Antiques and Oddities and Rage at Rayon

On Saturday I finally had a day to myself and one where every hour didn't mean an inch or two of rain. The sky was heavy with thick charcoal clouds threatening to dump a few more bucketfuls but was seemingly unable to as a powerful air flow buffeted them across the sky. I'm guessing those clouds were like us humans in a strong wind, clutching our coats and scarves around us as we struggle to move forward and stay in one piece. It seemed there was a battle raging above between the winds and the clouds, who were too occupied in keeping themselves whole than worry about dropping a deluge of rain.
I drove down to Verona, VA, a rather nondescript little town seemingly comprising of sprawls of strip malls. But off the main road was a huge antiques mall, apparently the largest in America, and supposedly still growing. Yet if I hadn't been told of this place by a friend I would have passed through the town not knowing that it existed. I didn't see a single sign, placard or banner proudly advertising the mall as I approached on Rte 11. There was nothing to herald its existence, not even as I entered the parking lot.

 But it was quite busy inside. A large group of staff in yellow t-shirts were by the registers and people were flocking from the fast filling car park into the building. And it was vast. I stood for a while looking to the left and right and forward, trying to work out a route, but finally resigning to the fact that I might have a problem finding my way back out. If I'd had breadcrumbs or a ball of string, I would have laid a trail to follow back later. So I simply turned left and started looking, unable to concentrate as I was overwhelmed with the massive quantities of 'stuff'. It was everywhere, on shelves, on walls, the floor and ceiling. Everywhere I looked was stuff. I just walked slowly until I could start to focus on individual items.

There were certainly plenty of vendors here that were very specific in their collections and likely attracted fans obsessed with their wares. Some had shelves of nothing but Tupperware, something my mother had ardently collected and raved about. Not so much now, and I've never been interested in it. Some spaces here were a shrine to the 50's or 60's while others held rows of old soda bottles and household tins.

 Delicious aromas wafted towards me as I studied some old prints and I realized that I was starving. A tiny cafe called Tasty Bites was around the corner and for under $7 I was served a TBS, a tuna, bacon and spinach on rye sandwich, with chips and a bottle of water. As I sat munching happily on my tasty lunch, I observed a dolls stall opposite with a tiny old lady hunched behind her counter, 3 walls of dolls surrounded her, all perched on shelves or in boxes, staring ahead with unblinking glass eyes. I thought they were a little creepy and noticed also that not one shopper stopped to look at her wares. Whether young or old, nobody took any interest and I felt sad for the old lady, who must surely be realizing that dolls are not sought after in today's world.

 I walked past these shelves piled high with glass quite quickly. I felt quite nervous at being close to such mountainous stacks of glass plates and drink ware, the shelves loaded so heavily that it seemed just one tiny tap would being the whole display crashing loudly and spectacularly to the floor. I couldn't even bring myself to get close enough to check the prices, it was far too intimidating to me.

 There was plenty of Christmas paraphernalia, decorations and Santas galore, but these cotton reels took my eye. Intricately carved and painted, I thought they were uniquely clever, but I didn't buy one.

 I had actually come here with a shopping list. Fully expecting to see a large collection of furniture I was disappointed to see very little. I've been looking for a gossip chair, or pew, a metal box locker with 5 compartments and possibly a queen bed. I only saw a couple of options for the latter and none whatsoever for the seating or locker. This place contained mainly housewares, ornaments and display stuff, but very little furniture. I'd also been looking for a metal bread bin or similar to put on my front porch for the mailman to put packages into, but the only one I saw was $135. Stuff that.

After exploring the warehouse I came to the conclusion that this isn't really an antiques mall, it's more of an indoor flea market. There were some antiques for sure but there were also plenty of junk items, and also a lot of the new 'primitive' or 'folk art' decor, which I actually like, but can no way consider as antiques. Upon closer inspection there were also a lot of items which were brand new but had been aged to look antique.

