Still, the mayors of these communities had to consider the dangers that remained. The Brick police chief, Nils R. Bergquist, said he watched a woman walk out her front door and drop waist-deep into sand that had been made soupy by the storm that reflooded much of the island in late December.

Many houses remain without electricity, and therefore without burglar alarms. And with few neighbors to keep watch over other’s homes, the chief and his colleagues along the shore pressed elected officials for the restrictions to prevent looting.

Though the National Guard pulled up their checkpoints along the barrier island last week, after more than two months of restricting access to its communities, the State Police sent more troopers in, and their cars idle along Route 35 to question anyone who stops. Only residents and contractors are allowed on side streets. Residents who go out between 6 p.m. and 5 a.m. have to drive, not walk. And the police have set up machines to take pictures of the license plate of every car that travels along Route 35.

While cleanup has begun, there are still many homes here blown open by the storm. Piles of appliances and debris line Route 35. In Brick, a middle-class community of 75,000 said to have more oceanfront property than any other town in New Jersey, the storm rendered more than 200 homes uninhabitable, including 109 that burned just after the hurricane hit land. South of here, Seaside Heights looks more like a moonscape than a town, with sand swirled around homes and more heavy equipment than people on the streets. In Mantoloking, a town of 300 where 60 homes were completely destroyed by the storm, officials say another 200 houses may have to be demolished before it can safely reopen. The town still has no power.

Deborah Menzel cried last week as she drove over the Mantoloking Bridge to get to her home on the island after staying at a hotel two hours north for weeks. She had awakened at 3 a.m. excited to finally get home. Still, she said: “My husband asked me, ‘Do you really want to live here?’ I said, ‘What’s my option?’ ”

Lester Kurylo moved back to his house to protect it from looting once the National Guard left, even though there was still no heat on the first floor and he would not be able to go for his evening walks. The other year-round residents on his street have not come back. “I just don’t look left or right,” he said. “I’ve seen too much devastation.”