Laughing and Lamenting in the Labs

On Monday I left work early to join Emily and Margie on an urbexing trip. We would have a few hours in the afternoon to explore an old hospital complex that had closed down in 1999. This was Margie's find, she had already scouted it out and led us directly to the point of access without us being seen. Not that it really bothered us, who would suspect three older ladies to be trespassing within fenced property? I would have been prepared to use my accent to its fullest extent or even turn on the waterworks if necessary, but to be honest, none of us were the slightest bit concerned.

I would have loved to have brought Elliott along but he's actively searching for a new job, and definitely doesn't need a trespassing ticket against him. Plus it was also nice to be just with Emily and Margie, girl explores are always fun, and having not spent much time with these two old friends lately, due to COVID, I was looking forward to this outing immensely.

The location is being kept private, because I know graffiti 'artists' and taggers check these pages to try and find new places to desecrate, but also because no others of our group have yet been here, we're the first. We will reveal the location at a later date to urbexing friends, but not before we've returned for one more trip to the actual hospital itself in the near future. Today we were checking out a peripheral building containing laboratories.

We walked straight through two huge doors hung with warning signs, porcelain berries draped over the opening and Virginia creepers climbed rampantly up the stone walls, a few tinged with red signalling autumn's imminent arrival. Inside was a crumbling, debris filled hallway, asbestos tiles having fallen and disintegrated over the decades of neglect. Thick layers of curling paint scrolled their way down to the floor while dark shadows filled the corners and recesses. We stood, letting our eyes get accustomed to the rapid change from the bright sun outside, and hauled our cameras from their bags.

I found myself drawn to shreds of curtains hanging lank against the windows, creating interesting shapes and shadows, the remnants of cloth that somehow still draped down from curtain poles, even after all these years. There was a stage with buckled wooden floors, but I really needed a tripod to photograph this room well, and none of us had brought one of those, choosing to leave the extra weight in the car. I've really become a lazy photographer, which Emily admitted to also, and yearn for the day when I can take all the photos I want with a small light camera, rather than the heavy Sony hanging around my aching neck. We peered backstage and then moved to a different part of the building.

Then we entered a section of the building that had once housed the labs. We spotted eroded signs for Hematology and Pathology on the corridor walls and lab doors. The walls were blistered with old paint, curls and tendrils of brittle layers hung down and littered the floor. We prised open a heavy metal door, revealing a cold storage room, and a bad acrid smell suddenly attacked our noses; I backed away quickly. Who knew when that door had last been opened and what had been stored within. It was a little alarming and we didn't linger.

Every lab had been emptied and cleared thoroughly, leaving only empty shelves and counter tops, only warning labels, danger posters and PPE wear instructions taped to the walls. Margie made us jump, suddenly crashing into a box, the noise deafening and causing us to stop and duck down. But no-one heard us. She later scared the life out of me when, after I had passed 3 locked doors, her shadow flitted dark behind a small pain of frosted glass of one of the doors. She'd found another entry to the lab, making me think we'd got company other than ourselves. My heart was thumping furiously as I crept around the corner to see who was in that room, letting my breath out audibly when I discovered Margie scuffling through the rubble.

And then she excelled herself. It was pretty warm inside the old building so we took off our fleeces and tied them around our waists. I looked up to see Margie's t-shirt, and was initially speechless. And then I erupted into a fit of laughter. She loves taxidermy, and has quite a few critters in her house, especially deers with large antlers. Her shirt displayed a buck's head displaying a good number of points and very large text which read, 'I LOVE BIG RACKS.' I could barely speak, I was giggling like crazy, and it took me a few minutes, between giggles, to explain her shirt's real meaning. and since she doesn't actually possess a 'big rack' herself, it was even funnier. As the truth dawned, her face was a picture, and I was bent over double, actually sobbing by now. If the floor hadn't been so filthy, I would have simply let myself collapse in a giggling heap. Emily entered the room, hearing the laughter, and joined in after spying the miscreant shirt. That afternoon I must have released a month's worth of endorphines with my laughter. Every few minutes I'd start giggling again. If I entered a room and Emily was there, I'd start again and so would she. Even now I'm giggling as I write this. I wonder if Margie will ever wear that shirt again, gotta love her!

We came across a lot of sanitizing equipment, huge lights drooping ominously over us in the gloomy rooms, and even saw a retro X-ray machine. I asked Margie, if I got up on the X-ray table, would she stand over me displaying her shirt. She declined, ha ha!

