Archive for the ‘overgrown’ Category

Last Looks

The Abandoned South Weymouth Naval Air Station

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

We lost a dear friend of ours two weeks ago. It still hurts thinking about him. We’d known him for over ten years, and I personally worked with him on over a hundred different movies/commercials/TV shows/live performances/etc. So this piece is dedicated to Special Effects wizards, friend of the site, and all around stand-up guy Skippy. I hadn’t seen him since the pandemic started. The last time I saw him, we were working together on a short film up in Worcester, MA. But the sad part is, I had no idea that this would be the last time we’d see each other. It makes my heart break, wishing I had known, and wishing I had told him how good of a friend he was to both Lassie and I. It’s an unsettling fact that many of us take for granted. Whenever you spend time with someone, you very well could be seeing them for the last time. And you’d have no idea. Life moves so slow sometimes. But when it moves fast, it’s amazing how much you can lose in the blink of an eye. So to everyone reading this, I have a homework assignment for you. A dare, even. Reach out to someone you haven’t talked to in awhile. You never know how much hearing from you might mean to them. And always make sure your friends and loved ones know how you feel. Don’t leave things left unsaid. You never know when you might be seeing them for the last time.

This month’s subject is something that’s been on our list for a very long time. But since it was so far away, we just never found the time to go see it. But with a film premiere in Boston, we decided to take a pit stop on our way up. This is the abandoned South Weymouth Naval Air Station. This place is legendary amongst our community, and for good reason. There’s honestly too much history here to fit into one little paragraph, so I would like to take this opportunity to give a shout-out to another friend of the site, Jason Allard. He is an absolute pro, and his “Abandoned From Above” series is one of our favorite things to watch. A couple of months ago, he did a fabulous video on this place that I cannot recommend it enough. Here is the link – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_tpCtUOkCb0 And if you have time, please do give him a subscribe. If you’re in New England, he does some of the best work we’ve ever seen. But if you prefer to read, here are some quick facts. The base was first opened during the early days of WWII. It’s main claim to fame was being the main headquarters of the US Navy’s anti-submarine blimp division. During the Cold War, it transitioned into a more traditional airfield focused around homeland defense. The base was unfortunately forced to close it’s doors for good in the late 1990’s due to military budget cuts.

The defunct air base now lies spanning across the towns of Abington, Weymouth, and Rockland. And her former territory is slowly being taken over. Apartment buildings and construction keep creeping closer and closer to the property. Last year, arsonists burned down several of the smaller buildings on the far side of the base. Now all that stands are the two derelict control towers and a few small hangar bays. It was over a mile trekking across the old runway to get to our destination. Though the sky was grey, the tips of the towers began to peak through the treeline. And I can tell you know, the towers are breathtaking. Like I said earlier, there are two towers. Orange and White. Orange Tower is the first one to greet you on the trail. It is the older of the two, has a strong military atheistic, and is in the worst shape. Broken glass, watermelon rinds, and empty spray paint bottles coat the ground. The tower casts a long, grim shadow over the land. Though we were able to get inside, we did not climb to the top of this one. The staircase is easily accessible, but its steps are absolutely rusted to Hell. They are coated in graffiti, and most are now just flimsy/jagged metal that look like they could collapse at any moment. So we unfortunately had to enjoy Orange Tower from the ground. But even from down here, it is truly a sight to behold.

White Tower, on the other hand, is a completely different animal. Unlike Orange Tower, this one was never actually used. The base was shut down before construction could be completed. It has a more modern look and feel to it. Almost like something you’d see at an airport, as opposed to a military base. Lying a few dozen yards down the path, this grand monolith stands tall and foreboding against the cold sky. What I found most unusual about White Tower is that it appears to be much more untouched than its counterpart. With Orange Tower, stuff was all over the ground. Graffiti was everywhere. It feels absolutely trashed. Though clearly scarred by her more vicious visitors, the spirit of White Tower still appears to be quite strong. As if only the brave or the stupid continue forward to see it. Well, we were both today, because we climbed all the way to the top of this old guardian. We went up floor after floor, witnessing true urban decay and destruction everywhere we looked. Unlike Orange Tower, the stairs were quite sturdy. Clearly not too much stuff had been left behind either. Though whenever we did come across some old relics, they had been absolutely destroyed. We even got a peak down the old elevator shaft. And once we finally reached the top, the view is quite grand. A mist was in the air, and we could see all across Eastern Massachusetts.

