An Electrically Explosive Weekend

 Very early on Saturday morning, Elliott and I began the long drive up to PA, where we were not only meeting the rest of the crew, Richard, Emily and Margie, but also, Eric, Andrew and Liz. I was beyond excited and the thought of the 5 hour journey was almost unbearable. But thankfully, our route was far prettier than the rest coming from D.C. and I was soon engrossed in the scenery. A stretch of road soon after we entered PA was very intriguing. Nearly all the homes had azalea bushes in full bloom, and all were the size of the houses they adorned. I'd never seen such huge bushes and we wondered what was in the soil...

We were going to arrive a good hour ahead of the others so decided to check out a local piece of Americana, a roadside mural fence, outside the PennDOT building, and built entirely from old road signs. About 1/4 of a mile long, it was quite admirable and upon closer inspection it was evident a lot of work had gone into it. Created by Alleghany college students and Department of Transportation employees, the wall is called, 'Read Between the Signs'. There was also a 'flower bed' with a few blooms, also made from old signs, which we weren't that impressed with. We'd seen these first and had been disappointed at making a special trip here, but then had suddenly spotted the wall, and instead we were amazed.

We left to meet the crew, suddenly realizing how hungry we were. It was wonderful to see my friends' faces again over lunch, it had been too long, but we didn't hang about too long as we had an important destination to get to. Arriving at the end of a rural, bumpy and unkempt road we parked, donned hiking boots and jackets, and then set off down a track through tall grass fields until old skeletons of buildings began to appear. 

We were exploring an old munitions site. The sign that we posed at and then walked past said, 'Live impact area', so I let Richard lead the way once we were on the grounds, keeping a small distance between us. Just in case. 

After a lot of trudging we finally came to the first building, and the shutters began clicking. We wandered apart from each other, but I soon realized it was better to hang alongside Richard, since he'd been here before, and knew the good places for photographs. And I didn't want to miss anything.

And then the rain came down. We sheltered under the falling roof, watching a sheet of grey drizzle descend in a straight line down to the grass. Turkey vultures circled slowly above us, and I realized that the large feathers scattered in the hay on the floor belonged to these huge birds. We also noticed an abundance of large bones, seemingly from cows that had once grazed and then perished here. In another building, the floor was piled up with grey dust, the remnants of cows being burned, according to Margie. I chose to ignore that.

Eric, Andrew and Liz suddenly emerged from the rain, and it appeared they brought good weather with them, since after a few minutes the rain eased off and we were able to continue along the tracks and explore more.

This tumbledown building kept us occupied for a while, it was incredible that it still managed to stand. Massive pipes, sheets of rusted metal, and planks of rotting wood were all seemingly holding each other up, I felt I could almost hear the eroded nuts, bolts and nails creaking under the strain. At any moment this could all cave in to the middle. And we would be inside it later, more in a bit about that.

During WWII, TNT was in short supply so a munitions plant was built here, completed within a year and employing 8000 workers. But the factory was so efficient that it exceeded its targets and less than a year after opening it was shut down, fortunately after the final victory on V.J. Day. 70 staff kept the place maintained until the mid 50's, but then they too left. The site went into decline, with some of the buildings being purchased and moved elsewhere, but today, the site stands alone and forgotten. Once one of the largest ammunition plants in the U.S., all that is left are a couple of water towers, some brick mono houses, and the steel-framed tower houses along with power area buildings, nearly all in a dilapidated condition and falling down.

The tower houses were beautiful under the stormy sky. Andrew and I likened them to coal breakers we had visited in years past, the huge, broken pane windows, corrugated metal and the wooden structures on the roofs. Huge metallic shells with the sky's grim light battling through the grimy glass, they seemed a little ominous standing in their regimental line, the building behind a copy of the one in front. We only looked inside one of them as a dog was barking continuously from nearby, a few of our group convinced that it was coming closer, and we weren't sure if it was a guard dog. We piled into the building which was furthest away from the canine commotion and took photos. The floor was littered with pottery tubes with spirals inside, reminding me of pasta pieces, many of them intact. We had no idea of their purpose but a few made it home with us. After ten minutes or so, the woofer was still woofing so we decided to retreat. On the way back to the cars we split up, with Andrew, Eric and Liz going ahead. As the rest of us stopped to peer into that old tumbling building we'd been admiring earlier, we heard ATV engines coming our way. Fearing they were security we dashed inside, dodging and dashing in different directions to hide between metal posts and beams, managing to feel adequately hidden as the ATVs passed. The riders all peered inside but didn't stop. A few minutes later we emerged and met up with the others, who also upon hearing the engines, had decided to jump a ditch and hide behind a hedge. Liz, unfortunately, didn't quite make it and ended up on her back in the ditch, spreadeagled, but kept still, thinking she was hidden by the tall grasses. The ATVs passed until the last rider looked down, saw her, and then backed up to where she was lying akimbo and smiling broadly. "What are you doing?" he inquired, and then continued in realization, "Oh, you're hiding!" They both burst out laughing and the riders said they were just there having fun on their vehicles. Eric told them there were more in their group, so as that explained their apparent inquisitiveness as they drove by our hiding place.

