Hosteling Years

I got into hostelling somewhat indirectly in my late teens. But let me first explain what hostelling is (or rather, was when I was active). The broad definition of hostelling is traveling under "your own steam" (usually biking or hiking) and staying at some (often - especially then), very primitive lodgings. The use of autos, other than to get to a hostel was prohibited. You left your car and took off on foot or by bicycle, ultimately returning to get your car to go home.

The concept was developed in Germany and the first hostels were there, as probably was the first hostelling association. Eventually the idea spread and hostelling associations started up in different countries. In the U.S.A. it was a formal organization but operated in a very informal way. At that time it was called "The American Youth Hostels." There was a central council (I believe in Washington D.C.), and there were local councils in large population centers. In New York the association owned a small building in Greenwich Village on 4th street.

Most of the work was done by volunteers. There was a small paid staff in the office, and a network of volunteers and (also volunteer) "trip leaders." I became a trip leader after a few years of regular membership. Membership consisted of subscribing, by paying your membership dues each year. You got a card which I believe had a photo ID with which came the privileges of membership. Those privileges included being able to travel on organized overnight trips, on bike or foot, as mentioned, and to stay overnights at a hostel.

Hostels were also mostly provided by volunteers, sometimes farmers, or others who owned property and a building they didn't mind letting (usually - but not always) young people stay at. Sometimes (but rarely) it was even a room in their house, particularly if they had a lot of kids that had grown up and gone. These type of house parents loved us and often invited us into their living rooms for a "social." (We probably filled the void in their "empty nest.")

The hostels in an area were set up to form a chain close enough so any reasonably healthy person could go from one to the next in a day. In my case this was by bicycle, so the distance was usually approximately 30 miles. At the time the use of automobiles to get between hostels in a chain was prohibited.

The rules were that you could arrive by car, but that you could not use the car once you were there. You had to leave the car and go off on your bike (or foot - if you were hiking). Of course you arranged the trip so you ended up at the place your car was originally parked at to go home. Many hostelling circuits were more or less circular for that reason. But often it was a practical to take public transportation to the region. Pennsylvania was an excellent place to take a train to and the Lancaster area was chock full of hostels. So was Cape Ann, Massachusetts.

A hostelling trip was well organized. Trip organization was the trip leaders' responsibility. It was also the leaders' responsibility to make out a budget and a trip plan. There was a fee for each trip to cover on the expenses such as food. All minors had to get parental permission and we knew their home addresses and phone numbers. By far hostelling was one of the cheapest way to travel. When I first started the overnight fee was fifty cents! Since we cooked for ourselves, this was travel on a shoestring.

If the group had more than about eight people then there was also a co-leader. In that case one of us led the group, and the other took up the rear. This way there was no chance of losing anybody unless they strayed off the planned path. To prevent this from happening, we made regular stops and everybody was accounted for before continuing. As I said, it was well organized. To be a leader you had to go to leadership training school, usually a week at a "training hostel."

When you arrived at a hostel you checked-in and the house parents collected all the membership passes. They thus could assert their power over unruly or destructive guests by withholding that person's pass. This was a very serious threat, because it meant that the individual was essentially expelled from the group. If someone became a serious problem a call was made to the parent(s) and they were told the situation and that they had to come and get their kid, or that the kid would be put on a train and to meet him or her back home. That is one reason all minors had to get written permission from their parents and that the parents signed a form that explained this possibility to them. The risks were also explained and leaders all had training in first-aid and carried a first aid kit. In case of more serious accidents, one of the leaders had to accompany the injured hosteller to the hospital and stay there until the person was released or safely returned home.

It was the job of the councils, central and local, to get people to volunteer their properties as hostels. As such some of them were very crude. One of my favorite hostels in Sheffield Massachusetts had no running water (there was a well with a bucket outside). Provided in the hostel however were cooking facilities; at least a stove, a place to prepare food, and tables to eat at. You provided your own food, either what you could bring along or buy in the area. A bike with side baskets was very useful to go shopping.

While most hostels were privately owned, there were a few that were owned and run by the councils. House parents were hired for these places although I think they were also volunteers. At one such place a leader friend of mine was the house parent, and such leader/house parents could sell membership passes. Up till then I had joined yearly but my friend Sol suggested I become a lifetime member. After all, he said, a house parent charged an additional 20% which he was willing to wave for me. So for $80 I became a lifetime member. That means I am still a member, although the organization has gone through so many changes I doubt I could identify and claim my membership today.