As I mentioned earlier, there are a few smaller hangar bays still left standing on the far side of the base. But there really isn’t too much to see here. They are absolutely coated in graffiti and filled to the brim with garbage. Probably because they are much closer to the road and much easier to access than the two towers. During our long walk back to the car, I would periodically turn around and look back at White and Orange peaking through the treetops. They grew smaller and less visible the farther we moved away. Eventually, they completely disappeared from sight. Vanishing amongst the thick treeline and fading sunlight. It made me a little bit sad knowing that I would probably never see them again. With the continuing development of the land and the persistent vandal problem, it’s hard to say just how much longer these old warhorses have left. Time will tell. But I would highly recommend a visit to any experienced urban explorers. This place is definitely not for beginners, tourists, or the faint of heart. As always, I encourage any potential visitors to please be safe and respectful. The abandoned South Weymouth Naval Air Station is truly an amazing place, and let’s try to keep it that way for as long as possible. It’s an adventure that I will certainly never forget, and a place that I hope to someday see again. But until that day comes, goodbye for now.

Time Flies – The Abandoned Leicester Airport

Posted: August 25, 2021 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Airport, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Business, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Highway, Abandoned House, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Pennsylvania, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Restaurant, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Road, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Broken, Closed, commercial, Connecticut, darkness, Death, Destruction, Exploration, exploring the abandoned, Forgotten, Haunting, Hiking, History, Information, left behind, lost, Massachusetts, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, New Hampshire, New York, overgrown, Pennsylvania, photography, research, Rhode Island, Ruins, Safety First, Searching, Stories, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, writing
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Time Flies

The Abandoned Leicester Airport

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Is it August already? Shit. Last time I checked summer had just started. And now it’s about to end. How did we get here? How did things end up like this? Where are we heading? Who knows anymore. As they say, time flies. When I was a boy, that was the title of my favorite book: Time Flies. It was only a few pages long and there were no words. It was quite large for a book, probably meant for teachers showing it to their wide-eyed students during circle time. The story followed a small bird that flies into a museum late at night through an open window. The bird soars through the large auditoriums past many different skeletons of dinosaurs long since passed. But as the bird flies by, these dinosaurs all slowly come back to life. One by one. It is as if the bird is flying back in time. Some try to eat the bird. Others just marvel at the miracle of being alive. But as the bird flies on, the dinosaurs each begin to return to their skeletal forms. And before you know it, the sun has risen and the museum has returned to normal. Almost like none of it ever happened. That’s how I feel sometimes when we go exploring. For a brief moment in time, it feels like these skeletal abandoned places come back to life. We get a glimpse as to what things were once like for them. But then it all passes like a fleeting shadow. And all things return to their bitter state.

Our subject for the final month of summer 2021 is the abandoned Leicester Airport. A reader tipped us off about this place a few months ago, suggesting that we check it out soon as the buildings were slowly collapsing. Located in Leicester, Massachusetts, this was a privately owned airport that was in operation between 1940 and 1970. There were three airfields in operation around the area at this time, including Oxford and Worcester. It was used both as a commercial and personal airfield. Features included a unique dual runway system, a single hangar bay, and a private office building for airport staff. I have yet to find a reason as to why the airport was shuttered. I know we have quite a few fans that live in the area, so if anyone reading this would like to share some info/stories we’d love to hear them. But my guess is that being in such close proximity to two other airfields, only one of which is still in operation today, contributed to it’s downfall. From what I’ve been able to find out online, the grounds almost came back to life a few times after its closure. The facility was re-opened and rebranded as a bar at least once over the years. And while all stories I’ve heard about it have been positive, it was not meant to be. And sooner or later, these establishments closed up shop as well. Again, if anyone has any stories, please do share.

We have been on a quest this year. Ever since I created our “Locations by State” page, which you should definitely check out, I noticed how lopsided our reporting was. We had plenty of locations in Connecticut, but not so much in our neighboring states. And so, we’ve been trying to get out and about as much as possible. This month, we once again found ourselves in Massachusetts. I’ve spent a lot of time up here this year working on film stuff. And I can honestly say at this point that we’ve covered damn near every inch of the southern part of the state. We made our trip up to Leicester on a grey Tuesday. We both had the day off, and it’s always best to go exploring during the week if you can. There’s much less people around, you see? It was a quiet ride up. We’ve been hitting a lot of places in Worcester County recently. And it can be a really underrated area during this time of year. Pulling up to the abandoned airport was a little challenging. The old runway/parking lot is no longer accessible by car. So you just kind of have to squeeze your ride onto a small bumpy pull-off. Luckily the neighborhood is nice and chill. Nobody was around or seemed to be bothered by us. And the road was not very heavily trafficked. We took a quick look around, made sure the coast was clear, and then made our way inside of the abandoned airport.

