Part 2
That ‘c’ word: Cruising. I’ve hesitated to bring this up before, as it has so many cliches attached to it and so many opinions. For some, it’s entirely natural thing to do (both with same sex and mixed sex partners, (though it’s more usually called the delightfully downmarket term ‘dogging’ when heterosexuals are having sex en masse al fresco). For many, even quite a lot of gay men, it’s an activity that they cannot possibly fathom how anyone would or could consider doing. There are some similarities to the feelings people have on cottaging. On Switchboard we were not allowed to give out cruising locations, this having more to do with the legal implications of outdoor sexual activity rather than some (but certainly not all) members distaste for it. As I’ve mentioned it did come up as a subject in conversations on the phonelines there. If pushed on the subject, I usually did not pretend ‘it didn’t happen’ but mentioned the reasons why people needed to be careful if engaging in such activity. And certainly in some places it was a dangerous or risky thing to do, for a variety of reasons.
For myself? Well for years, decades even I didn’t venture onto the Heath to cruise (or anywhere else come to that, the location I mentioned earlier after Traffic spilled out on the Caledonian Rd was about the first time I’d ventured into that world), indeed for many years I didn’t know even where to go, as I would venture up there to the Heath for a simple walk and see nothing remotely salacious going on. Then one day I realised the Heath has many different areas and different ‘sides’ to it as well, it is used for very many purposes by different groups of people. It started by recognising that many gay men went swimming in the mens’ bathing pond on the East Heath. In summer, on a good day, the paddock outside would be nose to tail with men on their own, in couples or groups having picnics, sunbathing, generally taking the air. It was all pretty obvious. For some time having found that I assumed that was it, what I’d heard all about. Oh, I was so very, very wrong.
One day I realised, looking more carefully at the London A-Z map, that there was a whole area I had never even visited, in the decade I’d been going up to the Health, simply for recreation. In fact, for a time there were two separate areas that were cruised by men on the Heath, one on the east side, close to a large house and overgrown tennis courts off the main road, which was often quite busy in an afternoon and early evening. But when the house was renovated and restored and a lot of the undergrowth and overgrown vegetation chopped back, around the mid nineties, this mostly ceased. This was sometimes known as the ‘second secret garden’ (for reasons I’ll now divulge).
There was another area completely, on the west side of Hampstead Heath, consisting of an overgrown old hospital with a large pergola, ornamental pools and other ornamentation. This area was also very popular at one stage but again it was renovated by the council in the late 90’s, who actually made a very good job of it. It’s really worth a trip up to the Heath to see it alone.. it’s called the ‘Hill Garden’ and is basically a raised walkway, with many mature vines and roses, set amidst some wonderfully dramatic gardens and ponds.
I discovered, upon browsing a little, that it actually has quite a history attached to it. In 1904 Lord Leverhulme, who was both a rather wealthy philanthropist and a great lover of landscape gardening, purchased a large house built in 1895, on the West Heath called ‘The Hill’. He bought further land attached to it in the following few years and landscaped it with the pergola; extending it further in 1911 and 1925. He held extravagant Edwardian garden parties with friends, able to spend long summer evenings there in what became quite spectacular gardens. However, it fell into a decline with no one to care for it after his death in 1925. It was then bought and renamed Inverforth House by Andrew Weir, alias Baron Inverforth and then on his death it became a Orthopaedic Society Hospital from 1956 but little was done after this, to maintain the pergola area, although the gardens in the front and back of the house facade were maintained. It became overgrown and disused, and the hospital itself closed in the mid eighties.
For many years it was possible to access the pergola walkway (and house grounds) from the part of Hampstead West Heath below it, however, and it became known by many as ‘the Secret Garden’ until the House was converted into luxury apartments in the mid 1990’s and the pergola area was bought by the City of London Corporation and (it must be said very beautifully) restored, for all to use, in the mid 1990’s. The house was grade II listed in 1988. For all intents and purposes, this was a very popular part of the ‘cruising ground’ at Hampstead for many years as a result, in the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s in particular. Not surprisingly, the Wikipedia entry online about the house and gardens makes absolutely no mention of its notoriety for this purpose.
