Shell Pile: A Forgotten Fishing Village
Once a bustling oyster hub on the Maurice River in Cumberland County, Shell Pile got its name from towering heaps of oyster shells outside seafood packing sheds. In the 1930s, it was home to around 1,000 Black residents living in barracks on stilts over the salt marshes — a community described in a 1939 WPA guidebook as insular and wary of outsiders.
By 1955, the oyster industry was booming. But in 1957, a disease known as MSX wiped out 90% of local oysters and clams, decimating the region’s economy. Today, the Shell Pile area — including nearby Bivalve and Port Norris — contains only nine year-round homes.
Though a small oyster industry is returning (about 25 boats now work the bay), the landscape remains hauntingly still. We didn’t encounter a single resident during our visit.
The Legendary Shell Pile
As we explored, we discovered a massive mountain of white oyster shells—four stories tall, acres wide—just west of Shell Pile near Egg Island. A lone tractor driver worked the pile, surrounded by clouds of gulls. The smell of fish and rot lingered heavy in the air, even in winter. This was the legendary “shell pile” of New Jersey folklore—real and immense.
Eelgrass and Coffin Liners
In Port Norris, we passed the Miller Berry & Sons mattress company, whose slogan: “The last mattress you’ll ever sleep on.” The company makes coffin liners, and we realized the location made sense—eelgrass was once harvested nearby for its insect- and fire-resistant qualities. Once prized for mattresses, steamships, and even Model T upholstery, eelgrass declined after a 1929 blight but can still be found in the marshes today.
Bayside: NJ’s Caviar Capital
Further up the coast, we reached Bayside, formerly known as Caviar. In the early 1900s, the Delaware Bay was teeming with sturgeon, and Russian merchants sourced their roe here for export back to Russia. Overfishing, however, led to the species’ sharp decline, and the town’s name changed — but its history remains.
Sea Breeze: The End of the Road
Our final stop was Sea Breeze, arguably the most desolate spot in New Jersey. Located at the edge of the Delaware Bay, this weather-beaten village is a scattering of empty stilt houses and marshland. Access roads are flanked by muskrat crossings, and eerie mounds of reeds dot the marsh.
We passed a shipwrecked barge, dead horseshoe crabs, and an abandoned dog that seemed more guardian than pet. The beach was silent, the houses empty. It felt like time had stopped — or perhaps like time had been banished altogether.
Final Thoughts
Our journey through New Jersey’s lost waterfront communities was haunting, beautiful, and oddly mystical. Places like Shell Pile, Bayside, and Sea Breeze are fading from memory — but the ghosts of the oyster, caviar, and eelgrass eras still linger.
For anyone drawn to the strange and forgotten, these places remain defiantly off the beaten path — and they seem to prefer it that way.
