Choking the Color at Carrie

Elliott's friend, Marty, brought his grandson, Riley, along to join us at Carrie Furnace in PA on Sunday. I hadn't been here for five years and was a little doubtful about how much of the site would now be accessible. Due to the machinery's decline and neglect there was bound to be a lot more disintegration and decay, meaning more areas would be off limits. But regardless, I would be spending the day with the main man, and that alone would make me ecstatically happy. I decided that my photos on this visit would be black and white, certainly not because that would reflect my mood, which if it did, would mean all my photos would instead have lots of little glittering gold and silver sparkles popping out, unicorns prancing among the ruins and rainbows shooting above the tall furnace chimneys. I was going to process in black and white simply because I never do it. I always choose color, and then often play with those hues and tints, but this time I'd push myself to be more sombre and dramatic. Unfortunately I had little time to spend on processing, so may one day come back to these images and reprocess them, (yeah, right!). But my Number One Blog Fan, Myra, insists on my posts being somewhat timely, and I must oblige. So these were quickly run through while at work, one minute using an adjustment brush to pull out a detail in the shadows of a photo, and the next, drawing a poker tournament design on a t-shirt proof. I'm good at multitasking.

Everyone was masked up as we arrived, and everyone kept their masks on while in close proximity to others, although we had plenty of opportunities to take breathers and pull them off since the place was so vast with not so many people walking about. It was a cloudy overcast day, the sun failing to make an appearance despite constant attempts to shine through the clouds. But we were pleased, a day without heat and extreme shadows or blinding rays of sun made it the perfect setting for me to produce my black and white images. Elliott marched right in front of me as I was framing a shot, to get up close to the furnace stacks and even closer to a guy setting up his camera on a tripod. I was going to wait until he moved out of the way but then thought it would make an excellent photo just as it was. And it did.

Carrie Furnace was shut down in 1978 and in 2006 the two remaining furnaces became a National Historical Landmark. It had produced over a thousand tonnes of iron per day at its peak and had obviously also produced a lot of pollution, contaminating the surrounding area. Clean up began in the 1990's and continues today. Eventually the land will be used for residential and commercial purposes along with some light industry. A museum will also be built containing the 2 furnaces still standing. Rivers of Steel are intent on the preservation of the the steel industry heritage, saving the structures where they can, as well as relics and historical memories. They provide tours of Carrie, and other saved landmarks, as well as encouraging workshops and art installations.

Because I was planning on monochromatic photos I focused more on textures, shapes and lines. We all kept relatively close together, Elliott spending a lot of his time talking to Riley, explaining camera procedures and photo compositions. Marty and I chipped in at times but Elliott was like a full on instructor, he was awesome. And Riley appeared to be lapping up all the tuition. Considering he is only 14 years old, he was great company and acted as if we much older pals were his peers. I was impressed with his maturity. Unfortunately I didn't get any photos of him, or Marty, and regret that, but they're coming with us to photograph some vintage trucks in the near future, so I plan on capturing a more human perspective in my photos on that trip.

Marty showed us a photo he'd taken, looking through a hole in the fence at the furnace base. I used a different hole and had a go. The base of the furnace looked like a huge imposing space ship. I almost expected it to begin humming in low tones, with a hatch opening out, and a spindly, gangling alien figure reaching towards us.

This old piano part caught our eye and I decided to climb up onto the rusted rotors to get a better shot. These materials are used in the workshop that River of Steel holds, where people can come in and cast art objects. I'd love to have a go at that but it's too far to come. So I was perched up on top of the rotors, admittedly a little wobbly, when a member of staff came over, and a little gruffly, asked me to get down. Which I did. And then I started chatting with him, asking questions, and generally getting on famously, my little misdemeanor almost forgotten. But Elliott and Marty ribbed me afterwards for 'ass kissing' on a huge scale, causing both of them to walk away in mock disgust and we laughed. But I'd made a friend, and later when he approached us to remind us that our time was nearly up, he came to me and spoke so kindly it was as if we'd known each other for years, rather than less than an hour. So yup, I'll 'ass kiss' every time, if it gets me what I want. There's been a few close arrest scenarios in the past when I've been urbexing, and I've done the same thing, and got myself and friends off the hook.

We finished up near the railroad area where the raw materials and fuel had once been delivered. The locker rooms had disintegrated further since my last visit, capsizing on themselves, but the old steam engine stood solidly and defiantly, resisting the attacks of decay. For some reason Marty and Elliott decided that a rusty old lamp above the locker room was a fascinating and captivating subject to focus their huge cameras and lenses on. Not me, I was more interested in photographing them, hastily snapping a shot while resisting the urge to laugh out loud.

