A Moose locked up in PA

On Saturday I met up with Emily, Margie and Andrew to drive up to Tyrone, PA for a day's urbexing. We were meeting a few other DCUE members at the Moose Lodge, a building now closed down and ready for urbexers like us to photograph. The Moose Fraternity started in 1888 in Louisville, Kentucky, as a social club that raised funds for charities, and spread across the U.S. This lodge was built in 1927 and strikes an imposing presence on the street, tall walls of red brick with detailed moose heads on two sides.

The door was open when we arrived, others from our group already inside, the sound of their shutters snapping away. The hallway was dark and cool, the instantly recognizable odor of mold wafting across to greet us. We pulled our cameras from our bags and without a word spread apart, walking in to different rooms to get down to business. Greetings were sent out and received within the dark rooms from friends I hadn't seen for a while as I tiptoed through the puddles on the floor.

The lodge was shut down 11 years ago. Membership had been declining and the manager had become involved with local kids selling drugs. Charlie, our host, who is the president of the borough council, said the town, like many others in the U.S. had a drug problem, but he was firm in voicing that the town was sorting it out. The decay had set in fast throughout the building. There was water on the floor in many of the rooms and in one were huge fluffy globs of black mold clinging to floor tiles and broken furniture. I didn't stay in there. Many of the gang were collected in the bar area, taking photos of a stuffed moose, opening ledgers to photograph historic details. or carefully arranging dusty dull glassware on the bar top for an atmospheric capture. The ceiling looked like it had once been padded and held up at intervals with huge studs, once upon a time looking like huge cushions with a button in the middle. Now the plastic hung down like huge flaps of skin. This feature was drawing a lot of interest from the group so I headed for upstairs which would be less crowded.

Only a few others had made their way up here and I settled down, getting back into the business of taking photos. It felt like eons since I'd last been urbexing and used my Sony camera. Most of my recent activities have warranted only using my compact camera so it felt good to size up my shots using the viewfinder rather than looking at a screen. I walked slowly across the floor, in some places dusty and yet only a few feet further were shallow puddles of collected rainwater from recent storms. The windows reflected in the puddles fascinated me, this would be my best photo of the day. Wooden floorboards had buckled and twisted, reminding me of the floors at Lebow Clothing Factory, from many moons ago when I was an urbexing novice. The intricate plaster cornices still clung to the edges of the ceiling and I wondered if they would be saved during the renovation. I was amazed to find battered cobwebs still clinging to the old wooden gavel and admired the huge painted ceiling roses that added beauty to the broken decay around us.

The kitchen was open to the elements on one side, old rusty food tins piled up by the sink, but the gorgeous wooden cupboards held my attention. Still filled with unbroken and neatly stacked china, much of which bore a Moose insignia. Later as some of us waited outside when we were done, others had exited holding plates in their arms. Charlie had very kindly allowed us to take some souvenirs. So I went back into the dark, walking slowly as my eyes adjusted from the bright sunshine. I picked up a teacup and saucer and a couple of small plates.

We all lined up out front for a group photo by Liz Roll. It had been an interesting shoot and looks like there will be future trips, judging by the wait list for today's event, a lot of folks had been unable to attend due to the day being capped at 20, which had actually been the perfect number for attendance, any more and it would have been crowded.
The large upper windows at the front had all been bricked in, a result of local kids throwing rocks and breaking the glass. Charlie told us the building will be renovated and transformed into a military museum. He's already received about 500 uniforms from other branches, some from WWI, even one from the Army Air Force. He's optimistic that the museum will be open within two years. He came across as a very determined gentleman. When one of our group asked about the building next door, Charlie explained that the YMCA had been a beautiful building but was torn down. The owner had not got the funds to renovate it and was told he had to demolish it or receive a daily fine of $1000 while it stood. Charlie informed us that the town rules had been changed since then. Looking about the quiet streets I noticed how clean it was and Charlie spoke proudly of the strong community spirit. I believed him, and will look forward to the development of the new museum.

