Early Risers Catch Beach Town's Downtime

As Day Is Dawning, Quiet Pursuits Transform the Vibe in Ocean City

OCEAN CITY -- It's dawn at the beach, and the rising sun paints the sky in broad strokes of pink and purple. A few late-night partiers slumber on the sand, but most vacationers savor the simple luxury of not setting an alarm in their hotels, rentals and summer homes.

The boardwalk is empty. The beach is quiet. Police finish up paperwork in their cruisers as garbage trucks make the rounds. Streetlights are still on, and drivers seem unsure about the need for headlights.

Then slowly but suddenly they appear: early-morning people.

Forget that it's Memorial Day weekend and that they are on vacation. Never mind that the point of traveling to the beach is to escape the regular routine. There is no leisurely sleeping in for the creatures who say they simply enjoy waking before their spouses, friends or children and venturing out into the morning. They jog, check the BlackBerry, read the paper, sip coffee, race their dogs along the shore or watch daybreak.

"It's so quiet," marveled Lydia Hollander of Fort Lauderdale, Fla., from the balcony of her oceanfront room, where she planned to do yoga stretches. "No one bothers you at this hour."

Some wake according to schedule. "It's a military thing," explained Alan Adam, 50, of Reading, Pa., who works at a power plant and rises at 5 a.m. every day. "I'm not sleeping in, but everyone else is."

Others are beckoned from slumber by natural forces. "The seagulls woke me up," said Richard Hartle, 60, an electrician from Hagerstown, as he walked along the boardwalk before 6 a.m. "The beach, the air, the sun coming up -- just the things you come to the beach for."

And a few have completely random reasons for being up and about: "We're hunting for a fugitive," said James Wagner, 45, who flashed a badge from his back pocket. "Morning is a good time to catch fugitives. You never know where you might find them."

In that first hour or so of daylight, there is an odd overlap of night and day. Cashiers at 24-hour convenience stores and fast-food joints sell junk food to bleary-eyed partygoers and coffee to bright-eyed early birds. The first wave of customers at early-morning breakfast stops, such as Layton's Restaurant on 16th Street, usually contains an equal number of those who have yet to sleep and those who just awoke, waitress Katie Bohn said.

"You have the old men who meet up here every day and tip well and the young kids who leave you 13 cents," said Bohn, 20, who has worked at Layton's for several years and has to rise at 4:15 every morning so she can help open the restaurant at 6 a.m.

Early risers often venture out to avoid the wrath of sleepers who do not want to be disturbed. That's why Dewey Gills, his brother Bruce Gills and brother-in-law Martin Bauman took a leisurely bike ride along the boardwalk Saturday. Dressed in shorts and polo shirts and sipping coffee, the three discussed plans for the day and retold stories from beach trips of years past.

"There's no way to not wake up. It takes a couple of weeks to get in the habit of waking up later, but by the time you've done that, vacation is over," said Dewey Gills, 54, of Richmond, who is amazed by his college-age son's ability to silence his internal alarm clock. "But we get out of the house so we don't wake everybody. We know better."