We got back to the cars, after having walked over three miles, and drove away for dinner and beers, just as the rain began to slowly fall again, as if to wash away the tracks of our visit.

The next morning, we started early again, but stopped at a diner first to stock up on calories. Today would be a test for my knee, as we'd be clambering over fences, under a broken door and climbing then descending multitudes of stairs. We were exploring an abandoned power station in OH and this would either give me a great workout or put me out of business. But we were eager to get going, and were soon climbing inside the dusty darkness, pulling cameras and flashlights out.

I've explored a couple of power stations before, but this one was a little creepy because there were some areas still powered up. It seemed really weird to walk around the control room, blueprints, keys and instruction cards still in place, the control boards and floor covered in plaster pieces, dust and bird droppings, the tiny lights bulbs on the controls covered in grime and dark, yet a random few of them still shone bright. And in the distant background a low hum reverberated through the silent and shadowy corridors. It was creepy. While the others spent more time on this top floor, I descended, quickly checking the other floors and meeting briefly with Margie, before I finally walked out of a doorway into the turbine room. And I had timed it perfectly. The sunlight shone weakly through the begrimed and blackened glass roof, casting a dull, wavering light, but a single beam shone down onto the giant turbines like a beacon.

This power station went dark over six years ago. Running on coal it was deemed environmentally unfriendly and rather than spend money on modernizing it to meet new clean air standards the company closed it down. The plant was built nearly a hundred years ago and its future is uncertain. It had been placed in reserve status over ten years ago, only helping to provide power in peak periods.

I spent a half hour photographing the cobwebs on the slumbering monster, paying particular attention to a "Hancock 300R, 2" forged gate valve" as an old friend pointed out when I posted the photos on Facebook. "They don't make them like that anymore." he noted. I prowled around the huge machines, climbed up onto the platforms so I could see them from the top, and then back down to venture into the black darkness of the colossal chamber through the next door. It was pitch black in here, so dark that I couldn't see anything without a flashlight and no photos could be taken unless I used the flashlight to 'paint' my subject with light before the camera shutter closed.

It was so incredibly dark that I actually felt uncomfortable. With the thrumming of machines around me, it seemed the electricity was almost tangible, and I was careful not to touch anything. I climbed three or four stories up metal stairs and walked across steel grating floors, conscious of the fact that I could peer down to the levels below by just looking past my feet. There were areas marked with rope and signs saying, 'Authorized Personnel Only'. I walked past these but then wondered if maybe the floors were unsafe and only the staff knew where to walk, or whether chemicals had been spilled, still awaiting clean up. I've smelled some unsavory stenches in power stations before, and today as I approached an area that reminded me of those, an acrid funk wafted towards my nostrils, so I backed away. 

On every explore, we always arrange times to meet up and regroup, and now one of those times was approaching. I was relieved to climb back down and re-enter the turbine hall, seeing my friends also walking our meeting spot. Elliott took a group photo of us and then after many wonderful huge hugs, Eric, Andrew and Liz left to return to D.C. The rest of us decided to spend another hour here so this time Elliott and I stayed together and investigated a few areas we'd not yet been to. I was tired and aware that my knee trembled occasionally under pressure, so decided not to climb any more stairs. By the time we left here, Elliott said we'd walked about three  and a half miles.

We eventually departed, all of us taking home hundreds of photos to process, and we sat together in a local brewery for one final beer. Elliott and I were driving home yet Richard, Emily and Margie were staying one more night, to explore more on the Monday. But Elliott and I weren't envious. We were ready to return to The Blue House, where we knew for certain that Rosie Lee and Tricksie Treat were eagerly awaiting our return. It had been an electrifying weekend.