Travel Biography Photo Extravaganza - Part 3.

Why Two Consecutive Trips to America?

Having set foot on the North American Continent in 1977, I was thrilled! Only a year or two earlier, I couldn't have imagined such an achievement. Credit goes to Freddie Laker, an airline entrepreneur who, in the mid-seventies, opened the way for commoners, such as me, an opportunity to fly over the Atlantic Ocean at a price so reduced that I found to be within my budget.

During the seventies, I was an employee at a precision engineering company and had already "flown the nest" to set up a home for myself, with overtime, a good income, and plenty of patience, I saved up enough to pay for such a trip, itself inspired by the weekly detective drama, Starsky & Hutch. However, the difficulty in getting a US Entry Visa has ironically presented an opportunity to visit Canada and the USA, visiting Niagara Falls on one side of the continent, and Southern California on the other.

After arriving home, as a committed Christian, I became interested in historical geology and the long-established dispute between Charles Lyell's Uniformitarian Geology—a theory on which Charles Darwin built his evolutionary concepts—and pre-Abrahamic Holy Scriptures, especially on the Noachian Deluge, a subject I always found intriguing. One area of study was the Grand Canyon of the Colorado River cutting through the Kaibab Plateau of North Arizona.

Textbook pictures show how the stratified rock layers of various limestones and sandstones formed a "sandwich" of bedding planes, indicating that the whole Kaibab Plateau was once underwater. Each rock layer lay smoothly and horizontally on the layer beneath. The bedrock on which the whole strata rests is of schist, a variation of granite that forms the lower cliffs of the Inner Canyon and through where the underfit river flows. The bedrock is of uneven bedding, together with millions of years of geological layers "missing", this bedding plane is known as the Great Unconformity.

But reading books and looking at photos taken by someone else wasn't enough. Having already visited the States, I had a desire to return specifically to see the Canyon for myself. After counting the cost, I returned to the US Embassy in London to get an up-to-date visa stamped on my passport. This time, I walked out of the building on the same day with my passport stamped with a multiple-entry visa to last the rest of the passport's life.

And so, in 1978, I arrived at the Grand Canyon after landing at New York's Kennedy Airport. My initial intention was to look across the vast chasm while standing on the South Rim, and taking advantage of the facilities at the Village before returning to Flagstaff on the same day. At that time, I knew nothing about any trails leading to the Canyon floor, let alone hiking. Now, everything was about to change.

Due to a last-minute cancellation, a bed became available for one night at Phantom Ranch on the Canyon floor, near the Colorado River. I was offered the bed which I gladly accepted with excitement.

As I descended, following the switchbacks of Bright Angel Trail, storm clouds were gathering, and the environment became eerily dark. It was when the 110 Instamatic, which I bought in Toronto a year earlier in 1977, failed the test. Many of the Inner Canyon photos were under-exposed, causing the side cliffs to appear as silhouettes. I have included one or two examples here. Therefore, a second hike into the Canyon was called for to build a proper photo album, but I had to wait 17 years until 1995 before I had another opportunity.

All pictures were taken in 1978 using the 110 Instamatic. However, instead of prints, back then, I decided to have slides instead. With a compatible slide projector and a large white screen, I put on a spectacular show in my apartment for visiting family members, church members, and secular friends alike. 

Unfortunately, the projector had a short life with the bulb constantly blowing and needing to be replaced. Therefore, I don't have it anymore. As such, I attempted to transfer the relevant images onto this laptop using a slide viewer, pictured below. Since each slide is only 15mm x 10mm, reproducing them here was very difficult. Therefore, pardon me if each image looks slightly out of focus. On a laptop, each image should be discernable. But if expanded by clicking on it, the blur will become more obvious.

Nevertheless, I hope you will still enjoy looking at the 43 photos presented here. Initially, there were meant to be more, but these will be displayed on the 1995 blog which will be posted later.

You can go to the Index by clicking here for the main Biography relevant to these photos.

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Photos of USA 1978.

Viewer and slide size used in this week's display.

New York.

 "The street was blocked by fire engines and red cars."

At Downtown Manhatten, 1978.

The World Trade Center as it was in 1978.

Manhatten seen from Liberty Island.

Approaching the Statue of Liberty.

Inside the head. It felt like a sauna!

The Grand Canyon

The first view of the Canyon, 1978.

I gaze into the chasm.

The Bright Angel Trail is seen from the Rim.

Preparing for the Hike to Phantom Ranch.

The view as I begin the Hike.

Bright Angel Trail

Battleship Rock is on the Right.

Looking back at the South Rim from near Indian Gardens.

I stop a rare passerby in this lonely desert.

Entering the Devil's Corkscrew. Ghostly Orbs?

Photo failure. At the Colorado River the next morning.

Indian Gardens, on my way back up.

Los Angeles.

Downtown L.A. as it was in 1978.

The Broadway, Downtown Los Angeles.

Sleeping Beauty Castle, Disneyland.

Goofy? Or Pluto?

At Long Beach, California.

 At Long Beach.  Although breezy, I got sunburnt.

