Boston 42:21N 71:03W

Millybrown
Mark Hillmann
Sat 18 Oct 2008 04:14
It is not just Maine has lobster pot buoys, but Massachusetts as well.  We caught a second one just outside Boston, motoring into the sun as the breeze faded.  It stopped our engine with a bang, so I felt no compunction in cutting the down rope.  Unfortunately I said that as long as we could find a mooring, we could sail on to it and get the buoy off later. 
 
So the breeze got up, we found a couple of moorings in a tightly packed fleet, but took about seven tries to catch one.  The first mooring we got but the pick-up rope was broken and for the first few attempts I could neither hold it nor thread another rope.  The second was difficult, but we got it, I announced it was no good but had put our own rope on to it. 
 
 It was worth it:  Look at the position, right in front of the city centre.  We were on a sailing club mooring.  The next day Murrel and I walked round the older parts of Boston and when I got back, the boat had been moved to another mooring.  These moorings had not been checked, but they had seen the pot and did not charge for the first night.  Thank you.
 
 Round Boston we spent a little while following a tour party and listening to their guide.  Her stories of the start of the American war of independence, the Boston tea party, Lexington and Concord were not intended for the general public, but we chatted with her Northern Irish tour party, so she could not easily tell us to go away.
 
 
 
 
 
 After lunch we went to the Institute of Contemporary Art, the elegant glass building on the left.  On the right is the old swing bridge, rusty and half derelict, with the little pitched roof building on associated piling, more than half derelict.  This is right in the centre of Boston, with millionaire yachts parked 100 yards away.
 
 Colin Rowcroft, who came on the first leg of this trip, is a Cumbrian bridge engineer.  Many American bridges are far below the standard he would approve.  Private affluence but public squalor. 
 
 That evening after Murrel had gone for her return flight I sailed round the airport.  $60 seemed too much for just a mooring, and there were spare ones over here, so here is the same skyline at sunset. 
 
It was a bit noisier as they divert the jets at night to give Boston some peace, but I could not hear when I was asleep.