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| The MBTA ferry docked in Hingham,MA |
Domestic air travel in the United States this year has become, ummm, shi …, nope won’t say it. Let’s just say that it’s become an expensive, unpleasant and very uncomfortable way of bookending any trip. I’m certainly not old enough to have experienced the pleasures of having walked up a staircase, welcomed into a gleaming new aircraft by designer-clad and remarkably skinny, uniformly white staff resembling residents of Stepford in a pillbox hat, and handed a cocktail in an actual glass while placing my fedora in the ample storage space above my luxurious seat in a two-by-two row. If that was the “Jet Age”, this is something quite different. We get to wait alongside throngs of equally grimy fellow travelers wolfing down fast food while waiting for our non-egalitarian group to be called by a barely audible announcement so we can sit in an inadequately air conditioned over-crowded aluminum tube for three hours before even leaving the gate while praying that we’ll make our connection to the next flight. To be fair, my experience over the last few years usually includes a cabin crew doing their best to ameliorate the circumstances. Thankfully, my standards have sunk commensurably with the experience and I muddle through it all with good books and a prodigious ability to nap on demand while sitting bolt upright and strapped to a chair.
There is something I do that successfully mitigates the damaging
effects of air travel on my mind, body, and spirit. It works like magic, never
failing to snap me into a low blood pressure relaxed reverie and
positive-minded contemplative nature. When flying back East to Boston for
whatever reason, personal or professional, after deplaning and collecting my
baggage, I get on the bus that transports travelers between terminals and then exit
the vehicle at … wait for it … the ferry terminal. With luck I have enough time
to stand still on the wharf for a few moments, breathe the sea air, feel the
wind in my face, and gaze absent-mindedly across the sailboat-filled harbor at
downtown Boston. And then I get on a boat.
Boston’s Logan International Airport sits at the at the end
of a long, narrow peninsula immediately across the harbor from downtown, and it
is surrounded by little islands. The Boston Harbor Islands National and State
Park includes an amazing number of stunningly gorgeous and remarkably
interesting spots to explore in a way that feels quite removed from the urban
hustle and bustle. It’s far too easy to visit Boston and not have the seafaring
life of the city as part of your experience or to rush off to Cape Cod’s
celebrated and very busy beach towns without seeing these close-by gems. I
can’t recommend visiting the harbor islands enough (https://www.bostonharborislands.org/).
Yeah, yeah; sorry about that. I promise, I am not about to
recite “Sea Fever” by John Masefield (although I could, just to make my ninth
grade English teacher happy). When I’m able to plan my travel so I can take the
Massachusetts Bay Transit Authority ferry from Logan to the little port town
not far from where my parents live, it works every time. I immediately feel as
though I am on vacation. While waiting for the ferry, I even sometimes get to
watch the seagulls catch clams, fly high up and drop their prey onto the ferry
docks to crack them open for easier dining. The place is littered with clam
shells like some seagull’s fantasy Las Vegas buffet, all right underneath the many
unsuspecting flights coming and going from the busy airport.
I can’t quite explain why it is that traveling by boat is
such a compelling and relaxing way to transit from one place to another, and it
most certainly is the antidote to the current challenges of domestic air
travel. It’s quite different from paddle boarding or canoeing on a river, it’s
certainly not a cruise, and why isn’t important. Take the ferry to Nantucket
rather than fly; take the mail boat from Portland to visit friends on the
islands of Casco Bay; from Greenwich Harbor to the islands in Long Island Sound
for a picnic with a view of Manhattan; or from Seattle to Whidby Island for
dinner at your favorite seafood restaurant. Watch the commercial fishing boats
or pleasure craft float by as the people on board waive and, abracadabra, that
little bit of transit becomes a calming, restful nugget of vacation in a
way unlike anything else can achieve. The people on passing boats do waive in a
way that is a noteworthy distinction from the drivers in Boston traffic who
flip the bird or just cut off other vehicles while listening to the talk radio
shows that make them angry at the world while speeding ever faster. Maybe those
people just need a slow trip on a sturdy vessel to relax a bit (https://www.timeout.com/boston/news/boston-drivers-ranked-worst-in-the-nation-for-the-10th-consecutive-year-062625).
I for one will remain happy on the slow boat.
I’m genuinely grateful to be out of the shoulder season doldrums
and into a busy summer season even though I am up to the gunnels in work.
Still, if the Hades-hot weather forecast proves to be correct here in the
landlocked middle of the continent, I will eagerly anticipate the joys of a
long walk off a short pier and into some cool mountain water. Followed by an
ice cream sandwich in the shade of a big tree. Because it’s summer, and these
things are important to keep me on the right tack all season long. I will look
forward to my next travel plans that can include the gentle rocking of a boat
in the harbor, the salt spray, and the wind in my face, and I feel better just
thinking about it.
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| Typical fisherman's shack near the Nantucket ferry terminal |
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| View of downtown Boston from Logan International Airport |
