School's Out so Keep on Truckin'

On Saturday I set off early to drive down south to Cartersville, where I'd be meeting some urbexing friends to photograph an old school. After nearly 2 hours I neared my destination and just a few miles south from home nature was already proudly displaying her first colors of spring. I passed yellow forsythia and pear trees were exploding with bright white blossoms, like clouds of confetti. Yellow trumpeted daffodils lined the edges of the roads, trimming peoples' front yards and I spotted branches with tightly squeezed pink buds, waiting for a few more degrees of warmth before spreading their petals.

I stopped at this old bridge, built in 1884 and used to cross James River until Hurricane Agnes swept away the center in 1972. VDOT wanted to tear it down but it was saved as a historical marker, although it's sadly apparent that no restoration work has been done.

Just down the road was this fabulous cockerel atop some hay bales, appearing to be crowing for attention, and immediately across the road was the Hamilton School which we were photographing. It was easy to find, there was little else here in this tiny community, only one store combined with a gas station and very little traffic. I noticed the absence of engine noise and relished it.

Opened in 1910 to replace the small one room school, funds were raised by parents and locals. It had 112 students on its first day with 7 instructors. The auditorium and another 2 classrooms were added in 1914 with a home economics and also an agricultural building added in 1930. It's now just used for storage with the annex having been converted into a home of a lady who's now the custodian of the school. It was her that Eric had arranged today's explore for a small fee and we had the run of the place. I chatted with her before going inside the building, suggesting she should set up photography days for groups from Virginia and DC but she had no internet so had no way of reaching out. She also mentioned her lack of cable TV but it was clear she wasn't missing any of the modern technology. I admired that. A huge Great Dane peered over the fence, trying to join in our conversation. He'd been barking furiously when I arrived but our docent had soon hurried out to greet me and assure her canine guard that I was friend and not foe.

I was the first to pull up at the school and wasted no time in grabbing the opportunity to take photos with no others present. It was colder inside than out and as I stood trying to work my fingers to move the camera dials I stared at this staircase. In this light it appeared hauntingly imposing. If I had stood any longer I'm sure those doors would have started slamming on their own or a ball would plop slowly down the stairs, just like in the 1980 horror movie, The Changeling. I walked back outside again and was pleased to see another of our crew had turned up.

There was some visible decay in the building. Part of a roof had fallen in, a few of the higher windows had been blown out by the recent wind storm and a door on the side of the auditorium seemed to have suffered the same fate. The lower rooms were filled with old furniture, but none of it appealingly antique, it looked more like an exhibition had been put on for passers by. It wasn't authentic to the use of the building so I didn't take photos of any of it. The rooms upstairs were empty,

We did find a cupboard filled with old books but the blackboards had been daubed with irrelevant messages. I was intrigued with the water fountains in the hallways but had soon explored the school and taken all the photos I wanted to take. It seemed most of the group were thinking like me as we found ourselves spending most of our time in the auditorium.

This was a fabulous room with superb lighting and almost pristine chairs. We strolled back and forth shooting from every angle, a pretty little cat following us back and forth, and clearly enjoying our company. She was s chubby little thing, obviously well fed, we found her food and water bowls in the hallway, but I felt sad she didn't have a warm bed. But she didn't like being picked up for cuddles although a stroke was enjoyed so I guess she was content with her lot. At least she had shelter.

We had to pose for some group shots but didn't hang around for too long since it was cold. It wasn't until this point that I realized I was the only girl present today. I traipsed through the dusty corridors for once last look and then we bundled out of the old school, and on to our next stop.

The next place was a short car ride to what we all call The Truck Farm. I've been here twice before, as had most of the group, but we wanted to shoot it one more time as we'd heard that the owner had died. This was sad news, he had been an amazing old man, still working at 93 years old when I last saw him, and I loved listening to him talk about the old trucks and how he'd acquired them all but never got around to restoring them. We were worried that the land would be sold off or left vacant, paving the way for vandals to come in, smashing glass, stealing hood ornaments and spray painting the old vehicles with graffiti. It would have been like desecrating a graveyard. We spoke to some guys working in the garage and were relieved to be told that they planned to carry on as normal and there were no plans to close down in the near future. Thankfully, we pulled out our cameras from their bags and set to photographing these old wrecks, which have been resting here for countless years, their paint and rusting bodies aging beautifully with each season of snow, rain and burning sun.

I recognized many of the vehicles as I walked around but also noticed that some I'd photographed before had gone, which made me wonder if they had been carted off for restoration or if someone had just wanted an old antique car resting on their property as an attraction. The light wasn't at its best, and we had decided we'd come back in the spring or fall to capture the sunset and do some light painting so I was struggling to get creative as I strolled between the silent hulks, new bramble shoots grasping the bottoms of my jeans. But as I walked through one of the sheds, a turn signal lens caught my eye and for the next half an hour I was absorbed in catching the light shining through the old colored glass.

Andrew had brought his light sticks along to play with but it was too light so our enthusiasm soon waned, but it had been lovely to see the old trucks again, and reassuring to hear that they'd be there for a bit longer. We left, happy to know we'd see them again and went in search of a very late lunch.

Riding Out Riley

On Friday, Wind Storm Riley hit us. I had known it would be windy but didn't take it seriously enough, and therefore didn't prepare. It had been a very blowy drive to work, being jostled and bustled from side to side as I struggled to keep between the lines on Rte 66 in the dark, wanting to avoid country lanes where trees might be down. I did think that far ahead. But as I sat at work listening to the wind tugging furiously at the metal roof overhead, and sounding like drums in a heavy rock band, I started wishing I'd done more at home. Apparently the power went down just after I left at 6:00am and I worried about Kota getting cold. I left work early, glad to be missing the heavy traffic.

 As I sat at a junction the traffic lights above me bounced up and down on their cables as though jumping a skipping rope. I marveled at how they stayed attached. The leaves were lifted and thrown across the road and even as I sat stationary, the car was rocking. As the lights turned green, I quickly accelerated, just in case those lights fell on top of Stanley, and did the same at every other junction where I passed, every light jostling and jiggling furiously, looking like at any moment they would wrench free of their constraints.
There were plenty of tree limbs down on the way home, some had already been chopped up and neatly stacked on the sides of the road. It was very tempting to stop and load up with this bountiful fire wood but I wanted to be home, worried about Kota getting cold. I was glad to finally pull up and rush indoors. The house was chilly and poor Kota and Rosie Lee were huddled up on the sofa. Dropping my bags I started up the wood stove immediately. It took a while to catch, the wind actually blowing down the chimney as though determined to thwart my attempts at kindling the starter wood. but the flames defied the cold blasts, flickering weakly at first but rapidly building in strength and heat. I pulled two chairs in front of the open flames and plonked the cats down, one on each. They looked at me and each other wonderingly, but then feeling the heat, settled down to bask in the warmth.
I quickly opened the fridge to pull out water bottles and the milk, then closed the door again, hoping the temperature would remain cool inside. The milk would now stay out on the back step, the wind would keep it chilled. I usually plan ahead for storms, filling containers and the bath in readiness, but this time I just hadn't thought we'd lose power, so I had no water at all apart from 1 gallon.

I put a saucepan of water on the stove for a much needed mug of tea. The cats watched through the patio doors, sticking close together as they tried to make sense of the racket outside. The dusk slowly crept in and the gales grew louder, as if screaming banshees were circling the house. I went outside to ensure the tarps were secure over my wood pile and stood staring at the trees. It was frightening, feeling the force of the gales and listening to them thundering through the woods towards me like a giant beast. It was a long evening with just a pale yellow light from the wood stove and an oil lamp lighting the room. Kota and Rosie Lee huddled up against me on the sofa and I read a book, my concentration constantly broken with the sound of the howling storm and branches being hurled on to the metal roof or thrown against the back of the house.

I had hoped that I'd wake up the next morning and see my alarm clock flickering on and off, waiting for the time to be reset, but there was still no power. The living room was freezing with poor little Kota sat in the rocking chair, staring at the wood stove with its bank of cold grey ashes as though he was willing flames to erupt in front of him. His desire was met within a few minutes as I made lighting the fire my first concern. I had a charged power pack for my phone and swapped messages with Bheki across the other side of the hill. We were the only ones who had stayed, everyone else had fled the previous day. Maggi always hides up in a Marriott hotel suite during these episodes, a great idea if you can afford it! Breakfast was a mug of tea and yesterday's pizza heated over the wood stove. I'd left it in the car overnight to keep it cool. I kept looking at the clock as I'd made plans to drive down to Verona, VA for a militant march being held at noon. I had no political interest but I'd thought it would be an excellent photo shoot. If the power came on early enough, I could switch on the heating and then drive down there. It didn't happen. But I found out on Monday that it had been canceled, so it seemed that karma had kicked in to ensure I didn't go, there'd been no cancellation notices on Saturday or before...
Power finally came back on Saturday afternoon. I love that sound of the oven clicking as its clock kicks in. Listening to the fridge start its whirring again and the fan on the wood stove breathe its low hum, it really made me aware of just how much we take for granted. The first thing I needed was a shower and then to do the washing up. I enjoy the 'camping' atmosphere during a power outage but not the clear up afterwards. I rushed around while Kota and Rosie Lee hovered by the door, wanting to get outside. The winds were still high but there was a sense of calmness, of survival, we'd made it through. Rosie Lee wasn't too keen on being blustered about so scurried back indoors, but Kota was resilient. He was once buffeted so hard that he nearly keeled over, promptly sitting down with the shock and looking up at me mieowing. I picked him up and we walked across the fields.

Underneath the trees we found a brief respite from the strong gales. It seemed unfair somehow that they still persisted. The sun was shining brightly and we just wanted the winds gone, they had had their moment of center stage. During the brief still moments when it seemed the winds were taking a deep breath before they puffed again, the sun felt wonderfully warm, so glorious that for a few fleeting seconds I wanted to take my jacket off and walk in just my t-shirt. But then a gust would fly across the hills with renewed energy causing the temperature to plummet once again. Kota got his fresh air but was ready to return to the warm fireside.

The rest of the weekend stayed cold and blowy with many residents still with no power. I felt very grateful that I had mine and made a point of thanking Dominion Power and their fabulous workers. They had linesmen from Florida helping them forming a crew of nearly 4000 that worked 24/7. They were not supposed to be working from up in their buckets in winds of more than 35mph but I know that was overlooked, making me even more respectful of these workers who were doing everything in their power ('scuse the pun) to get their clients back on line, (sorry, and another one...)  They later told us that Windstorm Riley "ranks as one of the top five most damaging storms in Dominion Energy history, topped only by Hurricanes Floyd, Isabel and Irene, and the Super Derecho of 2012."
The community had certainly rallied together too. Those who had power early opened their homes so folks still without could have hot showers and meals  Social media was buzzing with offers of help, and our local church was ladling out free hot chili and cornbread. If I hadn't eaten before reading that I would have gone. so all ended well and none were happier than me and my little fluffy room mates, glad that life had calmed back down again. Can we have Spring now?

Busting into Budd

On a miserable, damp and drippy Saturday, our Urbexia group drove up to Philly to explore an old factory building that had once been a manufacturing plant for trolley car bodies, plane shells, missile and space vehicles along with other body parts of the vehicle industry.

 In its heyday the Budd Company had been a hive of activity, but today the building stood silent, tall and empty, its walls cracked and peeling, window panes smashed and daubed with graffiti. It had opened in 1912, developing all steel automobile bodies, which had previously been made of wood, and also the technique of welding pieces together without causing erosion, the 'shotweld' technique. The company stopped manufacturing here in 2002 and any Budd built cars remaining are highly prized due to their high quality construction and design.
The building was dark and huge as we entered, like a deep cave. The only sounds were the constant drips from leaks above as the rain kept up a constant barrage outside.The floor was nearly completely covered by an inch deep of water. We hopped from one dry patch to another but before long I was just trudging through the wetness, glad I had on my waterproof hiking boots but still the bottoms of my jeans were soaked, large circles of dark blue climbing up the backs of my legs.

 We strolled in and started shooting. And then after about 7 photos the battery in my camera died. I nearly screamed. The green light had shone on the charger when I had checked it last night and my spare batteries had been lost last weekend during my snow shots at Blandy. I was furious but there was no point in venting. Instead this would give me a chance to try out my new iPhone in low light, so all following photos are shot on that. I have also since purchased new camera batteries and a charger...

I amazed myself by not being supremely pissed off at my lack of technology. The phone was actually able to take relatively good images and it was just great to be out urbexing again after so many months absence. The lack of abandonments is saddening, we have to travel so far now to explore something new, and most of where we've been exist no longer, pummeled to the ground, converted into new businesses or residences, or simply so far gone that any interesting artifacts or architecture have either disintegrated with erosion or been destroyed by destructive hands.

Furbex, Margie's stuffed kitty, made an appearance, looking quite contented on a ledge by a broken window. The building was vast, most floors looking the same but I soon knuckled down, different views and perspectives catching my eye. It was a challenge to see things in a new way. A friend on Facebook likened the rooms with huge pillars to scenes on Gustave Dore engravings and I kind of saw where he was going, but was pleased I hadn't heard the reference before I came here, his etchings all possess an ominous quality.

The shot above was the only image that I wished I had my camera working. The area was dark so my phone couldn't capture the folds in this hanging plastic very well. The constant rain had formed large expanses of water on the floor, creating wonderful reflections that we all played around with. Richard had been here before on a sunny day, the sun's rays and blue skies enabling him to capture more vibrant and warmer shots than today's dreary and more dismal scenes. I peered out of broken panes onto peeling roofs, shards of glass sitting on the window ledges and scattered on the ground below. The only color in the building was the graffiti on the walls, columns and still hanging doors, vivid yellow and orange peels of paints curing downwards on old breaker boxes. Some of the square window panes had been painted in, as though someone had felt more color needed to be added to the drabness surrounding us.

Really liked this graffiti, it could be our motto.

All the levels of the building were vast open areas surrounded by walls of glass, much of it smashed and allowing in the miserable weather, a constant plopping of rain drops accompanying us wherever we went. Each floor also had a locker room but little had survived, the building had been cleared of all internal structure apart from the column supports. My enthusiasm was waning some when Margie scarpered away from a window towards me, a look of alarm that I'd never seen on her face before. She'd seen 4 men in the building opposite, which we though connected to ours, but wasn't sure of their status, whether they were security, homeless or simply explorers like us. Her anxiety flowed over towards me and I wondered if after my few months break from urbexing I'd lost my nerve. We decided to go downstairs while Emily and Richard continued to a higher floor.

But once outside we were soon bored and I was regretting our rushed departure. But regret turned to renewed enthusiasm when we discovered that the door to the power building was open. We snuck in and discovered a room that actually contained some machinery.

We walked around the rusting turbine and climbed up the metal stairs so we could see the machinery higher up. A galley led back to the main building but we didn't linger there. The others found us and soon we wrapped up our session as bellies growled and a yearning for craft beer consumed us all.

 A couple of hours later, with sated appetites, we were driving through the dark to return home, with an additional passenger, a huge loaf of bread that weighed the same as a small dog. It sat between the two front seats while we all tugged pieces from its hugeness to nibble on. Very heavy but very tasty!
 Plans were made for the Budd buildings to be converted into a commerce center. The company covered a huge tract of land, 75 acres, so this will be a massive undertaking. Budd was one of the city's largest manufacturers and 600 jobs were lost when it closed, yet over 1000 jobs will hopefully be created with the new development.
 A wonderful photo collection of Budd operations here.
Some lovely Budd advertisement paintings by Leslie Ragan, Part 1, and Part 2.