Cryptome eyeballs the nuclear power plant yours truly grew up within a mere two miles of. I like to think of it as "my nuclear power plant". Over the years, I've truly enjoyed following its various accidents and dribbling safety record. My childhood is dotted by its infrequent drills and more frequent fish-kills. I revel in every dead link to its emergency plans as if they were the failed papers of my children hanging on the kitchen refrigerator.

Noted for being the first commercial nuclear power plant in the United States, it has claimed a number of firsts over its lifetime. I believe it even held first place on Greenpeace's "accidents waiting to happen" list, bumped only because its actually had accidents happen. While no radiation leak has ever (publicly) occurred which has extended beyond the site's inner boundary, local residents keep our iodine tables handy and in a cool preserving environment.

Oyster Creek, first run by the same company that brought us such hits as Three Mile Island, is now run by the company that brought us the spring blockbuster known as The Great East Coast Blackout, and remains a major local attraction. The energy museum on the north end of the site burnt down several years ago when a forrest fire blazed right up to the edge of the plant site, but any given day you will find a dozen or so local residents fishing off the Route 9 (locally known as Thunder Road, due to the Springstein song) bridge on the southern side of the plant. The plant's exit stream is known as one of the best local fishing spots due to the slightly (sometimes radically) warmer waters present. In the evening you can watch the sun set over the plant, and in the morning experience the eerie fog present on the south side of the plant.

Also visible in this image is the past path of the defunct rail line running along Route 9 that government plans cite as the route for transporting its growing nuclear waste stockpile. You may notice how it suddenly ends at the roads on either side of the plant. A few years ago the local waste site was augmented to hold even more waste, as the plant continues to have its license extended again and again, pushing far beyond the plant's designed lifetime. Oyster Creek, rusted drywell and all, continues to pound away, never at full capacity, and likely will for years to come until this lovely chunk of Ocean County is evacuated and turned into a wildlife preserve.