Marty took this photo of an old iron girder that resembled a face, a dragon face in my opinion. Elliott had told Marty about pareidolia, seeing faces in inanimate objects. I'd been aware of this, as are most people, but never knew that it had an actual name. Marty was actively searching for these faces as he walked around, so I'm hoping he'll share his images with us later.

My only color photo of the day was this tiny outcrop of plants, perched up on the side of the furnace building, surrounded by rusty, dark metal and wood, a burst of vibrant color held within a 'shadow box', so vivid it was as though they were proclaiming, "We're alive!" while surrounded by drab decay.

It had been a great afternoon with wonderful people, the time racing past so fast that I felt I'd only been there for an hour, not three. Yet I was a little disappointed that yet more areas were no longer accessible since my last trip. We were really limited to how close we could get to the furnaces and the chimney areas. No longer could we walk around and between them, and I get it. It's got to be extremely difficult to keep huge rusting machinery safe enough for the general public to roam around, and so I'm grateful for my past trips where we'd had a lot more freedom. I likely won't return to Carrie, especially as it's going to become more of a tourist spot and museum. It's great that the area is being preserved, but it's no longer this urbexing girl's ideal photo safari. So farewell old friend, stand strong and resilient, and keep those tourists pouring in, reminding them of the steel industry that once reigned in these parts.

Swinging through Millersville

 Last summer, while exploring the back roads around Strasburg, I came across a home that seemed to have a mini village erected in its yard. I'd stopped to take a couple of photos but saw no -one to ask the multitude of questions I had. A few weeks later I picked up a local paper and discovered that earlier in the summer this little town had had an open day, so I made a note, intending to keep an ear to the ground for another open day this year, although with COVID, I'd assumed this year would be skipped. I told Elliott about it and was amazed when just a couple of days later Front Royal's online paper announced that Millersville would be open to the public on Saturday. So, of course, we went.

We were going to be early so I decided to show Elliott some of the swinging bridges I'd discovered at the end of last year. We went to the 'lovers' bridge first, where I was delighted to see a lot more padlocks had been added. Elliott and I will be returning to add one of our own; it made me smile to think that the last time I'd been here, that idea would never have crossed my mind, although, admittedly, seeing all so those declarations of adoration had left me a little wistful.

More inscriptions had been carved or written on the planks and Elliott had no idea of the carved message I had arranged to be in the foreground of the shot I took of him, although I did mention that he shouldn't be presumptuous when he saw the photo...Still, I loved the shot, and wondered whether its author's proposal had been accepted.

3 photos that Elliott took of me, bless him. It's such a novelty to be able to include photos of me on my blog, so often I took these trips alone.

Here is one I took of us later in the afternoon, both aiming our cameras at an old mill.

It was nearly opening time at Millersville so we sped back towards Strasburg. I was so excited to see the 'town' close up and meet its creator.

The next three photos were taken by Elliott. Larry Miller, the owner and creator of Millersville is in the middle of the group shot, with his nephew on his right, and me, Elliott and I in the grocery store, and then me checking out a vintage fridge. I so badly want one of these in my kitchen, but in good working order, obviously.

We had barely been there five minutes before Larry yelled out that he was starting a tour. We scurried over to take part. He was wearing a shirt made from chicken feed sacks that I thought was kind of cool, and wondered if hops came in sacks which could be obtained for this purpose. I shall make inquiries.

Millersville was built by Larry over the course of more than ten years to showcase a historic Strasburg throughout the early to mid 20th century. There's a church, an old grocery store, a garage, a log cabin, a bowling alley, a garage, and his latest addition, a barber shop. Everything displayed is vintage, many items donated by family and town residents, and there's a lot of it. Every little building we entered had me twisting my head every which way to ensure I didn't miss anything. Looking up and peeking behind doors needed to be done too, the tiny rooms had stuff tucked into every corner, and every shelf and cupboard was crammed.

Larry began the tour with the log cabin. A small crowd followed him, and around every corner, he'd turn, look over his shoulder, and with a beaming smile yell out, "C'mon, kids!" Not one of us kids was under 40 years old, but we followed regardless, eager to see his creations. The log cabin was cozy, too cozy for me to successfully take photos without people obstructing the shots, so I gave up. He'd point out each item quickly, so I ended up just listening, trying to take in all the trivia: a 12 pt elk that he'd shot, loomed into the room from over the fireplace, coins and medals he'd lacquered onto the dining room table, an old photo of three famous cowboys, the name of just one that I remembered, because there was a pair of his guns also hanging from the bed post, Gene Autry. He pointed out old chamberpots, a husky racing sled from Alaska, paintings and tools, my head was spinning. And then before I really got stock of everything he sprinted for the door, and we were leaving to move onto the next building.