Remember how one of our readers tipped us off about this place? Saying how it was collapsing? Well, friends, they were absolutely right. There is not too much of the abandoned Leicester Airport left to see. We walked as much of the old runway as we could. But the pavement is quite cracked and uneven. It runs long and deep into the woods, before dead-ending at some local farmland. Parking spaces, which must’ve been from the airfield’s days as bar, have also been painted all over the place towards the front. An old wooden sign still stands by the street, but we couldn’t quite make out the name on it. The main hangar has almost completely caved in on its self. A bit of it still stands, but I wouldn’t recommend going inside. The doors and windows are full of dust and cobwebs. The floor is rickety and shoddy. Ancient shelving rusts into oblivion. Pieces of roofing and debris now create a total gridlock amongst the abandoned grounds. It is near impassible. All kinds of junk and old machinery can be found amongst the rubble. The office building has been almost completely swallowed up by vines and vegetation. Yet it still holds a few relics within its walls. Everything reminded me very much of Centralia, Pennsylvania. You know, the real life Silent Hill. And though the abandoned airport was as quiet as a tomb, it looks like it had just been blown to Hell.

Like I said earlier, it’s hard to believe it’s August already. Why is it that summer always goes by so fast? It felt like just yesterday school was out and the good times were in. But in the blink of an eye, everything changes. Pretty soon we’ll be beginning our slow decent into the Fall. And before you know it, 2021 will be over and another year will be gone. I honestly would not recommend the abandoned Leicester Airport for a visit. I’m glad we got to see it, but the property just changes too fast. It’s too vulnerable. Things just keep collapsing and falling apart. For all I know, the whole place could be gone by now. Walking through it’s long forgotten grounds was like a brisk walk through this place’s past. Relics from each of it’s many different eras still stand as grim reminders. The old runway still stands, though it eventually gives way to a parking lot. A crumbling hangar stands now as nothing more than a twisted jigsaw puzzle of rubble. A wooden bar signs still hangs as a greeting, though it has been swallowed up by the rage of the forest. I am once again reminded of the small bird from the children’s book. There are still glimpses of what this place once was. But they are merely passing shadows. The past is gone. Reality is lost. The sands of the hourglass cannot be stopped. For as they say, time sure does fly. And if you are not careful, it just might take off without you.

I’m Not Okay

The Garden of Sweet Remembrance

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

I want to talk about something important today. Yeah, I know. This is supposed to be a blog about abandoned places and urban exploring. That’s what you all come here to read about. But this is also a personal blog. I try to share my experiences and life lessons with anyone who cares to listen. If reading my words was enough to help just one person, that’s all I’ve ever wanted. We’ve had a lot of readers reach out over the last year telling us how much our work means to them. And there is no greater compliment to us than that. Especially considering how rough last year was. And so today’s piece is going to be a little different. I get one of these a year, so please bare with me. If this isn’t for you, I won’t be offended if you stop reading or unsubscribe. You have that right. I want to talk today about mental health. It’s something that I personally have struggled with for a long time. And I know that a lot of us here feel the same way. I advocate for mental health awareness whenever I can. We’ve all either had our issues with mental health or know someone who does. It’s never easy to talk about. Sometimes it can be down right terrifying. No matter how hard we try, there will always be this stigma around mental health. We’ve made a lot of progress in the last few years, but some still have a hard time accepting that it’s okay to not be okay.

And so allow me to introduce our July investigation: The Garden of Sweet Remembrance. Located in the town of Shrewsbury, Massachusetts, this place was once the lavish home of one of the area’s most prominent businessmen. Matthew J. Whittall was the owner of the property, and christened it Juniper Hall. There was a vast estate to behold, but the garden was the true jewel in the crown. Mr. Whittall and his wife were so very proud of their garden that they invited all manners of the public to tour it whenever they pleased. But like the blooming flowers, nothing lasts forever. The proprietor and founder passed away in 1929. The garden’s pergola was dedicated to him by his widow and christened the name “The Garden of Sweet Remembrance.” Following Mr. Whittall’s passing, the mansion changed hands several times before finally being demolished after years of abandonment. All that remains of this once lavish wonderland are the old pergola and the once flourishing garden. The property remained this way for many years. The weeds and vines grew wild, overtaking this once sacred place. But it was never truly forgotten. A small movement grew and grew to eventually restore the property and garden to their former glory. Now, what remains of the property has been revived and resides in Shrewsbury’s Prospect Park.

This, once again, was my birthday investigation. I always try to explore something on my birthday. It’s just a great way to spend the day away from the world with my partner Lassie. Doing what we love. I wasn’t quite sure what we were going to find at The Garden of Sweet Remembrance. I had received a tip about it a few months ago, but found conflicting information on the web. The land had been lost for a long time. And though the movement dedicated to it’s upkeep has grown over the years, vandalism has still continued to scar the face of the iconic pergola. So we decided to go take a look. It was a sunny Saturday afternoon. We usually NEVER go exploring on Saturdays (too many people out and about) but, it was my birthday after all. So, what the Hell, right? We arrived at Prospect Park as the only visitors. There is still a grand stone archway at the entrance with a brand new sign. There are trail maps and well marked paths throughout the grounds. The garden itself is a relatively short walk down one of these paths. All throughout the woods, there are old relics marking what this park once was. Old fire hydrants rust into oblivion. Ghostly power poles blend in amongst the fading trees. And there is a certain mystique in the air here. But once you arrive at the garden, this slightly mystical place truly comes back to life.

