Travel Biography - Week 115.

Plausible? Perhaps, but too impractical.

Last week, I ended my travel blog by commenting on the 1998 visit to the Boston USS Constitution - spoilt by following a group escort in a mandatory ranger-led tour. I then referred back to 1982, when I paid to visit the underground Catacombs of St John in Siracusa, Italy. Back in 1982, I had the freedom to wander through the tunnels on my own and at my own pace. I then compared my second visit to the same catacombs 24 years later in 2006, when I had to join an escorted tour. I then briefly remarked about the Corridor trails leading into the Grand Canyon becoming restricted to ranger-led hiking tours sometime in the future.

That wasn't a glib shot at sarcasm. Rather, I thought it through before making the statement. Considering the rate of erosion caused by thousands of feet treading the same area each year, the rate of accidents, illness - especially heatstroke or hyponatremia, along with exhaustion, and even death, I'm somewhat surprised that, unlike the USS Constitution and the tunnels of the Sicilian catacombs, anyone could casually stroll down, or serious hike the Canyon trails unescorted.

No escorts here! Start of lone GC hike in 1978.

Ranger-led hikes into the Canyon? How could that be possible? Considering that, for example, only 1% of all visitors hike all the way down to the river to spend the night on the Canyon floor on a typical day, thus, installing a secure gate at the trailhead of both the Bright Angel and South Kaibab trails. Phantom Ranch, on the floor of the Canyon, accommodates up to 90 guests, hence four or five groups could be led by bus to the South Kaibab trailhead, hike down, spend the night at the ranch, and then after a hearty breakfast, be led up back to the rim via Bright Angel Trail.

As plausible as it seems, escorted hikes would never work in practice (thank goodness!) First of all, with the large number of escorts required for duty days and days off for recovery, each ranger must be thoroughly fit and fully trained, having knowledge of every crook and cranny of each trail and surrounding environment, including the names of every butte and other rock features visible, along with the names of different species of vegetation and wildlife. Furthermore, there will always be hikers who would discreetly break from the group to do their own thing, others tiring and needing to rest, especially on the ascent, and some falling ill, thus in need of rescue and medical care, and holding up the group.

Indeed, the idea of ranger-led escorted hiking groups into the Grand Canyon and along trails through other National Parks is so unrealistic, that I doubt that would ever happen. To that, I'm relieved.

About to board the ferry to Provincetown.

We sail past the Boston Bay NP Islands.

A crowd of casual sunbathers on board.

How a Ferry Sailing to Provincetown reveals my heart's inner core.

Therefore, how gutted I felt when, after publishing last week's blog, my curiosity for updates on the USS Constitution led me to browse the website Tripadvisor under the heading, USS Constitution. Since my visit to the frigate docked at the Boston district of Charlestown in 1998, much has changed by the time I wrote this blog in 2024. That is, at present, each visitor is free to wander unescorted around the decks and the interior of the ship. How I felt gutted - despite the tightened security! 

Before boarding the frigate, each visitor must pass through an airport-style security system and show their ID. As an overseas visitor, I would have to show my passport before boarding. In 1998, none of that was there, as to be led by an escort, it wasn't needed. Thus, my dayhike along the Freedom Trail ended with a feeling of humiliation after I was ordered off the ship after wandering alone from the group.

The next day was warm and sunny, after the cloud that made the overcast sky that hung over the city, dispersed. From the hostel, I made my way to the harbour. At one of the docks, believed to be where the tea was thrown overboard in 1773, a ferry was moored, taking on passengers before a three-hour, 50-mile sailing to Provincetown, on the tip of Cape Cod Peninsula.

Once on board, the sailing was smooth and uneventful. After pulling out of Boston, the ferry sailed past several islands that make up the Boston Harbour National Park. But what struck me was the crowd of mostly young people sunbathing topless on the deck. I had never seen any of that before, and I cannot imagine anything like this on a British ferry, especially those which cross the Channel. There was no rowdiness, no drunken debauchery. Instead, everyone sunbathed quietly while the crew concentrated on getting the ship safely docked in Provincetown Harbour.

Boats in Massachusetts Bay.

The ferry docks at Provincetown Harbour.

Provincetown Dock.

Cape Cod is a peninsula jutting out of the southern stretch of the Massachusetts coastline near the border of Rhode Island. On the map, it resembles a human arm with its hand clenched in a tight fist - as if America is shaking its fist in anger at Britain across the Atlantic Ocean. Cape Cod is a striking geological and geographical symbol of the Boston Tea Party and the American Revolution.