Hostels consisted of a cooking area and dormitory and sometimes a social hall which was usually part and parcel of the cooking area. The bunks were in dormitories and there were separate male and female facilities. The bunks were either in the same building or in a separate building. It depended on what the owners of the property had to offer. Bunks were usually double-deckers and in the beginning the mattress consisted of a bag filled with hay. You got one or two rough (usually army surplus) wool blankets. As a hosteller you were required to bring a sleep sack, not a sleeping bag which was too bulky to carry on a bike.

The owners and actual operators of the hostels were called "house parents" and it was their responsibility to see that all went well and there were no serious problems, both with the hostels, and with the visiting hostellers, although if the visitors were on and organized group trip there there were one or two leaders who were responsible for their group. But the house parents did make sure the leaders did their job. For example, damage to the hostel or the property was an issue the house parents monitored. If the group caused damage the council might be charged for it and the leader cited.

At the time there were some very primitive places. I remember one night when the house parents did not take into account the imbalance between the male and female hostellers. There were enough beds overall, but not enough in the male dorm. So the guys was asked to sleep in the barn on the floor. Mattresses were borrowed from the girls dorm. Directly next to us in the adjacent room were a bunch of farm animals. Perhaps a mule and some sheep and definitely a goat. The biggest problem was the goat, who insisted it was his right to kick the wall. That was a tough night.

Hostels varied in size from quite small (6-8 people) to very large - up to 100. The small ones were usually large private homes with extra bedrooms and the large ones were usually those built and owned by the councils. Examples of large hostels were the one on Martha's Vineyard and also the one on Nantucket Island off Boston, Massachusetts.


Martha's Vineyard Hostel on W. Tisbury Road - right in the middle of the island. Looks the same after 50 years as does the Nantucket hostel on the right.		Unique hostel at Nantucket - used to be a lifesaving station so it is right on the beach. I believe the ramp leading down was originally for the life saving boats to be pulled on.

In these cases each was the only hostel on the Island, but the island was easily covered in a day end to end or, in the case of Nantucket, all around. These were wonderful places because there were hardly and cars on the road, the passage requiring an expensive ferry ticket (especially Nantucket which was at least a one hour ferry ride). So mostly the private cars were locals who lived a laid back life and drove slowly and carefully.

Each hostel had something distinctive about it (if not only the resident house parent). At the Martha's Vineyard hostel, there was a tape machine with speakers in the dorms. The house parents awoke us gently every morning to the sound of Cat Stevens song "Morning is Waking." Now that was a wonderful way to get up! Those house parents were really a hip young couple.

When you checked out of a hostel, the house parent stamped your membership card, and each hostel had a unique stamp. I remember the Nantucket stamp was a whale. When you got your card pretty full, it was quite pretty with all those special stamps often in different colors.

Besides overnight extended trips, day rides were organized almost every weekend when I was active in the New York council. Depending on the group these rides ranged from easy (30 miles) to hard (70+ miles). I went on lots of those and most I went on were led by a particularly charismatic leader. He was a short black man named Mel, and he was a powerful rider. Usually a trip with Mel was moderate to hard. sometimes we went up (and down) some pretty big hills. Mel was part of the leadership committee in our council, and as a result of the numerous trips I went on with him, I did not have to go to leadership school. Mel's recommendation was all I needed to begin organizing and leading trips on my own.

At the time, I lived in Brooklyn, near Coney Island, which was about twenty five miles from the usual starting point of Mel's trips, which often started in the Bronx at Fordham Road at the Concourse. From there he knew safe and pleasant back roads into Westchester County above New York City. In order to make these trips I used to borrow my dad's car and take my bicycle to downtown Brooklyn and leave it at the home of Dan and Sophie Trupin. That was ten miles closer to the trip starting point. Then, very early in the morning on the day of the trip, I would get there by public transportation and sometimes with another cycling enthusiast named Nancy who lived in that building, start riding from there. Nancy and I would cycle across the Brooklyn Bridge up through Manhattan, including a totally illegal jaunt on the East River Drive (highway) and up into the Bronx. Thus we had already cycled fifteen miles before we started out with Mel.

Then, after a moderate to strenuous trip into Westchester, we would return not back home but to my uncle Ben Spaiser's house which was in Riverdale, just north of Manhattan. We would leave our bicycles there and take public transportation home. Later that week I would drive my dad's car to uncle Ben's and pick up the bikes. That was quite a bit of work for a simple day bicycle ride. But we did it. One time during the summer, when it was still quite light and Nancy was not with me, I decided to cycle back to downtown Brooklyn instead of going to Uncle Ben's place. I believe on that day I did one hundred miles - and that was on a 3-speed bike! (In those days Mel was one of the few people who had a light-weight 12 speed.)

Most of my social life revolved around those trips, including the one to a place called "La Ana" in Pennsylvania, where I met and started courting Norma Van Felix. Later she became my regular co-leader and we led many trips of up to two weeks duration together. Those were great days.