But then, after plodding along multiple corridors, checking behind every door, and inspecting inside old refrigeration units, we entered Hell. The hallway we were on had ended, with two identical, very dark corridors extending into blackness on each side of us. The ceiling was a lot lower here and the doors that silently hung out into the passageways resembled doors I'd seen in abandoned asylums. Small panes of heavy glass set in reinforced doors revealed small rooms, bare except for a small sink and countertop. There were strange viewing windows extending into each of the rooms from the hallway, or cells, as I saw them. Emily told us these were animal testing labs.

I only took these two photos, I couldn't bring myself to shoot any more, this place felt incredibly ominous. As we walked quietly from room to room, the pain and depression that these animals must have felt was almost tangible. Tears pricked at my eyes as I slowly trod the dark corridors, really not wanting to enter any of the 'cells', but forcing myself to look at just how repulsive humans can really be. There were also rooms within rooms, with heavy doors that once locked the occupants inside, where cages were likely kept, and even these interior rooms had many tiny peepholes set in the walls. Charts were still hanging outside the entrances, listing protocol numbers, investigator names, acceptable ranges of temperature, and the safety equipment to be worn upon entry. These poor animals lived in metal cages, never seeing daylight, and their only visitors were garbed in tyvek coveralls, masks and gloves, and sometimes respirators. No love in their lives, only misery. It made my stomach sick. Emily suspected one room we entered was a killing room. I was done. I didn't want to check the second corridor, it looked like more tombs of torment.

I was in a bit of a funk after that and to be honest didn't take any decent photos afterwards, except this one which I processed as greyscale, to suit my mood. We climbed another floor and found a Jacobs ladder leading to the roof. It felt wonderful to burst through the hatch and feel the warm sun on my head and shoulders, but I immediately thought of the poor animals below who had never experience this life's necessity, and felt a deep guilt at my enjoyment. We sat up there for a long while, and I felt the sun cleansing me from my sorrow. We laughed again at Margie's shirt, and decided a beer was now essential to finish the day. I was glad to leave this building. We'll be back to explore that hospital on the same grounds; I guess I'll have to brace myself for that trip...

 

Endlessly Engaging in the Shenandoah Valley

I took Tuesday off as a vacation day, planning on going to the Endless Caverns, a  six mile run of caves at the foot of the Massanutten Mountains, that I hadn't yet explored. Thinking there wouldn't be too many crowds immediately after the holiday weekend, I was looking forward to a day out and hopefully not running into hordes of people. The day was made extra special as I was joined by a new friend, Elliott, and throughout our journey we chatted incessantly. Arriving at the caves we were delighted to find that we were going to be the only people on the tour, how cool to have the whole caves to ourselves! We stood outside in the sun that was steadily heating up, with mosquitoes constantly bombarding me, and I was grateful to hear the announcement that we could proceed with our tour.

As we descended into darkness, the air was dank and cool, the metal handrail cold and clammy. We'd been warned to wear an extra layer, since down in the depths it was a constant 55 degrees, but throughout the tour I felt I could have gone without, especially since it was so humid. It was also very slippery. There were areas of thin matting that provided some grip but quite a few of the slopes were fairly steep and I was glad of the handrails. Throughout the tour I skidded three times on my heels but never fell so have to put it down to not being careful enough. I know I didn't spend enough time looking where I was putting my feet.

It took me a little while to get into the mood for taking photos. I was so happy to be out of the house, enjoying the company of other people and gazing at this natural wonder, that I simply wanted to just look, listen and savor the moment. but I knew dear Myra would be looking for a blog this week, and admittedly, after listening to Elliott's shutter snapping left, right and center, I felt like I was missing out and soon tugged off my lens cap and followed suit, picking up my pace.

Crappy photo, but it's a heart! Illuminated and glowing from within!

Our guide explained the airflow of the caverns, just in case we wandered off and got lost and needed to find our way out...useful. The cave air is usually a constant temperature of the region's average, in our case here in VA it's 55 degrees. So in winter when it's colder outside the air will flow into the caves. In summer when it's hotter outside the air will flow out. He flicked a lighter on to demonstrate and sure enough the flame bent towards the way we'd come in. Very enlightening, except I didn't have a lighter. Some of the passageways were very narrow and twisting around curves which was kind of thrilling. I would have loved it if he had let us roam on our own with just our phones as a light. He did get us to stop and stand completely silent, and we listened to... nothing. He then turned off all lights so we then saw... nothing. With just the three of us there it was magical. No other members of a group jangling coins in pockets or sniffing. This was complete and utter nothingness, a black empty damp void, which I found to be a really interesting place to be, and have to admit wishing we could have just stood there for a little longer. but then he had to go and spoil the mood and told us that you could go blind after six days in total blackness, although vision would eventually restore itself once subjected to light, and you could go mad. The brain doesn't know when to release melatonin so you will also be sleep deprived. One poor guy suffered big time after getting lost in some caves, click here.

