“It smelled like salt, sunscreen, and a little bit of history.” That was my first impression of Cape May, New Jersey, as I stepped onto the beach with gulls overhead and the sound of waves folding into themselves. I had come for a bit of everything—Victorian homes, shore breezes, good food, maybe a museum or two—and Cape May delivered all of that, wrapped in peeling paint and sea glass charm. There’s something about this town that feels like a well-written letter: thoughtful, a little faded, and still full of surprises.
Best Things to Do in Cape May, NJ
Cape May Beaches
I started, as one does, with the beach. The sand along Cape May’s shoreline was soft and hot underfoot, dotted with umbrellas and speckled with tiny shells. I walked the edge of the water for nearly an hour, letting the tide lace around my ankles. Kids squealed in the surf, and the air smelled clean—briny, but not sharp. “This is what a vacation is supposed to sound like,” I thought, watching someone read a paperback that was falling apart at the spine. I didn’t swim, but I let the ocean do its thing: reset, renew, repeat.
Cape May Lighthouse
The Cape May Lighthouse stands tall like it’s watching over more than just ships. I climbed the 199 steps (slowly—there’s no prize for speed) and reached the top with a wind strong enough to tug at your thoughts. The view stretched from sand to skyline, gulls looping through it like punctuation marks. I stayed up there longer than I meant to, hands on the railing, just watching the ocean rearrange itself.
Naval Air Station Wildwood (NASW) Aviation Museum
At the Naval Air Station Wildwood Aviation Museum, I walked into the hangar and was hit by the smell of metal, oil, and history. Planes lined the space in proud formation—massive, gleaming, almost too big for indoors. I stood under a World War II dive bomber and tried to imagine the noise it once made. One exhibit let you climb into a cockpit. I did, and immediately wondered how anyone ever had the nerve to fly one of these. “Everything here feels heavy, but important,” I wrote in my notes. And it did.
Emlen Physick Estate
The Emlen Physick Estate was like stepping into a Victorian novel—one with good lighting and ghost stories just under the surface. The house is beautifully preserved, all patterned wallpaper and careful furniture, with a front porch that makes you want to sit and invent a scandal. The tour was full of those small, human details I love—what they ate, how they bathed, who visited, who didn’t. I left thinking the past is closer than it looks in the mirror.
Washington Street Mall
Washington Street Mall was buzzing with families, couples, and seagulls eyeing French fries from above. It’s not a mall in the modern sense—more of a promenade where shops spill out with beach towels, fudge samples, sunhats, and soap shaped like mermaids. I strolled slowly, stopping to watch a street musician play violin under an awning as a light mist began to fall. Then I followed my nose to dinner.
Louisa’s Restaurant & Chocolate Bar
I ate at Louisa’s, a cozy little spot with a handwritten menu and the kind of quiet confidence that says, “We don’t do reservations—we just do it right.” I ordered the seared mahi-mahi with summer squash and herb rice. The fish was tender, almost sweet, with crispy edges that tasted like the sea had a secret. Everything smelled bright—lemon, thyme, a hint of butter—and I ate slowly, trying not to finish too soon. For dessert, I walked next door to the Chocolate Bar and picked out a dark chocolate–sea salt truffle that melted like velvet. I stood outside to eat it. It felt like the right kind of luxury.
Fire Control Tower No. 23
Fire Control Tower No. 23 was quiet when I arrived—just wind and dune grass. This WWII observation post still watches the shoreline with its narrow slits and concrete gravity. I climbed its tight spiral staircase and stood at the top alone, reading the plaques, imagining soldiers peering through scopes, waiting for something that, thankfully, never came. It felt respectful, solid, important. A place where the air remembers.
The Historic Cold Spring Village
At Historic Cold Spring Village, time bent a little. Actors in linen and suspenders explained butter churning and blacksmithing with the easy rhythm of people who know their craft. I lingered near the print shop, fascinated by a press that still worked. The buildings smelled of wood, beeswax, and damp stone. A group of kids played with old-fashioned hoops nearby. The past felt less like a museum and more like an alternate version of now—just quieter, slower, and with better handwriting.
Nature Center of Cape May
Last came the Nature Center of Cape May, perched near the harbor with binoculars ready and osprey in view. I walked the boardwalk trail out back and paused to watch a heron stalk through the reeds. Inside, the center had touch tanks and tide charts, volunteer guides happy to explain which birds were migrating through that week. It was calm in the best way—like the marsh didn’t mind being looked at.
Cape May At a Glance
- Drive Time from Philadelphia: ~1 hour 40 minutes south
- Vibe: Historic, windswept, quietly grand
- Highlights: Beaches, lighthouses, aviation history, seafood, chocolate, birdwatching
- Best Time to Visit: May–September for full bloom, warm weather, and open attractions
- Cost: Moderate; many museums have small admission fees, but beaches and parks vary
- Hours: Museums and restaurants seasonal; lighthouse and ferry hours posted online
- Address Base: Start at Washington Street Mall and let your feet guide you
Final Thoughts
Cape May isn’t loud about what it offers—it just gives you the space to notice it. A bit of wind in your hair, a view from a tower, the perfect piece of fish, a heron lifting into the sky. I left with sand still clinging to my sandals and chocolate under my fingernails. I also left knowing that there are places where time folds more gently. Cape May is one of them.
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