No, this isn’t actually about the song. It’s about the inspiration for the song; namely the Charles River. The Charles, famed far and wide as “that dirty water” is actually a beautiful river, for most of its length. Not that I’d recommend drinking from it, or swimming in it, though the latter’s tempting, sometimes. And, I’ve known one person who did so, regularly. But, he was nuts.
On the other hand, it’s not as dirty as one might imagine, from the song. The fish populations are thriving, as testified to by the fact that we now have herons plying it’s waters, once again. I’ve personally seen both Black-Crowned Night Herons (I think) and Great Blue Herons fishing in the Charles. Or, just taking a break from fishing. One of which was perched on the railing of the Moody St bridge in Waltham, of all places! (If you don’t know Waltham, Moody St is one of the busiest commercial streets in suburban Boston.)
And, it really is beautiful. The reason I bring it up is because I’ve just come back from spending some quality time there. I live about half a mile from the Charles, where it passes through the center of Watertown (hence the name). That’s about 5 miles from the heart of Boston. I went rollerblading, this afternoon, and decided to visit the river. This is not a decision to be made lightly, mind you. If it were, I’d go there every time I go rollerblading. But, being a river, the Charles has its own valley. Not a tortuously steep one, but substantial, nonetheless, to a rollerblader. I live at the top of one side of the valley. Getting there is easy. Getting back means planning and saving one’s energy, if one doesn’t wish to crawl up the hill. (This one doesn’t.)
But, back to the river, itself. The state, in a rare burst of wisdom, recognized, a few years ago, that the Charles was, in fact, an asset to the community. But, they also recognized that recreational opportunities on the Charles were severely limited, outside of downtown Boston. If one had a boat of some sort, there were places one could put it into the river, bearing in mind that some parts aren’t navigable by anything without fins. But, that was pretty much the extent of it. Oh, sure, there were a few places one could fish from, but eating anything caught there still isn’t recommended, for most stretches of the river. Beyond that, nothing.
But, as a result of the aforementioned epiphany, we now have several miles of “bike paths” along the river. Watertown was somehow blessed with paths on both sides. The goal is to, eventually, link them up, so that one can walk/bike/blade from Boston out to about 12 miles from the start of the paths. (That would be at the Esplanade, site of the nationally televised Boston Pops Fourth of July Concert.) Very cool idea.
Not many people seem to take advantage of it, though. Where I went today, I covered a portion of the trail that probably runs a little over a mile. I covered it in both directions, because it runs away from my house, more or less. I saw less than ten other people on the trail. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It was very peaceful, without a lot of people.
What amazes me, every time I go there, is how isolated it feels. There are parts of this particular section of trail that are probably a quarter mile from the nearest street. On the other bank, there is a wall of greenery between the river and the houses bordering the street beyond. One of the really nice touches they added is a handful of decks and benches where one can just sit and enjoy the surroundings. I took advantage of one of them, and sat and stood there for quite a while.
If it weren’t for the kids yelling and playing in the public pool a little ways down the other bank, it would have been impossible to tell, by listening, that the city was so close. It was almost impossible to tell by looking, as well. There were a few patches showing through the greenery across the river, which I know were houses. But, I couldn’t see more than bits of them. I watched a muskrat swim past, heading downriver. I saw a turtle, the size of a dinner plate, surface. It was too far away to see clearly, but that must have been a snapper. Our other turtles don’t get that big. I heard bullfrogs chugarumming. I didn’t see any goldfinches, this time, but I did see my old buddies, the Red-Winged Blackbirds. And, I certainly heard them. Thrushes, and swallows dipping and skimming. Fish popping bugs off the surface, and even leaping. Very, very cool. I’ve got to get down there, more often.