The town of Provincetown is built on the southern side of the 'fist' - the terminus of the 65-mile (105 km) peninsula. The town was the vacation resort for President Clinton during his term of office. I saw no skyscrapers there. Instead, each building was two to three storeys high. I found that the sunshine brought out a cheerful atmosphere, with the main street swarming with pedestrians strolling casually along. In all, I would say that Provincetown resembled more of a spruced-up Olde West settlement than a modern American city.

Throughout the few hours I spent at Provincetown, I did little other than explore the town and its sandy beach and its ugly, industrial-looking dock on which the ferry was moored. Some small boats were anchored in position on the bay, each one rocking gently in the near calm sea. Unfortunately, at the time, I knew very little or next to nothing about the town or Cape Cod itself, except that there was an alternate way to get to Provincetown from Boston. The main freeway, Route 6, enables the motorist to drive the whole way. However, it would have been possible to hike from Provincetown to Race Point Beach, a beautiful stretch of sand backed by a sandbank covered with beach grass. Race Point Beach is on the 'knuckle' of the 'fist' and faces directly north, and it's approximately 3 miles (5 km) from Provincetown.  

 

However, for me to complete the Knuckle Dayhike, as I would affectionately call it, I would need a full day on Cape Cod. Since six hours of the day was spent on board the ferry, to enjoy the hike without feeling pushed, I would have needed two nights spent at Provincetown. The hike would be completed on the second day, between the two nights.

The afternoon turned to early evening, and it was time to board the ferry for the return sailing to Boston. In all, I liked Provincetown, and its casual holiday environment presented an alternative and a break from the hustle and bustle of city life, even if Boston was more quieter and sedate than Manhattan. The sunshine brought out the colours to their full glory, hence allowing me to see the resort at its best.

Provincetown. The town hall is to the right.

Walking along the main street, Provincetown.

A lively resort.

On the ferry, I was leaning on the parapet, looking out to sea, when I was approached by a pretty woman close to my age. She opened the conversation to find out our backgrounds. She was impressed when I said that I was from the UK and backpacking. Her American drawl was obvious and I knew that she was local. Her name was Sarah.

Sarah and I talked for the whole of the three-hour duration of the journey. When the ferry docked in Boston, I was expecting her to part, so I could return to the hostel. Instead, we stayed together until we found a coffee shop. There, we sat for a long time, talking, and I was amazed at how interested she was in me.

She eventually left, making her way to Boston North Station to board a train to her home in the city's outer suburbs. But I was shaken all over emotionally. My thoughts flashed back to 1994. That was the year I was a volunteer at Stella Carmel Christian Conference Centre in Isfya, near Haifa in northern Israel. It was at Stella Carmel where other volunteers treated me as a pariah.

The source of this dreadful putdown and humiliation was Josephine, one of the Christian volunteers who disliked me for being 'old school' and that I believed that appropriate tasks should be assigned according to gender. In other words, during one of the weekly meetings with the permanent staff, I said that domestic work should be assigned to the girls while we boys tackled the heavier maintenance tasks. When the manager knew that I was right, he made that known to all of us. This shocked Josephine and the other female volunteers, and I was verbally bullied and came close to a physical attack. Eventually, I was dismissed from the centre before my time and spent a full month in Jerusalem before flying home in a dreadful emotional state. My Christian faith was almost permanently destroyed.

Wind forward four years and here I was, on a ferry to Boston, and I was approached by a friendly American who seemed interested in me. There was an inner clash of emotions. 

The next day, I was alone as I walked the streets of the city. I looked around. I was standing at Quincy Market. I was about to cry, to shed tears. Sarah's friendliness has broken me down, and the deepest secrets of my soul, of which I was unaware, came to the fore. In desperation, I phoned the number she had given me, in a public phone booth. The call was answered by a male voice. When I asked for Sarah, he said that she was not at home. Suddenly, a rush of relief filled my soul. After the phone call, I felt much better, and I was able to continue with my stay in Boston. Sarah's power over me was broken.

But a light has illuminated my soul. I was in my forties and still single. It wasn't right. Something was missing. It was love. Physical love. Not only to be loved but to love and cherish another person. Someone to love and protect, to care for, to cherish. And to be loved, cared for and cherished. A two-way relationship with another human, a female, someone to alleviate fear and loneliness. Instead, as a singleton approaching middle age, I thought about my school classmates of the sixties. I wouldn't be surprised that by 1998, over thirty years, many of them would already be grandparents. And here I was - single, lonely, and childless. Furthermore, I was at the end of the family generational line.

No wonder I resorted to world travel! Yes, all that was good, as I still had in mind another Round-the-World backpacking trip planned in the next few years. But as I grow older, my legs weaken, my facial complexion starts to wrinkle, and in need of a walking aid, what would I have? An extra large photo library to revive a fading memory? Unfortunately, I'll be leaving all that behind the moment I step off the planet. 

