Boston swells with August heat, stuffing narrow canyons of glass and steel with transparent heat waves radiating off the gritty pavement. Tight city spaces are crammed with steel skeletons, as soaring cranes dangle “I” beams high above the street. Deafening blasts of construction noise war with the roaring street traffic below, while hard hatted workers force the towers of big business higher into the inferno.




We’re off on the fast ferry to Ptown and good riddance to the sizzling summer in Boston. Here are a bunch of boy friends on their way to the Gay capital of New England.





The fast ferry cuts a foaming path through Boston Harbor and then across Massachusetts Bay as it skims over the blue-black water. Bow blades slice the waves apart throwing spray, shattering light, and making rainbow wings that fly through the morning air.





This cute couple is drinking in the view at the bow of the boat. The guy on the right spoke with an attractive accent and his hunky body was easy to look at. His boy friend wasn’t half bad either—very winning smiles on both of them. When the ferry clears the dock in Boston Harbor it cranks up speed and actually rises in the water, shooting over the waves and creating a great rush of cool wind that immediately lifts your spirit.


The granite hard tower, known as the Pilgrim monument, is the May Pole of Ptown. This ubiquitous landmark with all of its unintended pagan implications is Chutzpa incarnate. The erect tower marks the first coming of the Pilgrims, an event that shoots way beyond that distant time right into this steamy summer and has spawned countless generations of revelers over the years.

The architect was Willard Sears and his marvelously incongruous design references the late medieval tower, Torre del Mangia, in Siena, Italy. President Theodore Roosevelt laid the cornerstone in 1907 and President William Howard Taft dedicated the tower in 1910. Standing 252 feet tall, it is easily seen from all over town and far out to sea.

It seems like the farthest thing from the Puritan fathers and their dames who would certainly recoil at the antics regularly performed in the bedrooms of the town at the base of their memorial.



Greeting all travelers to Ptown are these weathered faces of the Mothers of Courage reminding us that this town is more than cotton candy and half remembered kisses.
 
“The installation of five larger-than-life black and white photographs of Provincetown women of Portuguese descent, mounted on a building at the end of Fisherman’s Wharf in Provincetown Harbor, is conceived as a tribute to the Portuguese community and its fishing heritage.

Norma Holt's photographs of Almeda Segura, Eva Silva, Mary Jason, Bea Cabral and Frances Raymond, are meant to represent all of the women of Provincetown who over the years have been the backbone of this vital fishing village. They came from a long line of hard-working people, immigrating mostly from the Azores and mainland Portugal. Their families fished the waters off Cape Cod for over 200 years, built a major fish packing and distribution industry and made an important contribution to the history and culture of Provincetown” quote from: www.iamprovincetown.com

In reply to my inquiry about the funding for this project,  Donald Winter emailed me from San Miguel, Mexico where he spends his winters in a glamourous and beautiful historic adobe home that he and his late partner Richard Di Frummolo renovated. 

 Donald: " Indeed Richard Di Frummolo and Donald Winter were the guys who raised the money to bring the project to fruition. Richard especially, deserves recognition. When Norma took the pictures of the Portuguese wives and mothers, they were, of course , all alive. When we erected the photos two were living, then one, and now none. They were tough women who kept hearth and town alive while the men were at sea."

Iory's  note: 
Sadly Richard Di Frummolo is now also an angel. But I knew the guy and I can tell you that he's up there renovating  cloud places with impeccable taste and remarkable energy!




Two gay daddies pushing a stroller down Commercial Street in the shaded west end of town. I could actually hear Jr. gurgling with joy and delight as they went past me. Yes this is the hard won and happy phenomenon of our era and state, lesbian and gay married parents.



The flower draped cottage with the white picket fence, now doesn't’t this look like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? I wonder if this is where the gay daddies and Jr. were headed. Can’t you just picture the three of them enjoying domestic bliss here?



I always associate hydrangeas with Cape Cod especially this shade of washed out blue, like old worn blue jeans. This particular clump has gotta be the definitive example of the plant and boy, whatta beauty! The low stone wall is composed of smooth beach stones collected over time and lovingly arranged. It has a delightful homemade feeling. I know it’s old because it’s right down the street from Uncle Sam’s where I have camped out for thirty summers.

Ptown has more nature conservancy land in town, i.e. National Seashore Park, than honky tonk tourist resort or pissy elegant real estate shuffle. Not that the carnival crowds or steamy rolls in the hay aren’t the cat’s meow too. And I must admit I love nothing more than playing house but….

The great out-of-doors in Ptown is astoundingly beautiful, with dramatically varied terrain. Above is one of the readily accessible paths that wander through the pine woods leading to a surprising number of fresh water “kettle” ponds that are fed by the deep mysterious aquifer draining from New England’s mainland.
 
I usually start my day in Ptown with a bike ride, pedaling out past the beech forest on the paved bike trails which are a bit bumpy but otherwise a slice of heaven. These trails are criss-crossed by numerous paths into the calm and quiet woods where I like to walk.