These orange pustules are mounds of slowly dripped calcite, drops of acidic groundwater through the limestone rock, that will, an inch every hundred years, eventually become stalagmites. Throughout our tour I was aware of the constant dripping through the grey limestone ceilings, that had been rounded to such a smooth finish it was hard to believe they weren't covered by man with cement. As water seeps through the soil it mixes with carbon dioxide from decaying plant or animal matter, forming carbonic acid. This acid dissolves the rock minerals and gravity pulls it downwards, pushing its way through the rock joints over the years deliberately and unhurriedly dropping deposits of minerals to form lines of orange knobbly formations that crisscrossed above us, and would one day become stalactites, bacon, ribbons, columns, or many other splendid forms of speleothems.

 

In the Cathedral Room, with the guide flipping on lights for us and Elliott setting up his camera. He's so disciplined, sigh, taking every shot using manual settings, while I plumped for automatic mode. And I know the end results will reflect this, I can't wait to see his final images. This was the first part of the caves to be discovered in 1879 by two local boys who were rabbit hunting, and who were the first to return and see the caverns lit up by electricity for the first time in 1920 when the caves opened for public tours. After the boys found the caves their father would charge 50 cents for a tour, his sons lighting the way with candles. Nearby Luray Caverns stole much of the tourist trade when the Norfolk and Western Railroad opened a line in Luray in 1881 and offered cave tickets, resulting in over 9000 admissions in one day in 1921, drawing in more than three times as many customers as Endless Caverns.

The Cathedral Room was spectacular. Our guide had explained all the shield, curtains, and ribbon formations, the stalactites and stalagmites, and here in one cavern, they all were. I was particularly fascinated with the ceiling and the multitude of stalactites that were gradually reaching down. Quite a few were broken off, taken as souvenirs by the very early cave visitors. There were even signatures from early tourists, yesteryear graffiti. Some of the broken stalactites looked like a bed of sea anemones while others looked like huge cocoons hanging down, even appearing translucent so that I desperately wanted to touch them and feel if they were papery. Which of course they wouldn't, but I still had an internal battle going on there for a while, trying to keep my paws to myself.

After some more slipsliding along slippery tunnels and ascending a flight of very narrow and wet limestone steps we emerged back into the sunlight. I noticed a feeling of relief as the warm sun bathed my arms and face, and wondered again about being stuck underground for days. We'd only been down there for less than 45 minutes and our tour guide told us the boys who'd been trapped in the Thailand caves had endured 17 days with only their cell phones for light...food for thought.

Back on Rte 11 we looked back at the huge sign perched on the mountainside. There is a trail to walk up to it, but it's a steep climb and it was way too humid, so we decided against that. I found an interesting article about how the end of the caves came close to being found, click here. As our guide informed us, we really don't want to know where the tunnels end, or it could never be called the Endless Caverns again. So, for now, there's no end in sight, and that's a good thing.

Food and beer were found in Harrisonburg and then we were back on the road, heading north. I wanted to show Elliott one of my favorite places at the Shenandoah Caverns, American Celebration on Parade, but it was closed as they are preparing for their Halloween Fright Night attraction. So I took him upstairs to the shop window display exhibit, which I love almost as much, with the old motors wheezing and clunking as they shove plaster and fabric puppets around circuits grooved in the floor. There are no good videos on YouTube that demonstrate just how creepy these sounds can be. As you approach each window, a clunk reverberates, jolting the puppets into action, some of them with expressions and actions that really belong in a Stephen King movie. I was ecstatic that Elliott viewed this exhibit in the exact same way I did. I can't wait for him to see the parade exhibits.We left and headed further north, stopping at the covered bridge, stepping out of the bright sun and squinting into the dark musty smelling tunnel to admire the woodwork before getting back onto Rte 11.

The last stop before we finished up at the Beer Museum was the Woodstock Tower, where we were treated to panoramic views of lush green forests, the Shenandoah river, and wonderfully cool breezes that cooled us down. We'd been deep underground and now we were on top of the world.  Like Wallace and Gromit, we'd had a Grand Day Out!