It’s not something I’d done for years, after I finally moved away from London early in 2003, but looking online recently I was surprised to see quite a lot of information about cruising there. There was even a map showing various areas and activities. Well, we certainly didn’t have THAT in my day! One entry was factual and direct. Hampstead Heath, it said.
Hampstead Heath is one of the busiest and most popular cruising areas in London, if not the world. It is also the safest cruising ground of London. The Police knows what goes on and (sic) is happy to close their eyes as long as cruisers don’t annoy the locals too much. The locals also know it and don’t venture on there after dark. The cruising area is located just up the hill from Hampstead Tube Station, which is part of the Northern Line. The Main entrance onto the Gay West Heath is from behind the ‘Jack Straws Castle’.
I am not sure if it is all quite as laissez faire as the entry makes out but I guess it’s broadly accurate. Another article I found online though, on the Vice UK website by James Greig, from June 2019 was very much more thoughtful, indeed, provocative. Why do people still go Cruising ‘it was headed. The byliner said ‘As cruising spots in London are under threat and apps have made casual hook-ups more convenient, what role does going outside in search of sex play in queer lives today?
So he had decided to go to the Heath and talk with men cruising up there about what they wanted and hoped to find, indeed why they still did it in the age of ‘Grindr’ et al (the gay dating app).
Men he met there explained that they found the adrenaline rush better when cruising outside and likened using apps like Grindr to ‘ordering a pizza’. You usually knew what flavours you liked and looked to order the same again. Outside, there was the possibility of experimenting with ‘different flavours’ and being surprised by your expanded boundaries (my analogy, not theirs). He wrote a thought provoking article about their honest responses and finished with this:
‘Cruising isn’t just a response to repression that will disappear if or when that repression does (as I discovered, you’d have to go back pretty far in history for cruising to considered a “necessity”). It offers a fundamentally different sexual experience, which many still find appealing. As George Michael told us 21 years ago, there’s no shame in being done with the sofa, the hall and kitchen table, and going outside in search of sex. In fact, it’s something we should celebrate‘.
This was interesting for me, as it rang true to experiences that I’d had there, decades before. Once I had started exploring this sub culture a little more I realised that it wasn’t seedy in a way I’d expected at all, in fact there were many occasions when it was quite a beautiful experience.
Whilst the place did have its unwritten rules, codes and conduct, that the men there generally understood, as on the canal towpath I had stumbled upon some years earlier, to go there was to experience an entirely transgressive culture: the signs, signals and senses displayed were completely different to those in the ‘other world’. Sometimes, going there was more akin to stepping through the looking glass, into another parallel world. Light and shade became important, thickets and glades had different uses, noises, sounds suddenly became charged, imbued with meaning. Language was less important, gestures held meaning, the male gaze was imbued with many different perceptions of desire; there were couples, groups, observers, voyeurs, individuals. Of course there were people who just wanted to get there, get off and go. All of the complexity of human desire was up there though, on display. Some would chat first , some would chat after, some wanted to meet up again, some wanted to have a relationship. In fact, a number of the most intense relationships I’ve ever had in my life started up there, on the Heath.
The state of mind you went up there with also changed the experience. Feel too needy, look too desperate and people would back away. Feel calm, content, happy and people would want to share some of that with you.
Daytime sex and night time sex there were often quite different experiences. In the light you could make eye contact from a distance, sense what was wanted, what was on offer, clues were given and instincts followed. Night time sex up there was a different matter. Often it was so dark you couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of you. Really you had no idea who you were walking into. But there were things; sounds: lightly trodden sticks or heavily trodden, heavy breathing or soft, smells: cigarette smoke, a lighter, after shave, sweat? Speed too .. standing silent, moving quickly ? Height.. taller or shorter? Just one person or a couple, or even a crowd? I used to find that dusk was a perfect time, an interim period where you often utilised both daytime & night time senses. Night time was generally more difficult though, sometimes you just had to trust your instincts.