Hence the dramatic contrast between Josephine and Sarah, four years and thousands of miles apart. A churchgoer takes away all sense of personal worth. A secular woman helps restore it.

But in Boston, I knew nothing of the coming life-changing set of circumstances. Back in our hometown, another interested female also has her eyes on me. And so, as I look ahead, would South Africa become a reality, as Australia already has?  

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Next Week: A visit to the Aquarium, whale watching, and preparing to fly home.

Travel Biography - Week 114.

Hiking the Boston Freedom Trail.

Boston is renowned for its history, and this city in the State of Massachusetts was the birthplace of the USA as an independent and sovereign nation after the 1773 Boston Tea Party had started a trend towards a breakaway from British Empire colonialism. Hence, several historic sites are found within the city centre and also across the Charles River in the northern district of Charlestown.

There are 16 historical sites, 14 of them in the city centre, and the last two in Charlestown. All these sites are linked by the Freedom Trail, which I followed during my visit in 1998. However, there was one site I missed, Site 10, the Boston Massacre Site. In last week's blog, I mentioned that the marker was a circular slab resembling a manhole cover. This description was taken from a Google photo, which gave a false impression of the slab's size. Since it's one of the trail's 'stations', I have included it here as a stock photo in its proper place on the trail, after the Old State House, but before Faneuil Hall. The fact that Faneuil Hall could be seen from a distance as I approached the building was, I think, why I missed the Site of the Massacre. I must have walked straight past it as my eyes were set on the historic building.

The trail itself is 2.5 miles long, or 4 km, but due to unfamiliarity and without a guide, I didn't start the hike at the proper start 'station' which was located on Boston Common, but on Treemont Street, just twenty metres short of the proper start.

On each of the sites, I will give a very brief description, of its history, and purpose, taken from Wikipedia.

Site 1 - Boston Common Start Station.

This was the only site I didn't see. But according to the Internet, it looks to be a modern building with a shop selling information about the trail. It was here where I could have bought a guidebook and read about each site during the hike. In 1998, I joined the trail at Treemont Street, about twenty metres from the proper start.

Site 2 - Massachusetts State House.

This houses the State Government and includes the State Capitol and the General Court, along with the offices of the Governor of Massachusetts. Its construction was completed in 1798, which was 25 years after the Boston Tea Party, and nine years after the election of President George Washington.

Site 3 - Park Street Church.

This is a Congregational Evangelical Church with up to 1,200 members. From the laying of its cornerstone on 1st May 1809, it was completed just under seven months later around Christmas of that year. Its steeple is 66 metres high, making it the tallest building in the USA between 1810 and 1828. When the church opened, 26 members who attended the Old South Meeting House moved to Park Street Church. These members rose up to initiate the 1773 Boston Tea Party.

Site 4 - The Granary Burial Ground.

This site has 2,345 grave markers, but as many as 5,000 could be buried there, according to historians. Dating back to 1660, this is the burial ground for those who gave their lives during the Revolutionary Wars and includes five graves of victims of the Boston Massacre. Its name originated from a granary that stood on the site of the Park Street Church which was nearby.

Site 5 - Kings Chapel and its Burial Ground.

This was the home of the Unitarian Church, a group that denies the doctrine of the Trinity, but instead, insists that God is one single entity, and his Son, Jesus, was not equal to the Father in essence. The church building was completed in 1754, and in 1960 became a National Historic Landmark, due to its unique Roman-style columns fronting the church. The Burial Ground, not affiliated with the church, dates back to 1630 and the graves are of Anglican parishioners. It's the oldest burial ground in Boston.

Site 6 - Site of Boston's first Public School of Latin.

The site is decorated with brickwork embedded in the sidewalk marking the site of Boston Latin School, founded in 1638, making it the oldest school in colonial America and the USA. It was originally modelled on the Boston Grammar School in England. The school exists today at Avenue Louis Pasteur, several miles southwest of the city.

Site 7 - The Old Corner Bookstall.

This large building was completed in 1718 and it was a tenement and apothecary shop (a pharmacy to us) before it became a bookstore in 1828. However, by the time I arrived there, it had already closed down just a year earlier in 1997. In 1960, this handsome building was threatened with demolition, to be replaced with an (ugly) parking garage, but was rescued by Historic Boston, a preservation society similar to our National Trust, who purchased the building for $100,000.

Site 8 - Old South Meeting House.

Completed in 1729, the Old South Meeting House was the Congregational church before Park Street Church opened in 1809. It was here in 1773 that the organising of the Boston Tea Party took place, with around 5,000 colonialists gathering in what was Boston's largest building.