The door of the market is plastered with all the posters of the moment. I am sure these will appear in the archives of MoMa under the heading “marginal ephemera from the sizzling shores of Gaydom”

This has got to be the cutest little shack in town and right now it’s for sale! I’ve always loved the place and over the years it’s been tastefully upgraded. This probably means that Sotheby’s is asking a million bucks for the joint but hey, I can dream.

I love the blue corn flowers or chicory that grow alongside the road, usually in the funkiest of places. It must be an S&M species because it apparently thrives on abuse.

There are many phenomena in Ptown and this is one of them, the bike rack at the head of the waking trail leading out to the boy’s beach at Herring Cove. There is really no bike rack per se but everybody chains up on the post and beam fence there. The trail, out-lined by yellow rope, goes over the salt marsh. This walk is spectacularly beautiful with wide open spaces looking out over the waving grasses that turn all shades of green when tussled by the wind.



This is the Long Point lighthouse at the finger tip of the reaching arm of Cape Cod as seen across the salt marsh with its waving grasses sparkling in the morning sun.



There are times when having a camera handy is a blessed gift and this was one of them! When I first spied this horse-man way out by the barrier beach I thought, oh there is a park ranger, and I snapped away thinking he may be an interesting aside for this article. Well, as my zoom lens began to focus on the vision before me I had to gasp at my luck to catch this astounding sight.
 
The man of all of our dreams came prancing on his handsome horse, zigzagging across the marsh. The high tide waters soaking the emerald green grass threw plumes of spray flying and he was headed directly toward me. From the angle I first saw him he appeared to be a naked centaur although as it turned out he was only stripped to the waist but that was more than enough to behold.



A great blue heron, fishing in the tide pools of the salt marsh was startled by the rider approaching, and seconds after I took this picture it rose on gigantic gray wings into the bright cerulean blue sky.

I brazenly followed the progress of the rider as the sun played over his buff torso, highlighting his silver-gray hair and the mahogany brown sweat-slicked coat of his mount. By this time he was well aware of my paparazzi intrusion into his solitary morning ride and his expression took on a stern glare making him if anything, more handsome. He rode past me at a brisk pace and disappeared over a low dune.



The eye of a photographer is fickle with so many distractions to capture the imagination. This guy was friendly enough to pause on his way out to the beach for an iconic pose. His sturdy youthfulness echoes the solid tower behind him in the distance.


The beach stones and moon shells of Herring Cove beach eventually grab everyone’s attention. I’ll bet we all have at least a small stash of these beauties at home tucked away as a reminder of our days on the boy’s beach.




And finally the barrier beach of Herring Cove where two men are enjoying a good gossip. I am a shameless eavesdropper and I was amused to catch some of the details here regarding last night’s conquests and the ones who got away. I am fascinated by the predatory nature of men, ever seeking the distant prize sparkling in the eye of a stranger.




With the flower of youth crowding Herring Cove, it is easy to miss the wild Rosa Rugosa growing in the hot sand dunes of the barrier beach. The sweet perfume of these flouncing blossoms mixes with the briny scent wafting off the ocean creating an appealing mix. Turning to find the source of this fragrance I am delighted to see the lush magenta color crowning the thorny bushes.

As the guys bake on the beach a schooner slips out to sea onto Cape Cod Bay. There are several ships in Ptown that offer sailing excursions both during the day and for sunset cruises. If you haven’t gone out on one of these peaceful journeys, do yourself a favor and go.

I was once out on the Hindu for a sunset cruise when we were approached by a whale. The captain tacked into the wind, a maneuver that slows forward progress by dropping the wind from the sails. As we sat becalmed in an eerie quiet, the whale swam almost within touching distance to the ship, apparently as curious about us as we were of it. The little darling was as big as the boat we were in—which added a healthy dose of respect for our ocean swimming cousins After some time the giant swam away and as a parting gesture, waved its gigantic tail fin and dove into the deep.




Two new friends enjoy an electric moment of meeting. From the start, their conversation is animated by gesture and body language that is loaded with excitement, as they struggle to appear cool in the sultry blast of the noonday sun.




The contrasts of the Province lands are extreme and glorious. Within a tiny town of barely eight square miles, approximately 32 miles off the mainland of Massachusetts, there is a unique environment that fosters individual expression like no other place around. Last week my husband, Leo, and I went for a visit. After tea dance as we walked down Commercial Street, the full moon rose blood-orange in a violet-lavender sky. Everyone around us stopped in their tracks and gazed with wonder at the beauty of it all.




Iory Allison is the author of the Glamour Galore Trilogy, a series of Gay Comedic novels set in and around Boston consisting of: The Family Jewels - a mystery, Naughty Astronautess – a farce staring the first drag queen astronaut, and The Mermaid and the Sailor- a romance set in Ptown. www.ioryallison.com available at www.calamusbooks.com  92-B South St. Boston.