Start at Pier 3, where the crane that once unloaded bananas now holds a string of festoon lights. The sign still says "Marine Terminal — Authorized Personnel Only." Nobody has enforced it since 2019.
Walk east and the city's industrial past peels away in layers: the spice warehouse that became a ceramics studio, the icehouse that became a climbing gym, the tugboat mooring that became a swimming dock with a genuinely excellent hot-dog stand.
At Block 9, the port authority fence begins again. Beyond it, the working harbor — the part that still employs people. The contrast is the point: the waterfront is not one story. It is twelve.
Bring good shoes and an open mind. The last block is uphill.