Site 9 - The Old State House.

This building was completed in 1713, and originally it served as the Massachusetts General Court until 1798. After that, it housed the Boston Hall, then hired out for commercial use until 1881, thereafter it served as a museum right up to 2019.

Site 10 - The Boston Massacre Site.

Stock Photo.

This was the site I missed as I walked from the Old State House to Faneuil Hall. Perhaps with my eyes fixed on the large building, it was easy to walk past this circular stonework embedded in the ground. However, I include a stock photo here with a person giving the scale of its size. The site is a memorial of the Boston Massacre in 1770 when a crowd of colonial civilians rose up to protest against the heavy-handedness of the British. Several in the crowd were shot dead to quell the rebellion.

Site 11 - Faneuil Hall.

Interior of Faneuil Hall.

This large, handsome building is a marketplace and meeting hall. It was built in 1742. Orators such as Samuel Adams and James Otis encouraged civilians to assemble inside and were encouraged to vie for American independence from British colonial rule. Other than the USS Constitution, Faneuil Hall was the only building on the Trail where I was able to look around inside.

Site 12 - Paul Revere House and Gardens.

Paul Revere Gardens.

Paul Revere House was built in 1680 and it was the home of the American Patriot and one of the Founding Fathers during the American Revolution. Although the wooden shack-like structure may lack aesthetics, it became a National Historic Landmark in 1961. I believe it's now a museum with an entry fee. The trail then continues through Paul Revere Gardens.

Site 13 - The Old North Church.

I'm aware that this is a poor picture I took of the spire. That is what happened when I decided to snap a picture of a structure with white cladding blending with a cloudy sky! The church was built in 1723 as a mission church, the oldest in Boston. The sexton, Robert Newman, hung two lanterns on the steeple in 1775 to warn Paul Revere and his associates of nearby British military activity during his Midnight Ride.

Site 14 - Copps Hill Burial Ground.

The cemetery was founded in 1659, it's the second oldest burial ground after King's Chapel cemetery which was founded in 1630. This is where 1,200 marked graves of colonial Bostonians up to the 1850s.

Site 15 - The USS Constitution.

Nicknamed 'Old Ironsides', this three-mast frigate was launched in 1797 and played a vital role in the 1812 War against the United Kingdom. Its hull withstood the cannonball shots from enemy ships, hence earning its nickname. Its durability played a role in leading to victory for the USA. Like the Faneuil Hall, the USS Constitution is open to the public, but only in escorted tours. Despite my dislike for ranger-led tours, I joined one to explore the ship more thoroughly. After the tour was over, I diverted from the group to take another look at its interior without touching or disturbing anything in it. In next to no time, one of the rangers ordered me to leave unless I was in a tour group. Without a fuss, I disembarked.

Site 16 - Bunker Hill Monument.

This 67-metre-high monument was closed when I arrived, so I couldn't climb the 294 steps to the lookout. Therefore, missing out on splendid views (and photos) of Boston. It commemorates the Battle of Bunker Hill in Charlestown in 1775.

Conclusion.

That day, I completed the trail. In addition to exploring the interior of Faneuil Hall and the USS Constitution, I also spent some time in the Constitution Maritime Museum which was near the frigate. Although all the information above was from Wikipedia to ensure that I got all the facts correct, during my 1998 visit to Boston, I became familiar with all the 'stations' of the Freedom Trail, including their names.

Although the closure of the Bunker Hill Monument was a slight disappointment, this didn't bother me too much, as the air wasn't very clear, so any views would have been restricted. However, I couldn't help but feel somewhat humiliated when I was ordered off the frigate. At the time, I couldn't help but compare the USS Constitution with the slightly older HMS Victory dry-docked at Portsmouth, on the southern coast of England. Some years ago, my wife and I were allowed to wander freely around the interior of the ship, as most visitors did, although ranger-led tours were also available for anyone who preferred them.

And my experience on that Boston frigate has made me think about the future of Travel as I write this blog. Did past generations of tourists have the freedom to wander around the frigate unescorted? I recall 1982. When I was backpacking Italy and its southern island of Sicily, I had unrestricted access to the Catacombs of St John in Siracusa. Back then, I wandered through the underground tunnels unescorted, free to take as many pictures as I wished. When I returned in 2006, I saw that a waiting room and gift shop had since been built. And no one was allowed into the tunnels unless one was in an escorted group. In addition, photography was forbidden in 2006* When it comes to ancient or historical sites, is the individual, independent traveller a dying breed? Would it be possible that one day, no one would be allowed to hike the Grand Canyon unless in a group led by an escort? For the sake of future generations, I hope that will never happen!

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*For details of my 1982 trip to the Catacombs and how this compares with 2006 and the present, click here.