Larry pointed out an old bicycle that his friend had used as a child, insisting that she pose by it while he took a photo. He picked up many more pieces, describing their use or where he obtained it, and I had to desist from taking notes, or I'd be constantly looking down rather than watching him. So most of what's written here is from memory, with only a few hasty lines entered on my phone, many of which were undecipherable later when I went back to them. I'm not a good note taker, evidently. We followed him from building to building, friends and relatives stopping to greet and hug him, some passing more vintage relics for his collection, or simply telling him where they'd come from and when they'd catch up with him. This guy is popular! He led us into the bowling alley, pointing out old phones, a Sears catalog bicycle and a sheep shearer that connected to four shearers while one other turned a handle to supply power to the others. He tapped a wooden wall hanging that he had carved, showing a moon backdrop and stairs to heaven, pairs of old ice skates, hundreds of tools, and then before I knew it, we were in the old grocery store, where he stood behind the counter, and proceeded to reel off details while picking up objects for us to see. There was a huge Sears catalog from the 40's that could be signed for, taken from the store by customers and then returned with an order. One item that intrigued me was the gas operated iron, I'd never heard of or seen one before. I found some information about them here. A 1902 polished Pontiac sat outside, still in running condition, next to a gas pump declaring 27c a gallon.

And then we went to church. Elliott was filming a lot of the tour, which I was astounded at. That's a lot of post processing to do, something I don't have the inclination for, or the time to spare, but he's pretty damn efficient and produces stunning results, so I'll just have to wait patiently for the video. Everyone that could sit on one of the pews carved by Larry himself, did, including us, and I awaited our sermon. Naturally he began by pointing out memorabilia around the room, a 48 star US flag, a 1912 Methodist table and I was amazed to be told, and shown, how the pews he'd made also folded down to double up as desks when the church would be used as a school house. He then pointed at a picture of Jesus, and I thought, 'Here we go!' Sure enough, he mentioned Revelation 3:20 and told us that since the end was nigh, he was going to talk about how Jesus was going to return. He was so confident and convincing that I almost looked around at the door to see if in fact Jesus was dropping by. He then went on to explain that this place was a ministry and not just a church. I later found out that Larry was a retired pastor, and looking around the room, I noticed most folks seemed to be taking his speech with a pinch of salt, although evidently enjoying it. I suspected many had sat here before for his sermons, and one even whispered in a joking manner that he'd be passing round the plate in a minute or two. I thought it was great, American preaching firsthand, with hand flourishes and smiles, not like the stuffy sermons I've sat through in England.

Larry didn't overdo the sermon, this was the end of the tour, and he left to begin another one almost immediately. Elliott and I walked out into the sunshine and began walking around slowly to take photos of interesting things we'd missed or passed by quickly earlier.

 Larry in his barber shop, the latest addition to the village, photo by Rich Cooley from Northern Virginia Daily paper.

One of Larry's friends took this photo of me in the outhouse, the wallpaper comprising of 1959 Sears catalog pages, and even a pile of corn husks. I really couldn't imagine ever having to use those things, why not leaves? So much softer. Either that or I'd be ripping that wallpaper from the walls... Larry joined us again here and told an appropriate joke. I'm sure it was an old one, but I'd not heard it before, and loved it.

A farmer walks up to an outhouse and finds a man fishing around in the hole with a long stick. The farmer asks what he is doing and the man replies, "I dropped my jacket down in there and I'm trying to get it back."

The first man says, " Are you crazy? Are you really gonna wear the jacket after it's been down there?"

The second man says, "Oh, no way! But there's a biscuit in one of the pockets." 

Elliott and I wandered around snapping shots with our cameras, and after a while I lost him. Boo. So I peered into all of the buildings again and poked about behind them looking for anything that I might have missed. The sun was casting interesting shadows on many of the rustic displays and I soon got engrossed in taking photos, people watching, and just simply enjoying the sunshine, music, and aura of happiness that seemed to spread throughout this little town.

I found Elliott sitting down enjoying a bowl of chilli. Larry's team had cooked hotdogs, chilli, cornbread, a variety of beans and even desserts. And nobody would take any money, not even a donation. Even the water and sodas were free. I tried a bowl of brown beans which were amazing. I'd never heard of them before, but found a popular recipe here.
We left with more people still pouring in. I was so pleased we'd come, loving old fashioned Americana as I do. This little Millersville town is incredible and so was Larry and his family and friends. The whole afternoon had been like a treasure hunt with a sea of happy faces everywhere we went. I kind of wanted to stay.