On Saturday Elliott and I drove up to Cresson Prison, where we met some of the DCUE group, to tour the grounds. There were a few faces I'd not seen for a long time, and many I'd seen recently but was excited to see again. I was shocked to step out of the car and find the air chilly; dressed only in a thin t-shirt, I promptly warmed myself up by giving everyone big hugs.
On an isolated, wild mountain and with a steel grey sky hanging over the site, CSI Cresson appeared gloomy and reluctant to admit visitors. It opened as a tuberculosis sanatorium in 1913, later becoming a mental hospital in 1956,and then a male medium security prison, with the first prisoners arriving in 1987. It closed its doors in 2013 due to lack of modernization and rising costs proving too expensive. Local officials attempted to encourage local development on the site, even a natural gas power plant, to no avail, since just demolishing all the buildings would cost around $15 million. So it stood abandoned until Big House Produce started a hydroponic farm there and began growing veggies and hemp on the grounds, while also selling tickets to photographers and urbexers to roam the site with their cameras.
We were allowed to wander anywhere within the boundary of the huge razor wire swathes that surrounded the buildings, as long as we didn't force locked doors open or walk into areas that were taped off. Our group members scattered into different directions, but Elliott and I explored with Emily, starting in some of the isolation cell blocks and then on to a larger building, with a kitchen, classrooms and offices.
Obviously, there was no lighting, so many of the spaces were dimly lit, and my flashlight was pulled out frequently. Rubble and peeled paint flakes littered the floors and stairwells, and even black mold was present in a couple of spaces, areas that I vacated swiftly. But it was pleasant to roam around old buildings that were mostly devoid of graffiti and crass phrases sprayed across the walls. These rooms were slowly deteriorating and breaking down simply due to the forces of nature and neglect. Some of the lower areas had pools of still and stagnant water but we mostly avoided the damp basements, I'm not keen on those...
We walked into one of the cell blocks, after Elliott struck a striking pose by the tall metal fence, inadvertently looking like a prison officer himself in his dark shirt and sunglasses. We passed a derelict security hut before entering the block house, the sun forcing a ray of light into the common area to brighten up the tables. Tiny cells with no windows lined the walls, each with 2 bunks, a metal toilet and wash basin, a tiny metal desk and stool and 2 small metal cupboards. I felt claustrophobic just looking through the heavy steel doors and pondered at the misery of being confined in one of these for 23 hours a day with no daylight.
Quite a few of the windows in the buildings we roamed around had been shot through, creating interesting effects in the armored glass. This one gleamed in the sunlight displaying a spectrum of color, and I realized it was the only display of vibrancy we'd seen so far.
You couldn't walk any of the paths without being towered over by huge rolling coils of razor wire, it was everywhere, glinting menacingly in the bright sunshine, which was now making a hearty effort to warm up the grounds, and our spirits. But Grace Chapel was a building of calm with beautiful stained glass windows in pastel blues, greens and yellows, a gorgeous wrought iron gate and ornate woodwork, albeit much of it was crumbling, and broken steps to an upstairs level were taped off. Even despite it's slow decay a sense of peace emanated along the pews and even a small finch had felt safe enough to made her nest in the hallway.
Leaving the chapel, we walked over to the prison administration building, built of stone and timber, attempting a mock Tudor facade. This building used to house healthy children whose parents were hospitalized in the sanatorium, but the interior had evidently changed dramatically after becoming a prison. It still held old rusting medical equipment, with peeling paint and layers of dust, sitting silently in darkened rooms. There were even a few sheets of curling damp paper on the floor, with instructions for nurses on how to use the contraptions. It felt like a scene from a horror movie and I was glad to break out into the fresh air afterwards, focusing on the tall green grass lying softly on the ground, and colorful daisies and chicory blooming through the cracked paths.
After 4 hours we were ready to go. We felt we'd missed some areas, but empty stomachs and sore feet led us swiftly back to the main gates, where we retrieved our ID's and were released into the carpark, where of course, the next destination would be a restaurant with great food and equally superb craft beers.
This article is an interesting read, with eerie snow photos.
In 2013 an investigation of Cresson, and its use of unreasonable lengths of isolation that sanatorium patients and prison inmates endured, was written into a report, with some individual cases highlighted; the lengthy report is here. I had heard about the self harm and suicide attempts made here, and paranormal activity of tortured souls roaming the grounds, but thankfully, I had no personal experience of this while I was there. Ghost Hunts USA have an event here at the end of the month, but I have no wish to return and search for haunted spirits, I'll leave that to the hardier folks!
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