After lunch our next stop was Bedford where Eric had set up a visit to explore the old county jail. Built in 1895 it was a jail for more than a century but is now a weaving business on the ground level, beautiful yarns in balls or hanging in loops from the walls. The owner wasn't able to let us stay long as she had a sick lamb to care for, so a quick half hour was all we had, we all sympathized with her, and secretly I wished I could have given up my time at the prison to go visit the lamb instead.

It was certainly intriguing to investigate the old prison area. It was just a short corridor with cells on either side, and then on the far side of the cells were narrow corridors again so the inmates didn't have direct access to the windows. The walls were daubed with crude artwork and written phrases. the others spent a while photographing these, capturing every wall, but they held little interest for me. The shadows cast on the old payphone were more appealing and I loved the old floor. I was glad we couldn't stay long, I'd taken all the shots I wanted within 15 minutes.

We climbed stairs to a stifling floor where once the probation officers had resided. When used as a jail only the sheriff's office had A.C, the cell block had one solitary fan to waft down the prisoner hallway. The rest of the building likely felt as it did today, hot with air so humid, it was difficult to breathe. Down in the basement is a huge domed brick oven, once used to bake the break for the inmates. There was once a Pittsburg mafia inmate kept here for his own protection, no doubt receiving better treatment than his peers, and likely a better diet than bread and water.
The Old Bedford prison is up for sale, now reduced to $399,000. so anyone interested in using this as a residence would be able to party like a jailbird, free crayons thrown in to decorate the walls!

Eric Brown took another group shot of us outside the building and then we drove to a couple of interesting attractions nearby in the town.

Dunkle's Gulf gas station, just down the road, dates back to 1933 and is beautifully decorated in the art deco style. Still functioning as a gas station, it is obviously meticulously maintained and was a gem to see up close, all the tiles looking like brand new. It's still operational as a gas station, the only place to gas up along the Lincoln Highway.

The Coffee Pot, was just around the corner. Although this was a wonderful oddity to see perched up on the hill, it was disappointing inside. We peered through the door window expecting to see tiny tables with colored or checkered tablecloths and a cute counter with coffee machines and lots of quaint artwork with historic photos, but no. Just an old pasting table was set up, a boring empty counter was on one side, and it certainly wasn't selling coffee any more. but at least it's been restored on the outside, it's certainly eye-catching!
Our little group parted from the others who were going to start on their way home. We decided to meander through rural roads to see if we could discover any other abandonments or wonderful sightings. We laughed at Margie who we briefly dropped off at a thrift store and then came back to find her rummaging in what looked like old battered boxes with equally suspect material inside. We chuckled as she walked to the car clutching a few pieces of clothing but then our jaws dropped in amazement as she casually announced the directions to a local chemical plant that was abandoned. She'd been chatting to the owner of the store who had readily given up this information and supplied what seemed to be detailed directions. Unfortunately, either all 4 of us weren't paying adequate attention or Margie had somehow not remembered all of the information but we didn't find the location. but that didn't really matter, the best part was how Margie had come up trumps while we were all sniggering.

A few miles down twisty windy roads Andrew spotted an old truck nestling low in tall grass on a hill. We climbed a dusty track, furrowed by past rains and discovered a small fleet of relics quietly rusting away. I regretted not wearing long trousers as I trudged through the vegetation, sharp brambles and thorns scratching my legs, and no doubt I was getting bitten too.A handsome Ebony Jewelwing dragonfly settled on large green leaves, showing off his splendor and allowing me close enough to take a photo. His brilliance was magnificent, so unfair that his lifespan as a flying adult is only about two weeks.

The sun was beginning to dip as we drove along Rte 30. Just as I slowed to stop for an old abandoned house, Andrew yelled out, pointing, excited to finally be able to stop and photograph the old building after years of driving past it. I thought it had once been a restaurant but after stepping inside it was apparent that it had been a residence. The floors were rotten towards the back but the stairs were fairly solid. Traffic was whizzing noisily past outside as we explored the hot, dusty bare rooms, but when this was first built the now busy road must have been just a quiet, narrow horse lane that passed by. The views out the back were outstanding, looking through the trees at a vast valley with mountains in the background, now in pastels of pink, peach and blue. We took photos in the golden light and stood, just admiring the scenery and trying to imagine how wonderful it must have been to eat dinner or enjoy a beverage while having such a stunning landscape outside the huge windows.

Further down the road we stopped at an old Shell service station in Mercersburg, PA.

 I was shocked to see the scene above which I captured from Google Street View. The historic renovation could only have been done in very recent years. what a transformation!
While searching online for information on the building I came across this poignant article of a resident who'd been asked to write about his childhood in the town during the 40's and 50's. I got lost in it for a while, very well written.

My last photo of the day was of another old empty house on the way home. The neighbors next door were having an outdoor function but took no notice of us as we wandered  around the outside looking for a way in. But peering through the windows revealed an uninteresting interior so we took our last shots as the light faded, enjoying the coolness of the tall grass and fragrant creeping charlie as we crouched down for our photos, Fireflies slowly began to dance around us and began to sparkle and flicker a farewell as we left for the final leg home.

Feasting with Fireworks and a Formidable Fence

With my back still suffering I resigned myself to a lazy weekend. This was frustrating since for the first time in ages we were expecting perfect outdoor weather conditions. Sunny and bright, with no humidity, and a gentle breeze keeping the days cool, it was a weekend ideal for hiking, cycling or kayaking. But I had to be sensible, especially after last weekend's endeavors to be active, and so stayed at home for the most part, throwing open all windows and doors, enabling the cool breeze to waft throughout the house, and inevitably also allowing small sneaky squatters to march in and take up residence, whether my back was turned or not. I couldn't believe the brazenness of large hornets, spiders and even a mouse who thought my home was an open house in need of some additional occupants. I spent quite a bit of time evicting these illegal tenants and eventually ended up with a glass jar and sheet of paper permanently next to me, ready to expel any sneaky trespassers. Rosie Lee was of no assistance whatsoever, preferring to stretch out next to me or snooze just outside the patio door, from where she'd hear any rustling of treat bags, which she expected at any moment, judging by her ears constantly twitching towards me, but most definitely couldn't hear or see any critter that crossed the threshold in front of her.
Watching England win their quarter final match against Sweden in the Football world Cup was a perfect way to spend part of the day, and I'm sure all my neighbors shared in my joy as my squeals and screams no doubt carried on that lovely breeze across the hill top and into their open windows. But I cared not,  the boys from Blighty deserved a few joyous howls from across the pond. Besides I needed to expend some energy, these days of restrictive back pain were taking a toll. I so badly wanted to go kayaking but dragging and lifting a 60lb boat from the barn and up onto Stanley would have been asking for trouble, so I regretfully declined. It's really bothering me, this aging lark. I often shock and berate myself on the now too regular 'common sense' decisions I'm making. My youthful recklessness is sadly slowly slinking away and I lament its departure.
But I did have something to look forward to this weekend. My friend Bill and his partner Jen had invited me to a 4th July Fireworks party on Saturday evening. It was the usual 'bring a dish and beer' party and I was looking forward to seeing the guests I'd met at the last party, they had been a great crowd.

 Their house was once again looking gorgeous, decorated with patriotic bunting and the porch trimmed with pretty lights that Jen's dad had installed. Mr Snuggles, their very friendly and elderly black cat waited in the kitchen for head strokes and cuddles. He's black and made me think of Trixie, a big black female cat that I applied to adopt on Friday night through Fancy Cats. A local resident had been trying to find new homes for a few of her cats after a house fire but after getting an FIV positive result on the cat I'd chosen, I decided to go through the proper channels rather than put Rosie Liscious Lee at risk. So after stopping and chatting with my vet on the way home from work, I'd looked on the website and seen Trixie, with URGENT next to her name.