Next Week - A boat cruise to Provincetown.

Travel Biography - Week 113.

Preparing to travel to Boston, Massachusetts.

On Day Nine after arriving in New York, I vacated my bed at the world's largest HI-AYH backpackers hostel to start my 216-mile journey to Boston, where I would spend the next five days of this 1998 two-week backpacking break. Furthermore, unlike New York, this would be my first visit to Boston. I was keen to see this city after bypassing it in the four past trips I made to the USA.

The day before I left the Big Apple, I visited Penn Station and asked whether there were trains to Boston. Unlike the Grand Terminus, Penn was a through station where trains from Massachusetts, Vermont, Maine, and New Hampshire would stop at New York and then proceed to Philadelphia and the rest of the USA. At the ticketing kiosk, a friendly staff member explained that a service was due to depart the next day, and told me the fare for the journey.

Since I was conscious of the budget, I hesitated, and then declined the transaction, having decided to take the oh-so-familiar Greyhound Americruiser instead. Looking back, it was a decision I have since regretted. To this day, I would love to try out a sample of American train travel other than the subway.

Having boarded the bus at the Port Authority Bus Terminal, the five-hour journey went smoothly, with one service stop halfway.

Boston Skyline.

Quincy Market, Boston.

At Quincy Market, Boston

I arrived at the Boston Bus terminal and as I exited to find the hostel, I was confronted by a couple of towering cranes. In 1998, the John F. Fitzgerald Expressway still flew over the city. But the project to tunnel the road under the city and replace the flyover site with gardens was already underway. If only I could return to Boston now. I would see a city much enhanced by the absence of the flyover and instead, I would see a series of gardens marking the former site of the expressway, while the main carriageway tunnelled underground.

I found the hostel, which was on Stuart Street, and checked in for the next four nights. Unlike in New York, this was an average-sized hostel with a proper size kitchen and dining room, and like any other hostel, this one too, was well-equipped with decent utensils, crockery, and cutlery. Boston was more friendly to the budget traveller than New York was. However, like in Santa Monica, I had to show my receipt at reception every time I entered after being out for the day. On one occasion, I got hassled by one of the staff members, apparently a student who was working part-time at the reception, who insisted on seeing the receipt, after walking straight in. Yet, I thought that by then, I was a familiar face, having already spent a couple of nights there. However, my reasoning would never stand against a young man who wanted to prove his powers.

The street layout of Downtown Boston didn't conform to the American symmetrical grid pattern, but more of an English tangle of urban streets, hence, giving a clue to its history as a British colony. In turn, South Boston was laid out in a small symmetrical grid, indicating that this particular area was developed later in its history. Boston was smaller than Manhattan and more compact, yet the city atmosphere was not as bustling as New York, but more quiet and sedate, thus less stressful. 

Similar to London, Boston has two railroad terminus stations, Boston North and Boston South. Had I arrived in the city from New York by train, I would have passed through the South Station. Two subway lines pass under the city, the Red Line and the Blue Line. I used one of the lines a couple of times. For example, the Blue Line linked the city to Logan Airport, where I later took off for London Gatwick.

Winter Street, Boston shopping precinct.

The Three Cranes Tavern Archaeological Site.

Like New York, Boston hugs the Atlantic coastline at Massachusetts Bay where the mouths of three rivers converge in the city, the Charles River, the Mystic River, and the Chelsea River. The bay itself, with Winthrop to the north, and Allerton to the south, formed two peninsulas, along with several islands within, the large bay could be classed as a lagoon, with Boston Islands National Park within the area. Logan Airport juts out into the lagoon, east of the city.

The City's History in a Nutshell.

Boston is famous for its 1773 Tea Party on December 16th of that year, although, at the time, the event wasn't referred to as a party, implying a birthday festival. Rather it was a rebellion from the colonial Sons of Liberty against the taxes imposed by the British Government when the tea was imported to be sold into the American continent from China (Source: Wikipedia). Instead of submitting to their British rulers, on that day, the entire cargo of tea was thrown overboard from the ship that brought it. Another ship docking in Philadelphia (inland, on the Delaware River) and holding a cargo of tea was returned to England intact, without unloading any of its cargo. This was the lesser-known Philadelphia Tea Party.

The rebellion against Britain by the colonies resulted in unrest, leading to various battles that characterised the American Revolution that lasted three years to 1776. On July 4th, 1776, the American Declaration of Independence was announced, setting itself free from the domain of the British Empire. It could be said then, that it was here in Boston that the birth of the USA as an independent sovereign country had its roots, and in 1789, George Washington became America's first president. 

Indeed, I saw the harbour where the Tea Party was supposed to have taken place. Near to it was the City Aquarium which I visited. More of that later.