I haven’t used the word “abandoned” in the title or tags of this article for a reason. Because it’s clearly not. The garden itself is truly alive and well. Flowers and all kinds of plant life burst through the fertile soil. It has also become a collection point for painted rocks from people all across New England. The pergola, on the other hand, stands at the far back of the garden. It’s presence looms like a great shadow of both remembrance and sorrow. The wooden roof has collapsed all together. The blue sky floods in like a ship taking on water. The foundation crumbles slightly, yet never wavers. Graffiti adorns the outer shell, but the words “GARDEN OF SWEET REMEMBRANCE” still stand strong. But what makes this place so special are the names. On certain pillars of the pergola, and some of the painted rocks, the names of people have been painted. Out of respect for the families, I will not name these names here. But what I can tell you is that each of these names are victims of suicide. Most were just teenagers. We even found a bundle of old roses left beside one of the names. This garden has clearly once again found it’s home as a place of remembrance. It brought about a mix of both sadness and spirituality seeing them. It shows that no matter what, it is the job of those of us left behind to carry on the memory of those we’ve lost.

Like I said in my introduction, this place is not going to be for everyone. It isn’t one that we usually cover and was not what we were expecting at all. But honestly, I am happy to be proven wrong. And while this post goes against most of what we post here, I would highly recommend the Garden of Sweet Remembrance to all of our readers. Not for adventure or thrill-seeking. But for reflection. It really is a beautiful place. Seeing the names on the walls of the pergola and on the painted rocks was a very moving experience. I lost one close friend to suicide five years ago this summer. His name was Troy. He was an actor like me. And I think about him everyday. It’s always hard to process losing someone like that. Much like these beautiful flowers, we are all slowly fading away. That’s why we always have to remember to keep ourselves well and to keep those we’ve lost in our memories. The Garden of Sweet Remembrance’s history reminded me a lot of the struggles we all go through everyday. There were good times. There were bad times. There were times where all hope seemed to be lost. But with a little bit of help, this place came back to life. And always remember, it’s okay to not be okay. Never be afraid to ask for a little help. If you, or anyone you know, is struggling with mental health issues, please check out the list below.

Find a Therapist, Psychologist, Counselor – http://www.psychologytoday.com/therapists

Suicide Prevention Hotline – https://suicidepreventionlifeline.org

The Trevor Project – http://www.thetrevorproject.org

Mental Health America – http://www.mhanational.org

Feeding the Birds

The Abandoned Batterson Park

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Last September, we finally moved out of the city. It was something I had been looking forward to for a long time. Not just because of Covid, or the ever increasing crime rate. I just really missed the woods. I missed looking out my front door and seeing trees. I missed waking up to the sounds of birds singing. I missed looking up at the stars on dark nights. You get none of that in the city. One thing we started doing again was feeding the birds. In the city, you basically get the same batch of shrewd little birds day in and day out. But we thought, now that we’re out in the country, we might finally get some interesting avian visitors. But we were wrong. For the first few weeks, that is. We bought our bird seed. We set up our feeder. And we waited. But nobody came. The feeder stayed quiet for days on end. No birds would even come near it. Until one day a large redheaded woodpecker, whom I have come to call The Harbinger, showed up. He came from the woods in our backyard, as if driven by some otherworldly force. He ate from the feeder until he nearly burst. When he was finished, he perched himself up on the railing of our deck, and began to sing. His calls pierced through the trees and echoed through the forest. And before long, birds of all shapes and sizes began flocking to the feeder. All at once. They had heard the call, and they had come to feed.

Allow me to introduce the subject of our June article: the abandoned Batterson Park. This is another one that I have had my eye on for a long time and one that no other major explorers have covered. I have always been a sucker for abandoned parks. There’s just something really special about them and the stories of how they got this way. It’s just fascinating how a place like this eventually fades away from thought and time. Even after being enjoyed by so many for so long. First established in the early twentieth century, Batterson Park was created from land once designated as a reservoir. It is unique in that it covers three different towns. Though the park is officially under the Hartford system, it actually exists outside of the city limits. The landmass of the park stretches across parts of Farmington and New Britain. It is all centered around the large and aptly named Batterson Park Pond. But this uniqueness would eventually lead to the park’s downfall. For many years, the towns that Batterson Park belonged to were never able to reach a deal on who would be paying to maintain the park and its amenities. In the fall of 2015, the park was forced to close its doors for good due to budget cuts. It has remained shuttered and forgotten ever since. Many deals and sales have been proposed over the years, but nothing has yet to come to fruition.