After opening a beer I went round to the side of the house where Bill was busing at the BBQ, cooking up great grub as always and sporting... a shower cap? He carried it off well while Jen hid behind his back. I looked around at the guests and only recognized two of them but was very soon acquainted with the others, always very friendly people here. It was a small group and I soon got to know them. Then I suddenly became aware of the hugely massive fencing around the vegetable garden; this had not been here last time. It was like a POW camp, my eyes traveled along its perimeter expecting to see flood lights and sentry towers, or barbed electrified wire. It was impressive and would certainly protect the veggie plants from all those little bunnies and ground hogs. Jen said that she'd seen a deer run straight into it, surprised at its sudden appearance,  it had been completed in a day. It was the coolest fencing I'd ever seen for a vegetable plot, it was amazing. We got Bill to pose in his plant prison for a laugh.
We sat and chatted, eating burgers and hot dogs from the grill. The weather was incredible, the lack of humidity with a slow breeze buffeting us was a joy. Perfect conditions for a BBQ. As dusk began to slide down the sky we grouped together, grabbing fold up chairs, blankets and flashlights, then walked the short distance to Bill and Jen's neighbors, who were providing the fireworks. Their house sat atop a hill, looking down onto grassy slopes with a large pond at the bottom. At the back of the house was a huge stone courtyard, filled with guests, a fire pit blazing brightly, and more food on tables with ice buckets holding wine and beers. We were greeted with a huge hug from our hostess and then, after grabbing a drink, set up our chairs on the grass.

We chuckled at how straight our seating line was, perfectly lined up. It was pure bliss to sit there, with a blanket wrapped around my legs to ward off the mosquitoes, a hint of crispness in the air, while sipping on a glass of rosé and waiting for the show to start. And we didn't have to wait long. The sky darkened quickly, soft orange and pink hues blending into the indigo twilight and then the headlights of a golf cart bumped along the water's edge, stopping by a tall tree. A single light moved back and forth and then with a loud fizz and an orange spark the fireworks erupted.

I only had my little G7Xii to take photos. No tripod, and I didn't keep the shutter open. I just clicked and clicked, hoping some good shots would emerge. And although they were not the standard that my Sony would have produced, these were better than expected. Oohs and aahs, claps and yells and hollers filled the air along with the bright colors. At some points the whole sky was filled with rainbow hues and flashes, just as good as any professional show, and here we were, in comfy chairs with a big glass of wine and only a 5 minute walk to get here. We were pretty sure that it was just one guy down there setting these off on his own and he did pretty well. Better than some towns' efforts we declared. In between bursts of bangs and flashes, the sky grew dark again and we could make out a small cloud of smoke suspended over the water, the wonderful aroma of gunpowder slowly drifting up the hill towards us. Our host continued with his show, the end apparent when the headlights of his golf cart lit up and then bumped and bounced back towards us. We all cheered and yelled and clapped, hoping he could hear us above the engine noise of his cart, and then we folded up our chairs, our little crowd walking back to Bill and Jenn's house while others disappeared around the back of our host's house to continue partying.

Back at the house, Bill made Bellinis, a champagne and peach purée drink, fizzy, sharp and sweet, delicious. We waved sparklers and enjoyed a bowl of homemade strawberry ice cream. The evening had cooled so the fire pit felt divine, a treat to enjoy the flames' warmth in July. The day had been absolutely perfect for Bill and Jen's party, no dark clouds sullying the horizon or sticky dampness in the air. It was only a day later that my arms and legs developed the huge itchy welts, trophy sites of those damn mosquitoes, so craftily elusive that I hadn't been aware of even one bite. But it had been worth it and for the next few days I would be smelling of lavender oil, the latest 'de-itcher' solution I'm trying out!

Blistering Biking and Beers in Baltimore

I'd spent nearly all week off work and flat on my back, swallowing heavy duty painkillers as avidly as an addict and trying, when able, to work from home. I have no idea how I put my back out but it's been agony and very foolishly I thought a bike ride would solve the problem. I was meeting up with Richard and Emily to cycle Gwynns Falls Trail in Baltimore, and not having seen them for a while, and also knowing beer would be consumed at some point, I had no intention of letting a few bruised vertebrae stop my fun. I was in desperate need of some enjoyment after 4 days of sleeping, watching rubbish TV and having Rosie Lee lay on me at every possible moment. It took me a while to pump up the bike tires and load it into the back of Stanley the night before and I fretted if I was really doing the right thing. But the next morning I could walk almost upright to the kitchen and excitedly drove to our meeting point.

 All the bikes were loaded on to the back of Richard's car and I was glad to have the back seat to myself so I could fidget about as my back started twinging and even lay down if absolutely necessary, but I didn't want to do this and advertise my discomfort. I was glad when we finally got on the bikes. I loved that my jewelry and nails matched the Green Genie but I was even more ecstatic when I stretched out to hold my handlebars, noting immediately how good my back felt in the riding position. I hoped this would last the ride. The total mileage would be 28 miles and I was feeling optimistic. Richard put a white handkerchief on his head under his helmet to avoid sunburn through the latticed openings, making me giggle as I mentally pictured the pretty pattern it would have made on his noggin.

We started alongside the Patapsco River, passing a lady painting on the grass while a guy with headphones was strumming an electric guitar. Then we were cruising along Baltimore roads, following train tracks and enabling me to take a photo of the Baltimore chimney. I've passed this so many times over the years when driving on I95, but never had the opportunity to grab a photo, so it was fabulous to get up close and personal today. It felt great to stretch my back, the aches and pains disappeared as I leaned over the frame, the first time in days that I was pain free, but whenever we stopped it hurt to dismount so I tried to stay mobile.

  There was a beer festival setting up as we pedaled past tents and kegs. I stopped at seeing what looked like the Liberty Bell, but was in fact a bell to commemorate the 52 Marylanders who'd lost their lives in Afghanistan. I wasn't quite sure why it was here but was glad I'd seen it. We also admired a huge mural on a building by the site. It was getting incredibly hot so pausing for too long wasn't an option. At least while we were moving we could feel a breeze but staying stationery the sun's heat felt like my skin was going to crisp up and start peeling. It was intense with the humidity so thick it was like standing in a cloud of water vapor when we were still.

 We passed through quiet streets after the Ravens stadium, old buildings, some derelict, that warranted a detour up streets to see if any could be accessed. I wasn't too enthusiastic about urbexing today, the less walking I did the better, but it's always good to scout for future trips. Montgomery Park is an impressive building. Now redeveloped we had tried to enter it unsuccessfully many years ago while it was abandoned. An iconic art deco warehouse, it's been beautifully restored.

We left the busy streets and started riding on a trail following a creek. Initially, it was ugly, the previous flood damage apparent with every tree on the banks littered with torn plastic bags hanging from their branches, tattered and torn ugly pennants displaying Baltimore's pollution problem. Bottles and cans were caught up in the lower branches with broken twigs and grasses. I often got whiffs of the rotting trash that made me wrinkle my nose, so sad to see nature desecrated like this. Somebody had been fly tipping, leaving a pile of mattresses and chairs. The only time I smelled something pleasant was when another cyclist puffed past me, leaving a cloud of aftershave in his wake, he'd likely only just started his ride. He too seemed to be lacking in power as he weaved up a small hill. Emily spotted a great blue heron which astounded us, it seemed little could live in the putrid water. We kept pedaling but about 4 miles from the end of the trail, my energy was waning. I suppose after 4 days of pain and heavy pain meds my body wasn't performing well. I started feeling chilled and dizzy so had to stop under a shady tree where I dropped to the cool grass and laid out to ease my back. I had no energy, which really annoyed me, but I had to admit defeat. I told Richard and Emily to continue without me and I would start my on way back to the car. I even thought that I might have to call an Uber car to take me and the bike back to the parking lot but I started off on the return trip, hoping to make it on my own steam.

I hadn't realized until making my way back that we had actually been riding up a gradual incline most of the way so the return trip was much easier. I stopped for water breaks and strangely felt a lot better, wondering if maybe I could have made it to the end with them after all. Flocks of robins fluttered across the trail, squawking under the trees, likely new adult birds who were still expecting to be fed by their parents. There were very few people using the trail, but I was glad to be outdoors instead of cooped up inside, despite my surroundings not being the usual beautiful scenery I'm accustomed too on my rides and hikes, and for the probably millionth time I counted my blessings at living in the countryside.

As I once again entered the city streets I passed few pedestrians,hardly anyone was out. There was an Orioles game playing at the nearby stadium and I wondered if the locals were indoors with their cool AC blasting, chugging down icy beers while watching TV sets. I was tempted to knock on the door of the Ravens house just to see, they were obviously die hard Baltimore sports fans.

This used to be Bayard Street Station. It's now an architectural salvage store, so wonderful to see that its current owners have restored it to its full glory, looking just as it used to when it was a gas works.

I did lose my way for a bit, not concentrating on the green markers below me on curbs and the road, and had to backtrack when I found myself passing signs for the interstate. I stopped while a train passed, pulling at least a thousand empty carriages, or at least that was what it seemed like as I baked and sweated under the relentless sun, and then slogged my way through almost empty streets. There are so many railroad tracks crossing the streets of Baltimore that I lost count of how many I passed over. The sun beating down felt hotter than the heat from an oven and I was a very happy camper when I finally arrived back at the parking lot. I had cycled about 18 miles while Richard and Emily clocked up about 26.

My back was very sore, screaming out to be in a horizontal position. A couple of trees offered shade on a grassy bank. Under one was a flock of about 12 ducks, resting and quacking quietly among themselves. I pushed my bike slowly and carefully past them, to claim the second tree. They looked at me but realized I was no threat and so carried on dozing. I collapsed on to my back, relishing the cool, hard ground through my shirt. But my pleasure was short lived. After only a minute or so I became a smorgasbord for biting flies who persistently nipped at my arms and legs. Smothering my skin with a thick greasy layer of sunscreen only kept them away for a few more minutes, and then they were biting me through my clothes. I was so pleased to see the others when they showed up.

We drove to a brewery nearby which was celebrating its opening that day. Unfortunately the beer was unimpressive. But the brewery did have a lovely monarch butterfly on its wall, like the one I'd painted on Friday evening.

Unfortunately I soon became restless. The taproom was packed with people, loud voices drowning out any chance of conversation between us and no seats available. My back was screaming in pain but I said nothing, just swaying from foot to foot until we finally escaped back to the car. We drove to nearby Ellicott City to inspect the recent flood damage but the town was closed off.

We peered through the chain link fencing, noting the FEMA markings on the buildings where they'd inspected each house and store for damage and possible bodies. I have never visited this town before but wondered if now I'd ever get the chance to see it properly. The poor inhabitants have had too many floodings and I'm sure there's many who don't have the resources or incentive to rebuild once again what they had only just recently restored after the 2016 floods. Some say that because there has been so much development since 1984 the increase of paved roads and buildings has deterred natural drainage, but others are adamant that because of the towns geographical location and climate change the floods are unavoidable.
We left the town, having to drive back into Baltimore to hopefully pick up Richard's bike wheel. He'd taken it off to load our bikes on to his bike frame but had then driven off, leaving the wheel in the parking lot. We were ecstatic to see it still laying there when we returned a good hour later, in perfect condition. Our final stop was the new Guinness Brewery in Baltimore, the first in the United States since the 50's.

We tried samples of most of the beers they offered but again I wasn't overly impressed, preferring the original recipe. Maybe my enthusiasm was waning due to my poor back. At least this time I had a seat but I was itching to lay down on the floor and stretch out my compressed vertebrae. The cold concrete floor looked so inviting. I kept silent, not wanting to sully the others' enjoyment, and soldiered on for the sake of beer! My favorite photo of the day was of a black vulture we spotted in the window of an abandoned house we stopped at. Richard, to my relief, decided we shouldn't enter in case she had eggs she was protecting. I'm sure the burning sun and humidity played a large part in his lack of enthusiasm to explore but Emily and I didn't complain, and she was left in peace. It was late at night when I eventually got home and my memory foam mattress with the AC blowing over me never felt so good. Despite the aches I'd enjoyed the day, the pain definitely taking a back seat as far as enjoying the company of friends was concerned. I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but maybe a little sojourn at Meadow House first...