One fairly clear, warm, summer, moonlit night in late June I recall vividly still, decades later. Moonlight was always useful, as it offered up a version of those daytime clues. This was a particularly bright moon too, enabling, when your eyes were completely accustomed, a depth of field far greater than on most nights. But there was still some cloud about, so every so often it would darken. It had been a gloriously hot day and the ground was still warm. The brick walls of the Hill Garden were still radiating back some heat from the days’ strong sun, as was the earth, even the bark on the trees. It was still and quiet though, just some birds rustling in their nests, an owl hooting, maybe a vole or field mouse going about its business. You came down a hill from the main road by the pond at Jack Straws Castle, up from Hampstead Village, (a famous pub) then there was a well worn, probably old cart track, you could walk along, paths leading off it, trees overhanging it on either side.
As I came down the hill and forked right on the worn track, the moon went behind a thicker cloud and it suddenly went dark. I had started to walk along the track, reflecting that I could have been blindfolded but still know where to go, ahead I could see little but a few cigarettes being drawn on. Suddenly the full moon came out again and it seemed to grow very bright. I started, almost gasped, astonished for I could see the path ahead was lined with men standing there, watching, waiting. As I walked through them on the track I realised that there must be hundreds of men down here: all quiet, still. The thought went through my head that there must be more men up here on the Heath tonight than at ‘Heaven’, the big megadisco in London’s centre at Charing Cross.
I could see there were many moonlit silhouettes: figures in all forms of dress, some of partial undress. The scene had an absolute beauty to it, which was many things: erotic, charged with sexual tension, and something primeval about it, even faintly dangerous, yet sublimely reassuring at the same time. All these strangers experiencing, sharing this intimate moment together, in the middle of the cosmopolitan metropolis of London. It was midnight, I was surrounded by strangers and yet I had never felt more intimacy with, never felt more .. well, love is the only word I can come up with that does it justice, for my fellow man. It was very, very special. And we all knew it was special: no one wanted to talk and break the spell. Truly, it was a midsummer night’s dream.
And if it offered up so many possibilities? And how could it be wrong, when it had offered up an experience like Mike? Mike: who broke my heart, and then stitched it back together again.
Buster
Stand on the shore for me, back arched, still tall
Kiss me, shake sand in my face: you never tire!
Hold me back down, ’till I choke with desire
Wear me forever, until you tire of this life.
You don’t know it but this is the most erotic moment.
You can’t be sure now, yet this is the strongest you will ever feel.
You’ll never understand: this is the perfect deal.
A deal I’ll remember forever, till I tire of my life.
You lay down and died for me: gave chase to my sticks
Rolled over and cried for me, closed those bright eyes
Ran away and flew with me: what we had needed no lies
Now: walk away into the sun with me, until we tire of this life!
I didn’t expect it to go all the way,
I couldn’t recall this had ever happened before,
I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do, wanting more.
Remembering us forever: till the end of this life.
Sit up and beg for me: look at me, hard,
Run away and away from me, until you’re small as fly
Now closer and close to me: so close that I’ll cry
Hug me and hold me: let’s live life this way.
We diced with love, gave in to its charms
We both knew the questions but the answers were wrong
We played around hard but we played for too long
I posted you letters. But you didn’t respond.
Wiseman, 19 March
So yes, I understand if you find the whole idea of such cruising strange, even a tad repugnant. But it was one of those things I just fell in love with. And they are the best, still in my mind taking me to a world away from the here and now, providing a memory within me so deep, so rich, so vivid, that I can close my eyes and still go back there now. And so I do- and then I sigh a little for things past, and feel a little sad, before remembering I need to be thanking someone for allowing me to be there at all, to experience such magical nights. And remember that some of us didn’t get to have that luxury.
2.27 ”Sex Love and Life” the project