Mel also liked to lead week trips to the "Pennsylvania Dutch Country," which I have mentioned was very accessible from New York city by train. Our absolutely favorite hostel was the Bowmansville hostel in the heart of the "Penn Dutch Land." From there we did not have to do a circuit. We just stayed there and went on daily excursions in to different places. There are many interesting places and things to do in the Penn Dutch country.

One morning after breakfast and before leaving for the day we noticed a group of young kids from the city. These were inner city kids (on a special program for such children) and they were all standing around a cow. One of them looked amazed and said "wow." I asked him what was so exciting. He said, "Look, the milk is coming out that cow." I asked him where he thought milk came from. He said "From a bottle." Bringing inner city kids out there was really a wonderful thing.

If we were lucky we were there on Friday, the day they had the "Green Dragon" farmers' market. What a treat. It was huge with all kinds of local crafts for sale and absolutely wonderful local food.

By the way, the Pennsylvania Dutch people really liked us (as opposed to auto driving tourists). In particular these folks were divided into two main religious groups, the Mennonites and the Amish or "plain people." While the Mennonites were more worldly (the owned and drove cars, albeit always black cars), the Amish followed strict codes of virtue and simplicity. They were a lot like Quakers. And they absolutely did not own cars or even tractors. They only rode in horse drawn buggies, or, and this is why they liked us, they rode bicycles. And although Amish people did not socialize outside their clan, they always waved to us and us to them.

Another thing about the Amish - they considered it forbidden to take photos of them. Photos were deemed "graven images". Of course brash tourists did not respect this, but for all of my photographs I have never taken a picture of an Amish person. I believe in the sanctity of peoples beliefs, especially when they are so benevolent and I would not dishonor these fine people by breaking that rule.

One Amish farmer pretty much knew this (most hostellers were told not to take pictures of them) so between respecting them and riding only on bicycles we made friends with a few, at least roadside friends. One man made ice cream and we always stopped along his fence where he would serve us up cones of the most delicious homemade ice cream.

Of course you could also go hostelling by yourself or with one or two friends. My friend Henry (Hank) Feinberg and I once went there for a few days. Probably at the Green Dragon market we bought local headwear and got someone to take a picture of us (below).

When I moved to Massachusetts I thought it would be nice to continue that tradition so I found a local council in Brookline and got acquainted. Before too long I was leading trips in Massachusetts.

Eventually I singled out a particular route on which I led trips over and over again. I called it the Cape Ann Ramble. It was an easy day trip and we all met up in Cape Ann.

Cape Ann is a Peninsula with a single loop road all around it. I think we would start at the Rockport train station and and head one way or the other around the cape. Especially in those early days there were fabulous places to stop. Cape Ann is famous for it's granite quarries, Rockport being where most of the granite for the great buildings in the Northeastern cities came from. Some of these quarries were tiny and some were huge. Only one or two were still working, the rest were filled with water, some of the purest green water I have ever seen. Mostly it was drinking quality water since it was simply collected rainfall, the bottom and sides of the quarry being solid granite.

When we first started riding there, I told my trippers to bring bathing suits. I would then take them to the smaller quarries and everybody would change in the bushes and jump in. On a hot summer day this was just great and in one case we went far into the back roads to find a huge quarry.

To swim in this one, at least from the side we were on required an Olympic style dive. I didn't say anything but one of our bikers assured me she could do it. I questioned her thoroughly and was convinced she could. Anyway, this was not a formal trip, and the person was essentially on their own. She made a perfect dive and swam to a place she could get out.

By this time I was going out with (my future wife) Marilyn, and she came with me. On one trip a man of about 70 years old showed up. He was amazing. He rode with us and when we got to a quarry he stripped to his shorts and jumped in.

Later Marilyn and I found out he came from Framingham right near us so we invited him over. He was absolutely charming and had a fantastic outlook on life. He told us he had just lost his wife but he wasn't about to curl up and die. Instead he "made himself 30 years younger," got a bike and came out with us "kids." This man was truly an inspiration.

Cape Ann, along with the quarries, had some nice beaches. Sometimes we would go there even cycling on a concrete beachfront promenade around a half a mile long.

This was another paradise I enjoyed but eventually they put cyclone fences around all of those swim-able quarries. I guess there may have been accidents, or they just realized their liabilities. That was too bad, and eventually I stopped doing the Cape Ann Ramble. But I kept going to Rockport and Gloucester for years after.

2007 Update: It looks like the American Youth Hostelling Association has changed a great deal from my "good old days." No more hay sleep sacks and hand hauled well water. Some even have fancy beds with linen and bedspreads!

Bedroom at Littleton MA. hostel. No bags of hay here!