September 11, 2001

I was running a training course in Mahwah, New Jersey, about 10 miles north of Manhattan.  I stopped the class after lunch because no-one could concentrate on what I was teaching.  Driving back to my hotel, I crested a hill and could see Manhattan in the distance. The outlines of the mid-town buildings were clear enough, but I could not see the lower part due to the incredible pall of black smoke over everything.  I stopped to take some photos, along with a knot of other people. Suddenly, we heard the sound of jet engines overhead, and people began to cringe, look about wildly and dart off in all directions. It turned out to be an Air Force jet, heading for Manhattan.

On Saturday, September 15, I drove to Jersey City, intending to take the train into lower Manhattan.  I parked the car in the Courtyard Hotel garage (where I had stayed a few weeks ago) and took this shot across the Hudson River:

I then went into the railway station and noticed a lot of people wearing red, white and blue clothing:

Arriving at the other side, I walked along a side street and turned into West Street, whereupon I could see the ruins in the distance.  They were still smouldering inside, and thick white smoke was billowing out.

There were lots of other sight-seers, many taking photos; many handing out drinks and food to the rescue workers; many holding placards thanking and encouraging the emergency services. But everyone had a grim look about them; everyone was subdued. The only time there was any display of emotion, it was cheering and clapping each time an ambulance came away from the site, because it was assumed that they had rescued someone -- but they may have just been transporting body parts...

As I walked south along West street, I saw many things.  A sidewalk artist preparing his own tribute to the rescue workers:

A car rescued from under a pile of ash...

An abandoned fire hose, lying forgotten on the sidewalk...

The police and army were all working very hard and were very grim looking, but unfailingly polite to people. I was stopped by a soldier and asked for ID because they were suspicious that I was taking lots of photographs. Even he was almost apologetic about it!

I went into a small grocery store and watched as the proprietor tried to give some water to a dust-covered policeman for free. The policeman insisted on paying, commenting, "You need the money to live -- I get paid for what I do".  What was especially noble about his action was that he could have gotten water for free from the Red Cross tent outside:

In addition to the firefighters, police and paramedics, there were groups of people obviously intent on providing spiritual salvation by taking boxes of pamphlets about their religion to the beleaguered workers:

I climbed up to a pedestrian overpass where I found various messages scrawled in the dust.  There were many on the theme of "God bless America."  This one said, "God will send His avenging angels":

From this vantage point, I was able to see the so-called "Ground Zero".  The twisted girders rising from the rubble reminded me of some Dantean Stonehenge:

Having seen enough, I headed back to the railway station via a different street.  Along the way, I saw a policeman sleeping off his fatigue:

...and a patriotic welder doing a Statue of Liberty impersonation whenever an ambulance approached:

I saw many posters on poles and walls.  They ranged from the desperately sad missing person pleas:

...to the poignant reminder of the mayoral election that was supposed to have happened that day but was abandoned:

...and the fervently defiant, patriotic call for unity:

As I passed Jay Street, I was able to glimpse the wreckage from a different vantage point:

Near the train station, I found a street vendor selling commemorative t-shirts, one of which I bought.  Upon returning to the parking garage, I donned the shirt for a last photo: