This was the weekend before my vacation to England, so before I went home I had to shop for gifts to take with me and for items I'd need for the trip. But on the way to Warrenton I took a detour to an abandonment I'd discovered, labeled as a 'religious cult house'. This had piqued my curiosity so I took the Sony with me. I found nothing on the internet about any cult houses in my area but a quick nose about seemed a good idea.
The structure was nearly dilapidated and resembled a farm building. Obscured by tall grasses and vines that appeared to be tugging the building down, I wondered about the 'for sale' sign outside. This would be a tear down, the property only useful for its land. Nearly all the windows were smashed and nature was definitely claiming this as its own.
There was little inside of interest, nothing that yelled out religion, only wrappers and napkins from a local BBQ restaurant. A few scattered pieces of furniture, a workshop area with cans so rusty that the labels were unidentifiable. There was little to photograph except the wonderful lighting on the multitude of cobwebs that were spun across doorways and window frames. They had collected dust themselves and hung like delicate folds of material, some even with their long deceased makers curled up inside. The few panes of glass that had clung to the window frames were broken shards, hanging like translucent jagged stalactites, the high sun struggling to shine through the thick dust, and instead casting deep shadows within the musty rooms.
But I soon bored of the building. After 10 years of urbexing, I am now only excited by the bigger industrial properties, or those with architectural interest. Some of my friends still take delight in old homes or any obviously vacated smaller buildings but I have become more selective. I was finding that the stench of mold and old dust was repulsing me and I craved to be outside in the fresh air. Within 15 minutes I was finished with my exploration and back outside in the sunshine taking in deep lungfuls of sweet grass scented air.
Later in the day I drove to Linden, VA, to look at some houses. I'm looking into the possibility of buying a house rather than renting but wanted to see what my options were before I took the plunge. Not being a high earner my choices are limited and whatever I can afford will be further away, increasing my commute. So I was thinking that since I've enjoyed living on a hill for the past 7 years I might consider mountain living. The other end of the scale would be quiet back streets in Front Royal, where I would likely know my neighbors and be able to walk around the streets of this little town right next to the mountains. But today I was looking forward to exploring 'high living' options, imagining myself with a little ranch or alpine style place with a deck and privacy, wildlife on my doorstep and no flooding possibilities. I know that living on top of a mountain does mean that all noise below travels upwards so I'd be monitoring the volume outside also, thinking a weekend day would likely be the loudest at any home.
As I left the main road to explore one house, the road immediately became unpaved and a steep incline. I made my way upwards and upwards, climbing to the top until I encountered barriers. It was a gated community but I wasn't too upset as I realized it would be extremely difficult to get a moving truck up here and would incur considerable wear and tear on Stanley. So I gave up on that one and turned around to drive up another mountain on the other side of the interstate. This time when I left the main road the surface was even rougher.
Thinking I was fine in my SUV I drove on undaunted, heading to a plot where the house hadn't yet been built, but had drawn me in with its promise of 'peaceful solitude and your own strawberry patch', The road was hell. Barely wide enough for my vehicle with gullies on each side, it was muddy and rocky. And damn near vertical. It got steeper and steeper so that I was leaning forward in my seat. The wheels spun, throwing rocks up underneath the car and eventually I stopped. My nerves were frayed, I wasn't going any further. If it was like this in summer, what on earth would it be like in winter? Impassable. How does this community go to work? I had to back down very slowly and then to exit the development, I had another almost 90 degree climb. I was sweating with anxiety when I eventually reached the top, stopping once I was on level ground, and then stepped out to check Stanley. I had a flat rear tire. That was the final nail in the coffin. I could not live in any of these mountain houses. But later, after reflecting on my experience, I realized that I actually could, if I kept to the upper or lower roads, and just avoided the difficult to reach houses in the middle. I need to explore these options further and also the 'quiet street in town' houses too. This research will continue once I return from my homeland.
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