The trail from the small parking lot winds beneath a canopy of gnarled cedar and oak before opening onto a shoreline that feels untouched by the casino glitter of Atlantic City, ninety minutes north. Sand the color of wet cardboard stretches in both directions, littered with driftwood sculptured by storms and the occasional horseshoe crab shell bleached white by summer sun. The surf here rolls in with a steady, unhurried rhythm—this is where the Delaware Bay's protected waters begin to yield to open ocean.
“This is the only clothing-optional beach on the entire New Jersey coastline, tucked inside a globally significant raptor migration corridor.”
Boardwalk stretching toward the sea
Naturists have claimed the beach's northern half since the 1970s, and you'll find them reading paperbacks in low-slung chairs or wading into September water without a second thought. The southern portion, part of the Cape May Migratory Bird Refuge, draws a different congregation: binocular-toting watchers who arrive in autumn when sharp-shinned hawks and merlins funnel down the peninsula by the thousands.
There are no lifeguards, no snack bars, no umbrella rentals. You carry in what you need and pack out what you brought. The beach closes at dusk, enforced by a locked gate, so time your visit to catch the late-afternoon light slanting through the dune grass, turning ordinary sand into ribbons of copper and rose.