The Public Garden, Rowing Lakes, and Archaeology.

One area I was impressed with was the Public Garden which adjoins Boston Common. Yes, I was surprised when I found out its name - Public Garden. Furthermore, unlike Boston Common which was irregular in shape due to the urban street layout surrounding it, the Public Garden was a symmetrical rectangle, a smaller version of New York's Central Park. It was enhanced by an elongated lake, on which pleasure boats plied around its area. Bang in the middle of the pond, a footbridge crosses it, and I spent some time just leaning on the parapet and watching the pleasure boats (two of them at the time) pass under the bridge.

The boats were large enough to accommodate just a few passengers, yet their motors were silent as the boat glided slowly along the length of the lake. But I didn't take advantage. What I would have preferred was a boating lake, like Hyde Park's Serpentine in London, where rowing boats are available for hire. Or on the River Thames in Windsor or Henley. This was one activity I missed while I was in America. Rowing. I didn't see any boats for hire at Central Park or here in Boston. Nor, if I recall, anywhere else across the Atlantic.

Could it be that private boat hire (and not as a club member) is uniquely British? After all, I didn't see any rowing boats for hire in Australia, either. Yet, in a small lake in Grasmere, at the Lake District National Park, boat hire was readily available, as in Windermere and perhaps also at Derwentwater.

Is rowing in a privately hired boat really unique to Britain? It's quite a point, that! Considering the last few Olympic Games, which in Paris 2024 had just ended, in canoe rowing, there was hardly an event where the British Olympic Team failed to win a medal. If there's a sport where the British are world champions, it's rowing. After all, growing up in a hired rowing boat has a greater likelihood of joining a canoeing club and receiving professional coaching.

But here in Boston, anyone who wishes to sail across the lake pays for an 'escorted' sailing, as was in the river at the Texan city of San Antonio in 1978. Back then, I paid for a seat in one of their pleasure boats. But it was still not the same. I find paddling the oars, and exercising my shoulder, arm, and chest muscles as I glide across the calm water backwards, and the need to turn my head now and again so as not to run into an obstruction, another boat, or onto the bank. It was always exhilarating! Indeed, had there been a boat hire platform in Boston, and perhaps in Central Park as well, I wouldn't hesitate for a moment.

Boston Public Gardens.

Pleasure Boats, Public Gardens.

There was one site which could be classified as archaeological, and that was on a small area of grass in the City Square. Resembling the foundation of a Roman temple, I already knew that the Romans never invaded North America. I couldn't blame them, as there was no candy floss at the time! Instead, the site marked the location of a 17th-century tavern that once stood there. Finding information about the site was difficult, but I believe that the site was where the Great House was built in 1629 and was converted to a tavern in 1635 after it was purchased by an innkeeper, Robert Long. The name of the tavern was The Three Cranes. It was destroyed by a fire during the Battle of Bunker Hill in 1775. Although I have checked the Internet for this piece of information, when I stood at the site in 1998, I already knew that this was once a tavern.

This historical gem sets Boston apart from any modern American city. As far as I'm aware, that was the first time I actually saw an archaeological site in the United States, although I'm aware of much older artwork of Native Americans found in desert locations such as the Grand Canyon, dating back thousands of years. Unfortunately, the Corridor Trails (Bright Angel, North and South Kaibab Trails) have not brought anyone close enough to see these artworks regularly.

Boston is rich in history. There are 16 sites within the city, all of them linked by the Freedom Trail. This is a line of red brick built into the sidewalk, hence there is never the risk of it fading under the thousands of footsteps that follow it each year. However, when I followed it in 1998, I counted only 15 sites, or 'stations' as I call them. This is my own terminology. I define 'station' as a stop on a route, whether it be by train, bus, or foot. I have used the word to refer to the rest huts spaced along the trail within the Grand Canyon. In the sport of Triathlon and the Marathon, the words 'drinks station' are quite legitimate.

But how did I count just 15 'stations' instead of 16? Surely, by staying on the trail, I couldn't miss any. One of the sites was that of the 1770 Boston Massacre, where nine British soldiers shot dead a crowd of civilians who rose up in protest over the Empire's heaviness in governing the colony. It is now marked by a circular slab resembling a decorated manhole cover embedded in the sidewalk. It was easy to miss. Or maybe I did mistake it for a manhole.

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Next Week: the Stations of Boston's Freedom Trail. 

Travel Biography - Week 112.

Miscellaneous Attractions in New York.