As I mentioned to you earlier, this place had been on my radar for awhile. We just never quite had the time to check it out. But, since it’s just about summertime, we were in the market for some new shoes. And let me tell you, there is no better place for explorer shoes than REI in West Hartford. No, we aren’t getting paid to say that. They’re just that good. Check them out if your outdoorsy. Since it was a nice day, after shoe shopping, we decided to take a stop at the nearby abandoned Batterson Park. It is a quiet section of town. And arriving at the deserted park is a little perplexing. The gate is down. But there are several heavily trafficked paths around it. There are signs up saying that the park has been closed. But then there are other signs welcoming you to the park and listing its hours. Mixed messages. No matter. Sitting right alongside the beautiful Batterson Pond, the park is easily accessible. We weren’t too sure about being there at first, but after running into a few other young adults with their dogs, our worries were laid to rest. The abandoned park may be on the small side, but there is also quite a lot to see. Walking through the old gates, you are immediately greeted by a rotting sign. It lists the admission prices to the park from days long since past. My how times have changed. And as we continued down the road, things just got more interesting.

Things are quiet. Very quiet. There has clearly been some fire damage here, as one building near the entrance has been completely burned out. Most of the other buildings have been boarded up, but a few can still be accessed. Inside you will find nothing but old equipment and lots of chairs. The beach’s dock is still floating in the waters of the pond. Several old lifeguard chairs rot off to the side. A maintenance shed sits wide open, and it is full of old disused equipment. A basketball court and pavilion are slowly being overgrown. Forgotten grills and fire pits still stand amongst the brush. The main boathouse curiously still has a few boats under its roof, but they appear to be in good condition. Let’s keep it that way. Perhaps they are just being stored there. But the main star attraction, and the whole reason I am writing this article, is the sea of picnic tables. A little way’s down the main path, there are dozens of derelict picnic tables standing in formation. Their green paint is slowly peeling. Bushes and vegetation is engulfing them. And combined with the dead silence of the old park, they provide a very eerie spectacle to behold. They truly encapsulated the sad story of the abandoned park. A place that was once designed for recreation and fun, now lies empty and cold. The memories stacked up and locked away like these ghostly old picnic tables.

The abandoned Batterson Park was certainly a unique visit. Though there was not too much to see here, the silent army of forgotten picnic tables really provided a haunting window into this place’s long lost past. Plus the park appears to be relatively untouched by the outside world. For now, that is. Who knows what the future holds. It reminded me very much of our bird feeder when we first moved in. You see, we urban explorers are like the wild birds. When one of us finds something good, they usually let out a song of their own to beckon others to come get a taste. And though I do not consider myself The Harbinger, I know that by posting this article, many other explorers will soon be coming to take a look at Batterson Park. And one of the most interesting things I have noticed from feeding the birds is that there are two types of visitors. First, there is the Chickadee. They are beautiful yet simple birds. They come to the feeder, eat their share of food, and then sing a small song before flying off. But then, there is the Grackle. They are obnoxious and disruptive. They scare away the other birds, eat more than their share, and usually knock over our whole feeder. Ruining things for everyone. Most of you reading this, I know, will be quiet and respectful. Like the Chickadees. Some, however, will be loud and destructive. Like the Grackles. Which will you be?

Beautiful Freak – The Abandoned Kristoff Pig Farm

Posted: May 19, 2021 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Business, Abandoned Cars, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Farm, abandoned home, Abandoned House, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Park, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Road, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Automobiles, Broken, Closed, commercial, darkness, Death, Destruction, dreams, empty, Exploration, exploring the abandoned, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, forgotten home, Ghosts, Graveyard, Haunting, Hiking, History, Information, left behind, lost, Massachusetts, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, nightmares, overgrown, photography, Public Parks, research, Ruins, Safety First, State Parks, Stories, time, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, writing, WWII
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Beautiful Freak

The Abandoned Kristoff Pig Farm

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Ladies, and gentlemen. Boys and girls. Children of all ages. Step right up. Come and see the show. May is here. Yay, I guess. We’re well into Spring, heading towards Summer. But for some reason it’s still bloody windy everyday. Like, serious gusts of wind. Why? New England, that’s why. The funny thing about May is that it’s unofficially become our “weird” month. The more unusual places just happen to get covered during this time of year. Maybe it’s because of the nice weather. Or perhaps it’s just fate. Last year we covered the infamous abandoned UConn Kennels. The year before that was Philadelphia’s Goliath abandoned prison/museum Eastern State Penitentiary. Well, we continue the trend this month. I’ve been filming a movie up in Massachusetts for the last few weeks. It’s involved a lot of pre-production, wardrobe fittings, and, of course, Covid tests. In other words, lots of driving back and forth from home to Boston. Just another day in the life of an actor. On one of my many journeys, I decided it might be nice to go for a walk after dealing with film stuff. I like my walks to have some sort of uniqueness to them. Whether it be history, or something to see, or a story of any kind really. And driving back home from an early morning meeting, I just happened to find the right place to check out. And oh, yes, it fit right in with our “weird” month trend.

I honestly thought about opening this piece with Brick Top’s monologue about pig farms from Guy Ritchie’s Snatch. If you’ve seen the film, then you know what I’m talking about. But that definitely would’ve gotten us put on some FBI watch-list. If we’re not on there already… This is another one of those rare places that I just happened to come across while cruising Reddit on one of my days off. It certainly sounded unique, so I decided it might be worth a visit. Even though a couple of it’s original structures have since been demolished. This is the abandoned Kristoff Pig Farm. First established by the Kristoff family in the early twentieth century, this was once one of the most successful farms in all of Massachusetts. Two brothers brought together seven different farms to create one massive property. Their goods were bought and sold all up and down the Eastern seaboard. The family-run business was loved and respected by their community. And they are said to have taken great care of their animals. But like many beloved businesses of this time-frame, time can be a cruel beast. Towards the end of the century, a highway bypass cut straight through their property. And with the passing of their original owner, the farm was forced to close. The animals were sold off. The farmhands moved on to other work. And the land was left to rot.

The abandoned pig farm is huge and right in the middle of wild country. It lies on a desolate road. There is no real parking lot. The gate is blocked. You just kind of have to find a place to put your car that’s out of the way. There are no maps or anything of the sort. You have to find everything on your own, and it’s all very spread out. Many paths lead you to nowhere. A lot of sections are completely overgrown. And you really have to do a lot of digging to find anything worth seeing. I ended up spending several hours here just to make sure I saw everything that there was to see. And while my pictures are not as good as Lassie’s, I think they do a decent job. The first stop on the path is the old processing plant. This is a massive metal structure built into the hillside. At the top it has two large metal tubes, which then lead down to the bottom. God knows what used to be thrown down them. Around here are also a few old wooden pens and what appears to be some sort of feeding station. But you will have to do some climbing to get to them. There are also a few old wooden outhouses off in the distance. But here is where the trail forks. It is the crossroads of the abandoned farm. Both trails will eventually dead-end on you. But both have some pretty cool abandoned stuff, and they unfortunately do not connect with each other. At least, not anymore.

If you go right, you will eventually find what I have come to call “The Graveyard.” This is definitely one of the main attractions of the abandoned pig farm. Here is where all of the old machinery and such has been dumped. An old car rots into oblivion. Dumpsters have been turned over. Some even still bare the name of “Kristoff” on their sides. Tractors decay into the dirt. There is even a massive abandoned trailer full of all kinds of junk. The scariest piece of which is a mask from the 2001 Jim Carrey film The Grinch. Freaky stuff. You peak in through the main hatch and it’s just staring back at you. Everything is also full of bullet holes. So clearly someone is enjoying these old grounds. If you choose to go left on the main trail, you will eventually find the main hog house. This is a large abandoned pen that once housed the largest pigs on the farm. It is a small wooden building with no doors to hold back the outside world. There are several pens connected by a main walk-way, each with it’s own trough. The wooden frame is clearly starting to fall apart. Inside is also all kinds of junk. Things like window frames, a TV, and even an old toilet are cast aside on the ground. Here is also where I found the first real signs of graffiti, as most of the ground had been relatively untouched. Alongside it are a large rusted up tractor and another beat-up trailer full of junk.

In a curious turn of events, when I arrived at my destination, the parking area was full of cars. There were nine or ten of them at the pull-off. But when I got back, every one of them was gone. I had only encountered two other people out there, and they were together. It was a friendly couple who were looking for directions. But unfortunately, I was as lost as there were. I ended up being able to work this website into the discussion. So, guys, if you’re reading this, hello there! The abandoned farm is also absolutely teeming with wildlife. Though the people were few and far between, the animals were another story. Chipmunks scurry amongst the brush. The calls of the chickadees echo through the forest. A portly groundhog shuffles his way around the rusted ruins. A large black and yellow snake suns himself in the middle of the trail. And for some reason, I kept bumping into this one lonely turkey. He was just wandering around, all by himself, clearly looking for something. On several occasions, we’d make each other jump by not realizing the other was there. Oh, and I pulled at least six ticks off myself during/after my walk. I also kept finding them in my car for the next couple of days. Lovely stuff. So be warned. But if you’re up for something a little weird, and a little out there, this place is totally for you. So step right up. Don’t be shy.

