Sing that must be truly something to see and hear (we’ve noted this on our calendars…).  Overall, just, WOW.  Go see it for yourself!

Every single day, the Passaic River sends two million gallons of water over the 77-foot summit of the Great Falls in Paterson. It is a sight to behold–the power of rushing water, the rising of rainbowed mists, the swirling and eddying of pools and flows–in the very heart of a town most associated with…the Industrial Revolution.  Who says New Jersey doesn’t know how to mix it up?

The falls were carved out of the 200-million year old basalt by some antsy glaciers about 13,000 years ago.  The Lenape Native Americans hung around for awhile, and then in 1792 the city was established when William Paterson (NJ Governor and signer of the Constitution) put his John Hancock (hehe) on the town charter.

Alexander Hamilton, while serving as Secretary of the Treasury under our fave prez George Washington, founded a group called the The Society for the Establishment of Useful Manufacturers (SUM).  Despite its sound, SUM was neither from a Monty Python skit nor from a low-budget espionage film.  It was, in fact, an organization to shape how to best harness the energy of Great Falls and in doing so facilitate greater economic independence from Britain. One of its chief members was the guy who designed basically the entire city of Washington DC, Peter Charles L’Enfant.

Through the construction of complex systems of water raceways and reservoirs, the waterfall’s power was used to fuel manufacturing mills for textiles (silk chief among them), firearms and locomotives. Paterson began to decline around the end of World War II, and though it is New Jersey’s third largest city (who would have guessed?), remains economically depressed. The Great Falls, declared a National Park in 2011, are one hope for revitalization of the area.

We visited on a freezing cold winter weekend, knowing little about the site except that it was once featured in a certain tv show that shall not be named. The park seems almost unreal.  You drive through the center of Paterson and at an otherwise unremarkable intersection there is a sign for the park, and almost immediately thereafter the spectacular falls come into view. Perhaps the cold kept people away that day, for the small parking lot was almost empty and the number of visitors walking around, photographing and gawking was countable on one hand.  In a word: perfect.

The falls are awesome (east of the Mississippi River, they are second only to Niagara Falls in water volume) and the footpaths and bridges allow you to get very close to the falls from various vantage points. The site is completely unexpected and unique, as only New Jersey could muster. Truly a must-see.

After an extended visit at Great Falls, we drove a short distance down the highway to another Paterson-area landmark: Lambert Castle. Englishman Catholina Lambert came to the US at age 17. Within a decade, he’d become successful in the silk manufacturing industry and married into a well-heeled American family. Like any good business baron, he had multiple residences in New York City, but eventually was compelled to commission the building of an estate near the mills he controlled in Paterson. His life was full of tragedy, including mysterious deaths, natural disasters and ruinous bankruptcies–you can read the full story here.

The castle is yet another incongruity in the Paterson landscape, which only adds to its colorful character. The rounded turrets, the battlements, the arched doorways and wrought iron gates (if not the police K9 training unit next door) all harken back to Lambert’s origins in Yorkshire. We were low on cash that day, so didn’t take the $10 tour, but from what we saw when warming ourselves in the entryway, the interior and art collection appeared to warrant a future visit with the necessary funding.

The grounds surrounding Lambert Castle, known as the Garrett Mountain Reserve and Rifle Camp Park, are home to jogging trails, picnic areas, an astronomical observatory, and panoramic views of the Manhattan skyline. Perhaps it was the cold weather, but we encountered very few people at this site as well, which was…just as well.  The observatory was not open, so we walked around the grounds and took in the vista of NYC.  Then, as per usual, it was off to find food…

Harbor seals can be elusive critters.  We know this because despite recent confirmed sightings we could not find any during our visit to Sandy Hook.  Shy pinnipeds notwithstanding, the historic 7-mile beach park with a view of New York City had plenty to offer.

Technically known as a barrier peninsula, Sandy Hook extends along the Atlantic into New York Bay.  At its tip is Fort Hancock, a military base active from 1899 to 1974.  The fort contains many abandoned, and sadly crumbling, military houses, former mortar batteries and Nike missile sites, and other buildings currently in use by the National Park Service, oceanic studies organizations and schools.  The views are beautiful from almost every vantage point, but nowhere more so than from Sandy Hook Lighthouse.