Like I said earlier if you're enthusiastic about ancient history and archaeological sites, there are better places to go to than New York. However, I saw that there were three factors connected with the Big Apple that is respectful to nature. One is the abundance of man-laid parks, including Central Park which is the main lung of the city. Although these parks - Central Park, Madison Square Park, and even Van Cortlandt Park in the Bronz are "artificial" rather than remnants of virgin land, there is one area of the original forest - the Thain Family Forest - found within the boundary of the Botanical Garden, is left as a remnant of the forest that once covered the whole of Manhatten Island and its surroundings. The Bronz River flows through this small patch of forest. This gives a microscopic impression of what the whole of Manhatten Island must have looked like before the European settlers arrived in the 1600s.

New York Stock Exchange.

The Federal Hall.

Wall St leading to Trinity Church.

Night View from the Empire State Building.

However, as New York lies in a cooler climate belt than Southern California and Florida, therefore these green areas lack the palm trees and subtropical vegetation so abundant further south and so endearing to me. This is ironic, as New York lies 40.73 degrees North, which is compatible with Madrid, which lies 40.16 degrees North, or Naples in Italy which is 40.09 degrees North. Yet, such subtropical vegetation thrives abundantly on all the lands surrounding the Mediterranean Sea. Palm trees are even found in the southwestern peninsula of England, especially in Cornwall (50.17 North.)

Yet, New York, on the same latitude belt as the Mediterranean, is deprived of such vegetative covering. Thus, Europe (including Britain) and the Mediterranean have the advantage of being at the receiving end of the warm Gulf Stream. Unlike New Yorkers who tend to have bitter-cold winters, over here in the UK, we're less uncomfortable with milder winters.

The third factor I love about New York is that the city is surrounded by abundant water. The Hudson River, to the west of Manhattan, and the East River both open to the Upper Bay, a large inlet of the North Atlantic Ocean. However, unlike off the coast of Queensland, there are no coral reefs or any spectacular marine phenomenon worth diving or snorkelling over with an underwater camera.

Despite all that, I found some interesting places worth visiting, especially in the southern tip of Manhattan, across the East River and into Brooklyn. I mentioned the New York Stock Exchange a couple of weeks ago, and I visited the public gallery to watch the hectic trading taking place. Near to it, is the Federal Hall, a very handsome building designed after an ancient Roman temple. One pleasant afternoon, I sat casually among others on the steps leading to its entrance. However, I entered the building to see that it housed a museum on the history of New York. The entrance was free.

I found it interesting to learn that geographically, Manhattan Island was slightly shorter in its former natural state than at present, as Battery Park was reclaimed from the sea before Castle Clinton was built. Its original name was New Amsterdam before the Brits came in the 18th Century and the name changed to New York. The growing city was the capital of America until 1790 when the status was transferred to Philadelphia before being transferred again to the present Washington District of Colombus. These historical facts I learned while I spent an afternoon inside the Federal Hall.

Inside the New York Natural History Museum.

Natural History Museum.

Fifth Avenue.

Statue of Prometheus, Rockefeller Building.

On another day, after a lie-in at the hostel dormitory, I went to visit the New York Museum of Natural History on 8th Avenue facing Central Park and nestling between 77th and 81st Streets, I believe it's the largest museum of any kind in the world. The entrance wasn't free, but instead, I had to queue up to pay my fee at one of the kiosks. The museum was so huge, with so many galleries, that I selected one or two to give my attention. The most popular gallery housed the bones of Dinosaurs, and here was where the crowds were. The exhibits were more bipedal carnivores than the sauropods. When I took photos of the exhibits, someone unintentionally photobombed, so I covered his face before publishing it here to hide his identity on a public website.

I reached the marine gallery before the museum closed for the night. I had one regret. I arrived so late in the day, as it was already afternoon before I entered. But at least I got to see the most famous gallery. But even if I managed a whole day there, I wouldn't have got around to seeing all of it. Instead, I would have prioritised according to the level of interest. For example, prehistoric life, including marine fossils, would have come before present marine creatures, although I would have preferred to see them alive in an aquarium. Stuffed mammals and birds held little interest to me personally, and had the announcement come for the museum's closing before I got to those galleries, I would have left with little or no regret. Probably, this was an advantage of being alone. Had I been with someone else, chances were that he would have been excited over the sight of stuffed birds, rhinos and even elephants. In that case, I would have preferred to visit the zoo.

Another building I entered was Macy's, the New York branch of the store was the world's largest hyperstore, again of any kind. While I was in the store, I made a comparison with Miss Selfridge in London's Oxford Street. Although the latter wasn't as huge, it had a far greater variety of merchandise catering to the home. By contrast, Macy's was a clothes store, selling every garment ever thought of. There was even a whole floor dedicated to clothing babies and young children. Except in the basement. Here, the floor was taken by a display of ebony black grand pianofortes. Like all the clothing on display above, each piano was waiting for a buyer. However, where each garment demanded a few dollars each, each piano demanded thousands of dollars, I saw as I wandered around.