Tomorrowland, Disneyland.

At Disneyland.

San Francisco and Sausalito.

Union Square, San Francisco.

Panorama of Downtown San Francisco.

San Francisco palms.

Golden Gate Bridge touches low fog.

Oakland Bay Bridge passing Yerba Buena Island.

I cross Golden Gate Inlet to Marin County.

On a ferry to Sausalito, passing Alcatraz Island. 

At Sausalito, a town in Marin County.

Oakland Bay at Sausalito.

The Route from San Francisco to Miami, Florida.

Salt Lake City. I didn't stay this time but passed through.

A bus service stop allowed me to revisit SLC. 

A pause outside the Alamo, Texas.

Sailing on the San Antonio River.

Miami Beach, Florida

Posing at Miami Beach

Among the coconut palms at Miami Beach

Back to New York.

Last day in the USA, on the roof of the World Trade Center.

Present Facebook Avatar, Visitors Center, WTC.

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In composing this photo display, I apologise if these pics appear amateurish, as converting tiny slides into digital images was a difficult job with just a camera and a slide viewer. But in the past, I had better results using the same method, such as the two of me at the Grand Canyon with one of them carrying a rucksack. However, from a projector, all the images thrown onto the screen appeared sharp and more professional.

Also to note, over time, some of my slides have gone missing, including those I took of the French balconies gracing Bourbon Street in New Orleans French Quarter. Having said that, I hope you still enjoyed what I managed to present.

Next week, I'll still be using the slide-in-viewer method to compile images of Italy in the eighties. However, these slides are 35mm, thus it's most likely that I'll get better results from using the same method. I have done this before. The images appearing in the main Biography covering the eighties are from these slides.

Finally, these images are from 1978. A more detailed album of pics of the 1995 hike down the Grand Canyon will appear in a few weeks.  

Travel Biography - Week 108

1998 Travel Takes on a New Perspective.

In preparation for this week's blog, I unexpectedly came across some old photos of my 1978 trip to the States, narrated in Weeks 17, 18, and 26 of this Biography, featuring New York. This includes a recently found photo of the road blocked with fire engines and red cars after waking up on the first morning after arrival, as narrated in Week 18. As this week's article was written on the eve of the 2024 European Football Final between England and Spain, I believe this was a good time as ever to narrate about the timeslot after the end of the 1997 Round-the-World to why I flew to New York a year later in 1998 - the latter taking Travel to a whole new perspective. To get to the point: in 1998 I flew to New York to fearfully flee the UK.

How come?

It started in the late eighties. Back then, I got acquainted among fellow churchgoers with a radical Englishman I'll call Keith. His biggest regret was that in 1966, he was abroad on holiday with his family when England won the FIFA World Cup against Germany at Wembley Stadium. Later, after joining the Army, he was discharged before his time, possibly due to incompetence. Since then, he carried a chip on his shoulder from these two incidents. As most of his other friends were graduates, this didn't bode well with his self-esteem, and as a non-graduate myself, I was an ideal target to regard as "inferior in nationality."  

By 1990, when the next World Cup tournament was drawing near, I said the natural thing, considering that my bloodline was 100% Italian, even as a British citizen - I said that I preferred to support Italy, my ancestral home. Apparently, he didn't take that too well. He clung even closer to his support of the England team, and his greatest want was to see England knock out Italy during the tournament, and afterwards, bring home the famous trophy. 

John Bull the iconic Englishman.

The British Bulldog

Keith could have been a true-to-life icon of John Bull, an overweight tradesman sitting at the table and devouring ships from a foreign naval fleet, in this case, a Dutch fleet. The photo above was taken from the cover of Jeremy Paxman's book, The English, a Portrait of a People. Lately, John Bull was replaced by the British Bulldog, drawn with exaggerated body strength, a deep, masculine voice, stoic and devoid of emotion except that of anger should a foreigner arise to challenge him. And that was how a sports reporter from The Sun newspaper depicted the England Cricket team when they won against Pakistan during the early nineties.

It was Keith and another friend, Paul, a graduate, who teased me in 1997, just before I flew out to Singapore for the Round-the-World travel adventure. Keith wanted to see me sit in a Singaporean barber shop at Changa Airport, looking sad and morose as I watched my long hair fall to the floor around me. He knew how much having long hair meant to me. Instead, I returned to Britain with my hair having grown longer throughout the ten weeks I was away. By the time the 1998 tournament drew near, I felt apprehensive. Not so much with Italy knocked out as England making it to the Final and winning.

  Fire engines and red cars, 1978 - Week 18.

At New York City, 1978 - Week 18.

The World Trade Center, 1978.

Football - Christian or another Religion?

Only this week, someone at the morning Zoom prayer meeting declared that Britain is a Christian country. I don't disagree. As England took its place in the coming Final against Spain after defeating the Netherlands, the Dutch press labelled The Three Lions as The Miracle Team utilizing lucky last-minute flukes and penalty shootouts. This has brought me back to my friend Keith. It was during the weeks leading up to one of the World Cup tournaments during the nineties that he spent a week on prayer and fasting for an England win. But after 1966, England never lifted the trophy.