Melting Snowmen – The Abandoned Bells Mansion

Posted: March 24, 2021 by kingleser in Abandoned, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Boston, Abandoned Castle, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Forts, abandoned home, Abandoned Hotel, Abandoned House, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Park, Abandoned Pennsylvania, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Resort, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Tower, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Beaches, Broken, Closed, commercial, darkness, Death, Destruction, Exploration, exploring the abandoned, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, forgotten home, Fort Wetherill, Ghosts, Haunting, Hiking, History, Information, left behind, lost, Love, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, Ocean, Ocean View, overgrown, photography, Public Parks, research, Rhode Island, Ruins, State Parks, Stories, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, writing
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Melting Snowmen

The Abandoned Bells Mansion

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

The neighbors across the street built a snowman. They had their grandchildren over a few weeks ago, after one of our many snowstorms, and built a big snowman. It took them a few hours. But, oh, the fun they had. He was like any of those classic Hallmark songs about winter time. Three large balls stacked on top of each other. Little rocks were used for the eyes, nose, and mouth. He had a great big grin on his face, happy to entertain. Bottle caps were used for the buttons on his chest. The grandfather even broke out one of his old hats and scarves to make him feel a little bit more personable. When they were finished, he was perfect. But once he was finished, everyone went back inside. The sun set behind the evergreen treeline. The children eventually went home. The grandparents returned to their television shows and their cigarettes. The snowman, who once brought so much mometary joy, was left alone. Whenever I was able to take my dog for a walk, his personality shown a little less bright. The hat and scarf eventually blew away in the cold winter wind. The great balls of snow began to droop with age. And slowly but surely, the poor snowman’s very frame itself began to melt. No one came to tend to him. No one came to keep him alive. Days eventually turned into weeks. Snow eventually turned into rain. And by the time March had rolled around, all that was once left of this once happy snowman was nothing more than a pile of whiteness. The time of winter was now over. Spring had finally come.

So, hello again. Winter is over. And we are officially back in business. You may have noticed some things have changed around here. We’ve recently added a treasure map of our locations to our site. It allows our visitors to look at a list of all our locations by the state in which they reside. If you haven’t already, check it out sometime at the top of the page. While making this new feature, I realized that we are a little heavy on the Connecticut locations. Given that it’s our home, this is acceptable. But the other surrounding states looked a little bit left out. So for this year, we are going to be visiting Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and the rest of New England as much as possible. Maybe a return to New York is even in order once things finally settle down. If there’s any specific locations you’d like to see us cover, please do drop us a line. On our first stop of the year, we decided to check out a place that many before us have covered. It’s one that’s alluded us over the years. Not on any moral grounds or anything. We just never quite found the time to check this place out. This is the abandoned Bells Mansion, or what’s left of it anyway. First built in the late 1800’s, this place once stood grandly amongst the other mansions of Newport, Rhode Island. A series of unfortunate events and a constant change in ownership led the property to a state of disrepair. There was even a fire and a bit of demolition. And now belonging to the state, all that remains of this former palace is the broken down carriage house. Never the less, her spirit still remains.

We made the trek up to Rhode Island on a grey March Sunday. I know Newport well. I once worked on Woody Allen’s movie for a whole summer up there back in 2014. I never ended up seeing the movie, though. But frankly, nobody should be watching his work anymore. Summer in Newport is no picnic. Late winter, however, is great. You can really appreciate the town before it is flooded with festivals and tourists. The drive up and through Rhode Island was rather pleasant. Covid-19 may be wounded and nearing defeat, but it’s still quite dangerous. So we didn’t end up getting to check out many of our old haunts around town. But that’s okay. Also, the Newport Bridge now has automated tolls on one side. But not the other side. Peculiar. I know that they are much more unsafe, but I always kind of enjoyed interacting with the tollbooth operators. It was usually early in the morning driving to set, and it was more often than not an older lady. But they always greeted you with a smile. Some days, that really helps. So let’s all try to be a little nicer to each other. The remains of the Bells Mansion are located in what is now Brenton Point State Park on the far side of town. And though it was grey and chilly, the ocean-side park was still very much alive and active with people. I thought this would be an issue for our exploration, but it wasn’t. Most people were too busy gazing at the ocean, searching for the bathroom, or playing with their dogs to notice the old ruins of the carriage house. It is mostly quiet around this side of the park.

As you arrive at the park, you can straight-up see the abandoned mansion from the visitors lot. The ruins of the mansion very much look like 2020 incarnate. The building looks tired, battered, and broken. Dueling graffiti of “Black Lives Matter” and “Make America Great Again” coat the walls. There is a strong sense of loneliness and hopelessness. Like our snowman left out in the cold as his hat blows away. Everything appears to be grey or brown. Wild vegetation and thick vines protect the ruins from the outside world. Yet there are quite a few curious tunnels and pathways through the underbrush. Some will lead you inside of the abandoned building. Some will lead you nowhere. A failing chain-link fence stands in some places. But like a toothless guard dog, it doesn’t do much good. Inside the cement floors are cracking and crumbling. There is so much water buildup from the upstairs that the ceilings literally feel like they are raining on the inside. It is like something out of a bad dream. There is an observation tower nearby that provides an excellent view of the entire estate. But it, too, has become a victim of graffiti and vandalism. Jagged pieces of metal from the old framework are the only things keeping the structure alive. One of the most interesting things I found was that a tree outside has grown so much that people are now clearly using it to climb inside the abandoned mansion. Creative. I thought of trying it myself, as I used to love climbing trees, but I was advised against it by my more grounded partner.

After getting all the pictures we could, we bid farewell to The Bells and spent some time around the ocean. We gathered some shells. Found some sea glass. And generally just enjoyed the majesty of the Atlantic Ocean. Though the abandoned Bells Mansion may not have been much to look at, one of my favorite things about it are the sounds. Inside sounds like a pouring monsoon as water pours from the ceiling. Outside, you cannot escape the sounds of the waves crashing into the rocks a mere stones through away. It wasn’t quite as exciting as I had hoped it would be, but there is quite a bit of history here. A lot of our fellow explorers have covered this one, and we had to see it for ourselves. If you go, just be wary of people. There is a lot of them snooping around the park. And though winter may have come to end, make sure you get good weather. Just being around the roaring ocean makes this one worth the trip. We’ve had a little bit of snow here and there over the last week. But it’s never more than just a dusting. Three inches maximum. It’s usually all melted by the time midday rolls around. The icy fingers of winter have been broken. Its time is now over. Just as the time of the grand bygone era of the Bells Mansion have passed. They are now nothing more than memories. For much like our neighbor’s snowman, now matter how much joy and love went into building a place like this, we all have a debt to pay. Time stands still for nothing. And all things that come from the Earth must eventually be returned to it.

A Quarter-Mile At A Time

The Abandoned Blue Hot Rod

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

“I live my life a quarter-mile at a time. Nothing else matters; not the mortgage, not the store, not my team and all their bullshit. For those ten seconds or less…I’m free.” – Dominic Toretto

Personally, I prefer Need for Speed. But that first Fast and Furious movie was a classic. I remember seeing it for the first time with my brother one Friday night when we were kids. We loved it. We got all the Matchbox cars. We built all the characters out of Lego. We even got our hands on the soundtrack. We had no idea what Ja Rule was saying in his songs, but damn did we find them catchy. My brother loved this movie so much that he has gone on to be a very successful auto mechanic. He truly loves cars, and attributes that love to seeing this movie for the first time. It just goes to show you that any of us can find our inspiration in some of the most unexpected ways. Cars have always been something that have captivated the imaginations of people everywhere. As Jesse in The Fast and the Furious says, “just something about engines that calms me down.” It’s a beautiful thing. So full disclosure here, the snow really got to us this month. We were hoping to make our return to exploring, but we’ve had several inches of snow and ice coating the ground all through February. That said, our hearts go out to all of our friends in Texas right now. So once again, this piece will be from our archives. You know, those adventures that are really fun, but never quite make it onto our blog. Until times like these. This was an abandoned relic we just happened to stumble across last summer, and it’s one that has stuck with me ever since. This is the abandoned Blue Hot Rod.

For those of you who don’t remember, or have chosen to forget, the summer of 2020 sucked. It was hot. It was divisive. It was boring. It made people like me realize that summer really isn’t that fun when you’re not a kid. You’re stuck inside with nowhere to go and nothing to do. And if you were like us and didn’t have air conditioning at the time, then you were really in trouble. So it was our policy during this time to get outside and go for a walk whenever we got a chance. Whenever there was a break in the heat, we were out there. One weekend in late July, we got one of those days. So we went out. The plan was to go for a quick walk, grab some essential supplies, pick up some take-away, then head home. A nice/simple summer day. We picked a small park nearby to us. It was close to the city, yet far enough away to be quiet. We had walked this park before once, but it was mostly flooded at the time. The dog unfortunately had to sit this one out. Our walk was nice. The birds were chirping. The sun was shining. And the heat was manageable. Plus there wasn’t too many people around. The trail we took was a mile long loop. But around the half-way point, we came across something hiding in the bushes. Off the beaten path, it looked like just another abandoned car. Not too exciting. So we decided to snap a few photographs for our Instagram. But the closer we got to it, the more we began to realize that this car was a little bit different from all of the others.

I have tried to do as much research as possible on this car, but have yet to come up with a solid make and model. At first, we honestly thought it was an ambulance. The frame is quite big and there is a fading blue paint job on the exterior. But the closer you look, the more this starts to look like an old school luxury car from a bygone era. Judging from the fins on the back, I believe it is from the late 1950’s or early 1960’s. With it’s unique push-button transmission and wired steering wheel, this might be a Chrysler. Possibly a Dodge. But like I said earlier, I’m not much of a car guy. If anyone has any thoughts, please feel free to share. Any insight would be greatly appreciated. Most of the abandoned cars we’ve covered in the past have just been rusting hulks of metal that have been cast aside. They’ve all been at abandoned houses, old work sites, or forgotten junkyards. This one, however, seemed like it was a real treasure at one point. The striking blue upholstery and sturdy leather seats really make me question why this old hot rod was left out here to rot. It definitely looks like this car was rather expensive in it’s heyday. But why was it left behind? What led this amazing machine to this grim fate? I could see this old beauty cruising along the back roads way back when. