Will and I went on a walk this morning in search of a park that looked pleasant (large and with a body of water) on our maps, and which, we hoped, might be suitable for a barbeque. We had no luck on the barbeque front (may end up using our back porch unless Miks can find a place), but the trip was not for nothing. The area that is labeled on our maps as a park is actually a post-apocalyptic landscape of abandoned buildings that are being reclaimed by nature. It was so, so cool (Joles, remember when we were on the way to the apartment and drove past what looked like nuclear reactors that were covered in vines? This is the place). The "park" is surrounded by chainlink fence topped with barbed wire, but we came upon an gate that was open. Inside, we found lots and lots of these tall, gently curved cylindrical towers covered in vines, which seem to have been used for water storage. Each tower had an area underneath it that was like a hobbit house, with curved concrete walls and round windows. It was pleasant in the shade, and I want to live there.
In addition to the towers, we found two almost identical brick buildings with arched windows and old wooden doors. The glass was broken out of all the windows, and vines had forced their way through the screens and were slowly tearing them apart. Inside the buildings were several deep holes in the ground, some with what seem to be giant rulers to measure water level. But most of the holes we couldn't figure out the purpose of. There were giant rusted wheels that no longer turn, and five or six water meter-type things on the walls. We're guessing that this place was last in use in the mid-twentieth century.
As you've probably concluded from the descriptions above, this seems to be part of a reservoir/water treatment operation which still exists on an adjoining piece of property. But the thing we really couldn't figure out were the underground bunkers. Each tower had a corresponding gate into the underworld. There was a ramp leading down to a sandy floor that was punctuated by concrete columns supporting the earth above. It was dark down there, but we could see pretty far in front of us, and there was no visible end to the space. The bottoms of columns were stained green, suggesting that there might have been water down there. We didn't explore very far, because we didn't have a flashlight, and because, um, some of the columns looked like interesting subjects for Stolk's Failure class.
There was a team of gardeners engaged in a futile battle against nature, and on our way out I asked one of them if he knew anything about what this place used to be. He didn't. Also found out that, sadly, the gate is normally locked, so this was probably a one-time opportunity. But wow, it was cool. Urban ruins. I really wish Patrick could see them.
[Note: I just googled the place, and it was apparently a sand filtration site (to filter water, not sand. Will.) built in 1905 and in use for 81 years. It's now a historic site. I'm kicking myself for not having a camera with me, because it was beautiful, but I found some pictures online of when it was less overgrown. The middle two are by Danny Fowler, and the other two are by Christopher Leary.]
In addition to the towers, we found two almost identical brick buildings with arched windows and old wooden doors. The glass was broken out of all the windows, and vines had forced their way through the screens and were slowly tearing them apart. Inside the buildings were several deep holes in the ground, some with what seem to be giant rulers to measure water level. But most of the holes we couldn't figure out the purpose of. There were giant rusted wheels that no longer turn, and five or six water meter-type things on the walls. We're guessing that this place was last in use in the mid-twentieth century.
As you've probably concluded from the descriptions above, this seems to be part of a reservoir/water treatment operation which still exists on an adjoining piece of property. But the thing we really couldn't figure out were the underground bunkers. Each tower had a corresponding gate into the underworld. There was a ramp leading down to a sandy floor that was punctuated by concrete columns supporting the earth above. It was dark down there, but we could see pretty far in front of us, and there was no visible end to the space. The bottoms of columns were stained green, suggesting that there might have been water down there. We didn't explore very far, because we didn't have a flashlight, and because, um, some of the columns looked like interesting subjects for Stolk's Failure class.
There was a team of gardeners engaged in a futile battle against nature, and on our way out I asked one of them if he knew anything about what this place used to be. He didn't. Also found out that, sadly, the gate is normally locked, so this was probably a one-time opportunity. But wow, it was cool. Urban ruins. I really wish Patrick could see them.
[Note: I just googled the place, and it was apparently a sand filtration site (to filter water, not sand. Will.) built in 1905 and in use for 81 years. It's now a historic site. I'm kicking myself for not having a camera with me, because it was beautiful, but I found some pictures online of when it was less overgrown. The middle two are by Danny Fowler, and the other two are by Christopher Leary.]
Comments
Joles
Thanks, Dan