 After trawling up and down the aisles, gawping in every corner and digging into boxes, I only came across one item that I loved, but couldn't have. This portrait of someone's pet cat was adorable but with a $300 price tag it was well out of my reach. So instead I bought an amber glass lens from a traffic light for $5. Something unusual that not everyone has, (or necessarily wants...), and it will throw a nice light into one of the rooms when placed in the window. I found the exit and left after a surprised member of staff lamenting that I'd only spent $5 and asking me twice, "Is this all?" Obviously folks part with a lot of money in this mall. Not me.

 I drove back towards home taking the country back roads. I was surprised that the rain had held off. The sun was now shining but those dark clouds were persistently hanging above me, so dark that I found myself driving on roads that were one minute lit with bright sunshine and then suddenly thrown into such dark gloominess that it seemed night was approaching. I couldn't wear my sunglasses because of the constant changes in light but it made for some interesting photos. 

I passed almost no traffic on these gravel back roads so was able to drive slowly and enjoy the scenery. I spotted the Endless Caverns sign, Shenandoah's equivalent to the Hollywood sign, in the distance. The cloud shadows became darker as the afternoon progressed and my final photo was of the tower next to Luray Caves, lit up by the last rays of the sun before finally succumbing to colorless dusk.

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 On Sunday after I'd finished grocery shopping for my Christmas dinner I decided to explore a few of the backstreets of Front Royal. As an urbexer I'd heard much about the now demolished site of the old rayon factory in Front Royal. It had caused immeasurable pollution on the people of the town and also the water supply so it was a celebration when it was finally closed down in 1989, a clean up operation beginning immediately that will continue for many years. So I was amazed when as I drove down a back street near the river I came across remains of the plant.

 The old administration building still stands and has been beautifully restored. I drove in and parked at the back then walked over to a gentleman who was entering one of the back doors. I asked if any of the rayon factory had been preserved at all or was on show somewhere in town. He said no. I was initially a little surprised as the plant had provided so much of the town with work for a long time, but on reflection, the town likely wanted no reminders of an industry that had caused so much damage to its workers and the surrounding environment. All that remains is this building. He let me inside to have a look around but it wasn't interesting. Having been built in the 1930s I had hoped for more ornate moldings on the ceiling or some interesting light fittings but there were none.

A stone with a metal plaque stood out front honoring those factory workers who had lost their lives in WWII. I'm actually amazed that this last remaining building has been left to stand and has evidently been cared for. After reading this horrific report on the contamination and those responsible for it, including NASA, I would have thought the town would have insisted that no trace remain of the plant whatsoever, but it seems this building will remain, with the company's name carved into the stone front. There's even a Viscose Avenue in town which runs parallel with Main Street...
I then drove down to the boat ramp on the Shenandoah. This is about a mile from my house and as I approached I remembered visiting here a couple of years ago to determine its viability as a putting in point for Big Red. It looked very different today, in fact the ramp wasn't visible. The road under the bridge was flooded but I could see a car parked on the other side so I drove through, feeling the water pushing against my tires.

 A couple of locals were sitting here with fishing lines cast into the fast flowing current. They sat high up on the bank, smoking and acting so casual it was evident they'd done this a few times before. I started chatting to them and they pointed out where I had parked the last time I came, which was now a good 3ft under water. They reckoned the Shenandoah was currently 6ft in the middle, where usually a person could stand with the water at chest height. They said they'd once seen a cow floating downriver during a previous storm, and another time in the summer, an unconscious drunk girl had floated down in her canoe and nosed into the bank where a park ranger was waiting who had kicked the side of her boat to get her attention. It all happens in Front Royal. The couple had once caught a15lb bass right by the underwater bench in the center of the photo below. I was enjoying their tales and could have happily sat with them all afternoon, but I kept looking at the water rushing across the road and didn't want to be caught on this side of the bridge. Dusk would soon be approaching and I was ready to go home. I'm sure I'll see and hear about more adventures in this quirky town!