Then one Saturday in 2006, I went out to buy a national newspaper, I believe, The Daily Mail. On its front page, the headline blazed, MAYBE THERE IS A GOD AFTER ALL. The headline was referring to England player Wayne Rooney. As a Forward known for his abundant goal-scoring, he was a key player in the England squad, and the nation depended on this star to bring the trophy home. But a few weeks earlier, he injured his foot, disabling him to play at any game, let alone for England. Then the news came. Rooney's foot began to recover faster than what the doctors predicted. Answered prayers from churches around the nation? God had other ideas. Even with Wayne Rooney on the field, England was knocked out by Portugal in the quarter-finals.

Finally, back to the morning Zoom prayer meeting. It was announced that the Sunday evening prayer meeting held at the church would finish extra early so that the participants could arrive home in time for kick-off. Perhaps this prioritising of a football game over intercessory prayer makes me wish that our zeal for the Lord and for each other was greater than the want for national glory in a football game.

Preparing for New York and Boston Massachusetts.

Hence, by the summer of 1998, I felt an inner panic growing as the tournament grew nearer. I had to admit - I was afraid of Keith. Especially after such a wonderful Round-the-World adventure that might have stirred enough envy in him and in others for me to feel vulnerable. But this feeling of anxiety wasn't from any threat of violence. Neither Keith nor I would ever resort to fighting! Rather, I was afraid of his sense of national superiority, his gloating look, backed by relentless teasing, if England was to make it to the finals. By the time I returned, the dust would have settled.

This time, I didn't make the airline booking at Trailfinders, as I did on my previous two trips. Instead, I called at the YHA shop on Southampton Street, off the Strand, in London. This shop, at present no longer in existence, specialised in hostelling equipment, including clothing and kitchen utensils, as well as books on the Great Outdoors. The shop also featured a travel agent where flight bookings could be made as well as national and international hostel reservations. And this time, I wasn't alone, as I usually was. My friend Tim decided to come to London with me, and together we found the shop and entered.

The flight to New York from Heathrow Airport and the return from Boston to London Gatwick was offered by Virgin Airlines, with two different sites each for take-off and landing inflated the price to nearer £300 for a return ticket. I went ahead and purchased it, despite even Tim gasping at the expense. As for the hostel, a bed was reserved for me at the HI AYH New York City, with as many as 624 beds, thus the largest youth hostel in the world. Indeed, I was relieved not to stay at that seedy, bug-ridden hotel on 8th Avenue, like I did in both 1978 and 1995.

As the tournament drew near, so did tensions. As already mentioned a week previously, I was very discreetly but constantly watched by a young female teenager without becoming aware of her. So, this continued since before I took off for Singapore in 1997. However, my mind was on New York and Boston. And also in the 1998 FIFA World Cup, held in France, the host country.

However, as the football tournament progressed, England was knocked out at the Round of 16 by Argentina and didn't even make it to the quarter-finals. Damn it! I hadn't even taken off for New York, the airline tickets were fresh in my hand and still unused, and the Three Lions were already out of the tournament. Had my anxieties over Keith led me to act in vain? Did I still want to fly across the Atlantic to the Big Apple?

For a moment, I did have mixed feelings. There was a moment when I regretted buying those tickets. After all, my heart was set for a second Round-the-World adventure, landing in South Africa, Australia, and yes - California - unless there was a fresh alternative for the third stage. I had wished to keep all funding safe until I bought the airline ticket for Cape Town.

Eventually, I pulled myself together. New York and Boston with its Freedom Trail had much to offer to someone like me who wishes to educate himself further and have fun at the same time, especially with the camera. Then again, little did I know that this would be my last trip across the Atlantic ever. Also, the 9/11 disaster hadn't yet occurred. This catastrophe in 2001 would change Travel completely. It goes to show that I was very fortunate to have this window of opportunity, therefore, it was a wonderful privilege to board the transatlantic airline once again.

Approaching the Statue of Liberty, 1978.

View of Manhattan from the Statue of Liberty, 1978.

At the rooftop of the World Trade Center, 1978.

 World Trade Center, 1978 - Week 26.

The day of departure has finally arrived. This time, my neighbour didn't lift me to the station as he did the day before I took off to Singapore. Neither was there a need to spend the night in London. Since the flight was later in the day, I took a bus directly to Heathrow Airport from Bracknell. I arrived in good time to check-in.

The six-hour daytime flight to J.F. Kennedy Airport was smooth with hardly any turbulence. After landing, queuing up to pass through Passport Control, and claiming my rucksack, I went to the subway (underground railway). From the airport, I took a train to alight at 103rd Street Station - a long, pleasant ride directly to my destination from the airport without needing to change trains. Where 103rd Street intersects with Amsterdam Avenue was the hostel, a huge building. I entered to check in for my bed reservation. 

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Next Week: Life in New York.

To read about my visit to New York in 1978, click here.

To read about my visit to the World Trade Center, click here.