Pier 17.

Jefferson Market Courthouse, Greenwich Village.

Brooklyn Bridge Boardwalk.

At Brooklyn Esplanade.

It amazes me to see that when it comes to superlatives, New York City remains the record holder. I know of at least four largest buildings in the world, and I have been in each of them - the HI-AYH hostel, the Empire State (until 1970), the Natural History Museum, and Macy's.

Walking along 5th Avenue, where all the banks were, I also arrived at the Rockefeller Center with its decorative patio. Indeed, this too had a viewing gallery, known as the Top of the Rock, 260 metres high on the 69th floor. But I didn't go up after having been up to the Empire State Building viewing gallery which was higher. However, I had to admire one of its art displays, the statue of Prometheus in its golden finish.

Another area I visited was Greenwich Village, located on the Lower West Side of Manhattan. South of 14th Street, the street layout loses its symmetrical grid pattern characteristic of the rest of the city. It was in one of its residential streets where I called up to someone leaning out of the window while he was celebrating France's win in the 1998 FIFA World Cup Final. That was how I found out who won the tournament.

The town plan of Greenwich Village was more like London than Midtown Manhattan. The buildings here were generally lower in height and there were no skyscrapers in the vicinity. The only building here worthy of attention was the Jefferson Market Courthouse with its clock tower dominating the local skyline.

A Walk to Brooklyn.

More than once I crossed the East River on the walkway above Brooklyn Bridge, a wonderful feat of civil engineering. Hence, the views of Manhattan with its Twin Towers along with Brooklyn on the other side, were enhanced from the boardwalk. The lane was also a cycleway where a rider could cross without entangling with motorised traffic.

Over the bridge, once I walked past the headquarters of the Watchtower Society, the coast of Brooklyn I saw was lined with derelict docking and loading piers. However, despite its dereliction, nature has taken over, greening over the structures and toning down the ugliness of the neglect to impose its own version of life, even restoring an element of beauty-for-ashes. 

However, in Fulton Street Mall in the centre of Brooklyn itself, a large, brightly coloured 2nd floor of a two-storey building with the logo, Brooklyn Dentalcare sat on the 1st floor, occupied by a Pizza restaurant, declared that anyone in view with a toothache is welcome to visit. Fortunately, at the time, my teeth were fine. Had they not been, I wondered what exorbitant price would be charged for a filling here in America. Not to mention the more complicated procedure of root canal work, something that I had to have done in my mouth more than 25 years previously.

Also in Brooklyn, I passed the statue of Henry Ward Beecher, a charity worker and like William Wilberforce and Thomas Clarkson, Beecher was also involved with the abolishment of negro slavery. The statue stood in a wide open space which wasn't far from the Borough Hall. But the main shopping street of Brooklyn was Montague Street, Brooklyn Heights.

The Derelict Dockyard, Brooklyn.

The Borough Hall, Brooklyn.

Statue of Henry Ward Beecher, Brooklyn.

Fulton Street, Brooklyn.

Brooklyn was more sedate than Manhattan with hardly any skyscrapers. Like in Greenwich Village, the buildings making up the town looked more like an English city than an American one, except that all the streets were straight, but the town layout consisted of several small symmetrical grids laid at different angles to each other. The people here seemed to have a more relaxed attitude and not so much of a hurried pace.

In Conclusion...

My 1998 stay in New York consisted of visiting three distinct parts, Manhattan, the main city where my hostel was located on Amsterdam Avenue and West 103rd Street, the Bronx, northeast of Manhattan and home of the New York Botanical Garden, and Brooklyn, south of Manhattan. In all, I enjoyed visiting the area, despite that I have always believed that backpacking is more to do with nature hikes and, in my case, marine snorkelling. But I have found that city breaks could be equally exhilarating, providing that I knew how to take care of myself and watch for any potential threat of harassment, especially from aggressive beggars.

No city is without public parks and gardens, and no intelligent planning would shut nature out from urbanisation. The huge area of Central Park has plenty of variety, and it took a full day for me to check out the park thoroughly. Likewise, the NYBG featured a remnant of the original forested land before New York was ever built, with the peaceful flow of the Bronz River adding to its beauty and serenity.

In all, visiting New York in 1998 was the right decision.

But the holiday was far from over. After nine days, I didn't head for the airport. Instead, I made my way to the Port Authority Bus Station to prepare for a 216-mile Greyhound Americruiser journey to Boston, Massachusetts, for a five-day stay at the HI-AYH Boston.

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Next Week: The Journey to Boston.