The beacon was built by NYC stonemason Isaac Conro in 1764 with funds raised from two public lotteries; it is the oldest working lighthouse in the United States.  Standing at 103 feet high, it contains a spiral staircase of 95 steps that lead to the top.  We visited the combination office and shop next door to sign up for the free guided tour and stock up on tourist maps.  The shop was tiny, but still had some cute items–cross stitch kits, plush horseshoe crabs, relevant books and so on.  We curbed our spending and wrote our names on the register for the next climb.

Since it was a beautiful day and we had 30 minutes to kill, we sauntered around the grounds for a bit, checking out the one of the mortar battery areas, viewing the military barracks and Officer’s Row, and taking a moment to appreciate some of the pretty trees on the grounds.

Back at the lighthouse, we began our ascent (guide name later escaped us), taking up the rear in a group of about 10. With a red brick interior and what looked like windowed sleeping nooks, the lighthouse could double as a tony loft living space. And in fact it was (ok, maybe not so tony), for its keepers over the years, who had to fuel its lamp with whale oil and kerosene before it was automated to electricity in 1965.

The climb isn’t so bad, with reasonably wide steps, well placed rails and handles, and two brief cardio recovery stops. Once near the top, visitors must navigate up a 10-rung ladder that posed a bit more challenge for some of our cohorts:  an older and very out of shape woman took it slow, but made it; a twenty-something Asian woman was unwittingly kicked in the face by her mother.  Both survived to see the summit.

Awaiting at the top are a bunch of gargoyles, a massive Fresnel lens that allows the always-on light to be seen 19 miles away, and a spectacular view that includes the coastline, the Verazzano Bridge, Jersey City, Long Island, Manhattan and even one of the rides at Coney Island. Interesting factoid–the lighthouse was originally built about 500 feet from the water, but since that time nature had deposited so much sediment on Sandy Hook that the lighthouse is now almost 1.5 miles inland.

The 30-minute tour concluded without further ado. We drove out of the fort area, passing a huge old gunnery installment and making a pit-stop at a scenic observation deck (not as impressive as the lighthouse view). Back in the park proper we drove past Gunnison Beach (one of the only nude beaches on the East Coast) and to Parking Area E, which is adjacent to a forest of holly trees, some 150 years old.  It was a magical walk.

We barely touched the trails, but frankly were getting hungry and couldn’t go much further without sustenance.  One more stop before chow:  Skeleton Hill Island in search of seals. We parked in area C and then walked to the bay/inlet side of the peninsula, in the shadows of the houses of Atlantic Highlands. Not a seal in sight, but we did take a short walk during which time we were squirted by an embedded mollusk and had some adventures with razor clams.

Our stomachs then got the best of us, so we departed this wildlife and nature wonderland, past the Twin Lights of Navesink and onward to our lunch destination in Long Branch.

Bruce Springsteen.  There, we’ve said it, and shall endeavor not to utter his name again, even though we’re now going to talk about a town inextricably associated with His Bossness.

If you’ve ever wondered what it would be like to visit a post-apocalyptic beach resort, head either to Coney Island, or to the little stretch of the New Jersey coast called Asbury Park—but hurry because things are changing fast.  Asbury Park was once a thriving destination, with glittering casinos, fancy bath houses, multi-star restaurants, big name entertainment and pretty much anything else you can imagine.  During the 1960s and 1970s, it entered a period of gradual decline, with residents moving to outlying suburbs, Great Adventure stealing away tourists and the Garden State Parkway providing a direct drive to “shore points” further south. For about 30 years the town languished in poverty and desolation, but circa 2002 signs of life began to spring up everywhere.

