Friends and Festivities at Christmas

On Christmas Day, Elliott and I hosted lunch for a few friends. The sun was shining, which I wasn't happy about, since I always want the fairy lights to be gleaming and twinkling in an overcast light, but there was still a few patches of snow outside on the grass from a snowfall a few days before, so that was something. I'd spent the evening before prepping and laying the table, a task I love. I had cracked open a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream, the only time of year I drink it, and wrapped up a few last minute presents with Christmas music playing, and then knuckled down to the best part, the dining room table.

I'd been scouring local antique and thrift stores for table decorations, and had managed to procure a high end table cloth, a runner, gorgeous napkins, some new chargers, and a few glasses and candlesticks for tealights and candles, and even found a gorgeous vintage tree topper star. All this for less than $30. The dining room itself, including the mantle piece had been decorated a couple weeks before, and all the Christmas lights cast a cozy atmosphere. I was very happy with the result, and looking forward to our guests arriving.

Elliott had cooked a wonderful paella when his parents and brother had visited a few months ago, and we decided we'd do this again for the lunch. It was easy to prepare, and I'd shopped for the best ingredients, Spanish bomba rice, and all the seafood from Wegmans, including fresh tuna, cod, octopus, clams and oysters, with chicken and kielbasa. I'd made brie, asparagus and prosciutto bundles in pastry to munch on while we were waiting for the paella. Bill and Nick were the first to turn up and then Jason arrived from D.C. Another friend had cried off sick, which was a shame, but more for the rest of us! The drinks began to flow and we laughed and chatted, catching up on everyone's news.

Lunch was demolished rapidly, the paella was a huge success, and we even had English crackers that were fun, with everyone wearing the gold paper hats that were inside. We had diamond reserve Napa Valley Cabernet Sauvignon from Trader Joe's, which was amazing. Trader Joe's have only given 3 of their wines this award, and it's well worthy of it. I had brought a few English Christmas puddings back from our last trip, and cooked one, setting it alight with flaming brandy, and served with Ambrosia custard. Our guests were tentative at first, but soon demolished their small portions, so I cooked up the other 3, which also swiftly disappeared down the hatch. Coffee was served for those who had room for it, while Jason took the opportunity to grab 40 winks.

I have to confess that I was relieved when nobody had any room at all to even taste a small mouthful of my Marks ans Spencer's English Christmas cake. This would be all mine, to enjoy with a large mug of tea in the next few days.

The cats were also treated on Christmas Day. They had top of the range cans of cat food, mixed in with kibble and treats, and were also each given a bag of catnip, shaped like bottles of wine, with labels reading, 'Catbernet Sauvignon', 'Cat's Meow' Chardonnay, and 'Feline Fine Champagne'. They were greeted with enthusiasm, embraced, squeezed, pummeled, licked and chewed, each cat in a separate area of the house, as though not wanting to be shamed by each other with their shows of reckless abandon. But soon their eyes began to glaze over, and the house became quiet as they gradually succumbed to sleep. It wasn't long before Elliott and I followed suit. We all had full bellies, and the best remedy for that was a good sleep!

Urbexing near the Border

For the first time in over a year, our small group, Urbexia got back together for a trip down near the N.C. border, this time with Elliott and Rob joining us. A friend had given us a couple of locations, and we bundled into 2 cars and set off. I hadn't been urbexing since last year, so this was a welcome outing, exploring an abandoned textile factory with our little group, and hoping we'd get some photos worthy of the long car journey down there.

Luckily, we had the weather on our side; it was sunny and reasonably warm, so at least we wouldn't be getting rain drops dripping down our necks when bending over for photos. I was just ecstatic to be with the crew again. A fun day out doing what we loved, plenty of chatting to catch up on friends' lives, and of course, a beer or two at the end of the day. Perfect! We arrived at the factory, a tumbling building that was once a dye mill, built in 1929, expanded up through the 60's and then closed down in 2007. It was used for a while afterwards to store auto parts and vehicle salvage, but today we could see that the building hadn't been used for years. We could walk straight in, the floor covered with deep dead leaves and rolls of decaying fabric. Rusted machinery was floodlit by rays of sunshine pouring in through broken windows.

The main production room area was a vast warehouse building that we accessed by climbing over a fallen metal roof. Vines had forced their way into the building, twisting and curling around rusting metal beams, and I was amazed to see a light bulb still intact inside a hanging lamp. The old machinery still had swathes of shredded and decomposing fabric, the sun shining through the broken threads. There were a few spools of thread in an inside room and some scattered throughout the floor, old production lines, orange with decades of rust, deep layers of debris and leaves collected on them, shattered shards of glass on the floor. The roof looked ready to cave in so we were surprised to hear knocks from above, thinking it was a raccoon or a larger animal up there, then amazed when Rob peered over the edge looking down on us. He was the only one who ventured up there. 

We crept about stealthily, not making any noise, taking photos in the superb lighting. The sun really enhanced the neglected equipment, even lighting up some of the signs that still hung resolutely to the walls, their warnings now obsolete. The chill inside the old building gradually worked its way inside our jackets, and we eventually left the site to carry on our journey. We stopped at Emporia, where a beautiful building stands, the H.T. Klugel Architectural Sheet Metal Work Building. It's an impressive structure in the middle of town, worthy of a stop. The sun was behind clouds as we approached but once it emerged, the building shone, it's silver and black paint gleaming.

It's decorated with the firm's sheet galvanized metal, fine detail on all parts of the front facade, with an elaborate parapet, displaying the company's high quality custom work. This was built in 1914 and showcased the skills of the staff. Incidentally, Emporia comes from the Latin word, 'emporium', meaning a center of trade.

Our last photo stop of the day was another drive to an old gas station that stood in the middle of nowhere, with an abandoned diner close by.

A police car cruised by, eyeing us as we stood on the side of the road, but didn't stop. We wandered about the exterior of the gas station, taking a few shots, and then made our way to the diner. We could barely get inside, it was so full of junk, old cans lined up on bowed, rotting shelves, crumbling boxes filled with stuff, stacks of disentegrating magazines, and piles of bent pots and pans, glasses clouded with years of dust and grease. We managed to squeeze past the debris to enter the tiny dining area, with just a handful of booths and a few rickety bar stools before the counter. A previous photographer had staged a shot with an old menu and condiments, so I took advantage of the scene, quickly snapping off a few pictures. It was pretty dark in there, and cold. Sunlight wasn't a frequent visitor to this space. The day was beginning to dim, and with the temperature dropping, we clambered out, back to the car, and finished the afternoon at a brewery, of course, before the long drive home.

A Rendevous on the Rails with the 611

Just 2 days after getting back from England, we had another trip to embark on. My favorite train, the Norfolk & Western 611, was running trips up in Strasburg, PA, so I had bought tickets to ride in a carriage behind her. It had been a few years since the weekend of chasing her from Manassas to Front Royal and back again, and I'd often wondered why she hadn't repeated those runs, when the weekend had been very popular with her fans. Apparently, Norfolk and Southern who own those railroads haven't wanted to repeat the runs, for insurance reasons, so it now seems Strasburg, or Richmond, her residential home, are the only places she can currently run from, that are reasonably close to us.

It was a good 3 hour journey up there, and freezing cold once we emerged from the car, with high winds buffeting us as we rushed to check in. We walked down to the platform and awaited the Queen of Steam. I was immediately covered in goosebumps and a lump welled in my throat as she slowly turned the corner, her lamp gleaming and smoke puffing up into the sky; it had been a long time since I'd seen this beautiful engine. I was so excited to actually be traveling on a beautifully restored carriage that would be pulled by her, and we soon bundled quickly aboard. Thankfully, the carriages were heated, and soon the whistle blew, steam chuffed over the roof above us, and we were off! Time turned back 100 years as we clunked along the rails, a narrative over speakers about the railroad we were traveling on.

Shooting photos through the glass was a little difficult, but I wasn't too bothered. I was so enamored to finally be on a carriage being pulled by the 611 that I was quite content for a while to just look out the window and enjoy the ride. As we passed over crossings, cars were parked on the sides of roads, with spectators standing and taking photos with phones and cameras, something I had done myself the last time I saw the 611. I have to admit feeling a little smug that I was now onboard one of her carriages, but did feel a pang of pity for people being outside in the freezing cold, and then I realized that they were just as excited to be watching her pass by, just as I once been. The 475 was also running and was on the opposite track, returning to the station, as it passed by, it's reflection in the glass of our carriage creating an interesting shot.

 I didn't take many photos on the first leg of our ride, content to just sit and watch people watching us, and enjoy the scenery with smoke billowing across the fields. At Paradise, PA, the 611 disengaged, and then rode past our carriages to hook up at the front, and perform a brake test, so she could pull us back to the station. People inside started pulling down the windows to lean out, and I followed suit, smiling as I watched people's heads and arms holding phones, leaning out to capture this huge metallic beauty pass us slowly by.

On the way back, I asked a couple seated nearby, who I'd been chatting to, if they minded the window being open for some of the return journey, and they had no issues with me and my camera leaning out, capturing the plumes of black and white smoke as it unfurled and tumbled across the fields, swirling then evaporating. The 475 rolled by again, pulling her carriages to the point we'd just left. She is Strasburg's oldest steam locomotive, built in 1906, and the only 4-8-0 wheel configuration locomotive running in North America. 4-8-0 means 4 leading wheels on 2 axles, 8 powered wheels on 4 axles with no trailing wheels. The 611 is a 4-8-4 configuration.

 

All too quickly we were pulling into the station, our ride completed; it had only taken about 40 minutes. We clambered down quickly to run along the platform and see her at the end of the track before she began her next ride. What a beauty! What magnificence! I didn't know whether to take photos or just stand and drool. She was looking absolutely resplendent after her recent restoration. Since November 2021, she's undergone extensive boiler work, but it was plain to see she'd also had a repaint in areas. She looked brand new. I gawped at her huge shiny wheels, peered closely at her shining bell, desperately wanting to touch every part and stroke her sides, streaked with rivulets of water. I didn't know where to stand, it was impossible to take her whole length in. I strode back and forth, noticing every detail, stopping when I saw an engineer with a long rod, and discovered he was pushing ash into the hopper to avoid overheating.

We waited for her to return from the next ride, just so we could watch her pull into the station again, and this time I focused on the front of her, that huge beautiful black face, streaked with steam, shiny after her workout. I had to force myself to take photos, I just wanted to gawp. I looked at those passengers that had paid extra to actually be in the cab, and help with shoveling steam, blowing the whistle, or just sitting and relishing the ride from a different perspective. Next year, I will do that, if she runs again.

 I walked up and down, and back again, and then once she'd hooted a farewell as she pulled her latest load of adoring fans down the track, we decided to have a wander around the museum, more to warm up than anything.

 

There were some gorgeous engines inside the museum, and an impressive model railway, but I was more interested in the trains outside than inside, massive bolt laden hulks, waiting to be restored, patiently waiting their turn out in all weather.

After strolling around outside for about 10 minutes, we succumbed to the cold, and decided to leave. The winds were freezing, it was so blustery, and my eyes were constantly streaming. We walked back to where our car was parked and chatted with an older gentleman, who turned out to be a mechanic who had worked on the 611. He told us that the chief engineer who's worked on her since the 70's was here today, and I told him of my ardent love for this locomotive. He smiled and said that since I was a genuine fan he had a small gift for me. He pulled out from the inside of his jacket a scrunched up cluster of tissues and carefully unwrapped them, pulling out a small chunk of coal, which he said had come from her tender. I was overwhelmed with his gift and gave him a huge hug. Elliott had got me a lovely 611 badge, and these 2 souvenirs went behind glass when I got home.

Nightwaterproject.com posted this video of the ride, if you'd like to follow along. There's also shots of the trains entering the station. And the last photo was my favorite of the day, reminding me of a dog that's done well and is being rewarded with a treat. She did well! Roll on next year for another ride!