Today it’s still a mix, but heading in the right direction.  Several waterfront cool-cat lounges have opened, Convention Hall attracts top name acts and an artsy (gentrified thanks to the presence of the gay community) downtown of restaurants, shops and the unique Paranormal Museum is thriving.  The boardwalk itself is experiencing a return to vibrancy—the casino walkway has reopened, snack bars are hopping and the beach is dotted with kite-flyers and exercisers (we visited in the dead of winter, so no sunbathers).  And of course, the Wonderbar (they hold dog-friendly “yappy hours” so are ok in our book!) keeps serving and the Stone Pony gallops on.

Some unsightly high rise condos, a hypodermic needle in the grass around the inlet, discarded pork bones on the streets (that nearly choked Ben to death), and depressed-looking outlying areas admittedly detracted from the charm. But we’re thinking positive. With some additional investment of capital, Asbury Park could easily return to its former glory, and then some.

The casino was closed for many years.  It showed signs of renovation, but we’re not quite sure of its intended use or timeframe.  In the meantime, the boardwalk path through it has been reopened and temporarily decorated by local artists, leading to the neighboring town-that-time-forgot of Ocean Grove.

At the other end of the wooden pathway is Convention Hall, which in contrast was busy with musicians, artists and visitors.  During our visit, a boisterous group of polar bear swimmers were celebrating, post-dunk, in the pavilion with music and food. We didn’t pay the admission, and instead explored the curiosities of the boardwalk–and there are a few.

A statue of the Greek Orthodox “Man of Love” is the first thing we noticed.  Haven’t been able to find a whole lot of background on that one…  Just behind him we took a look at the black granite monument commemorating the SS Morro Castle disaster.  Some background: On September 8, 1934, as the ship was making its way from Havana to New York, an odd and tragic series of events were put in motion.  First, the boat’s captain, Robert Willmott, died of a heart attack right on the bridge. Six hours later, the ship burst into flames at sea off the coast of Long Beach Island, killing 130+ passengers and crew before beaching its smoldering innards on the sands of Asbury Park.

Chaos reigned during the disaster–disorganization, poor training, thick smoke and a storm with gale force winds exacerbated the emergency. Life boats with a combined capacity of 350 passengers were deployed, but they evacuated only 85 people.  Many of the ship’s passengers perished jumping overboard, either due to the tempestuous ocean waves or from improper use of life preservers; bodies washed up from Point Pleasant to Spring Lake. Still, rescue operations (including a plane piloted by the Harry Moore, Governor of New Jersey at the time) saved hundreds, and some even swam to shore unaided. Eventually the smoke cleared and a year or so later the wreckage was towed away and scrapped. RIP to the unfortunate souls lost on the Morro Castle.

Onward to less depressing sights:

Then we went downtown.  The revitalized area had some nice shops and restaurants that we ran out of time to sample.  One store had many kischy treasures, including Two Guys t-shirts (for those who are old enough to remember) and these incredible cereal-themed clocks:

We’d heard of a fantastically bad statue of The Rock Star Who Shall Remain Nameless that had been put up in Kennedy Park and investigated toward the end of our trip.  We found the park, but the BS bust was a bust. Instead, the only statue we could locate was this bizarre, scaly and eyeless head of John F. Kennedy.

Just around the corner is yet another strange site: a telephone pole graveyard (or forest, depending on how optimistic you are).  We had read about the Great Telephone Pole Farm of Chester (a future road trip, no doubt), but never heard even a murmur about this humble triangle of former trees. They are a little shorter than Chester’s collection, but no less odd.  Look for them on Cookman Avenue at Kingsley Street.

Solidifying our impression of Asbury Park as a truly eclectic place, our last stop was at the Fourth Avenue home of Stephen Crane, author of the Civil War classic, The Red Badge of Courage.  Crane was a New Jerseyan through and through.  He was born in Newark in 1871, and moved to Asbury Park at the age of twelve. Though he began writing while in AP, he didn’t pen his most famous novel until he got to New York City. Doesn’t it always seem to happen that way?  Poor Stephen wasn’t long for this world:  he succumbed to tuberculosis at 28 years old while living in England. The house changed hands a few times after 1899, and was turned into a museum in 1995.  It wasn’t open when we visited, so we just took a photo of the exterior.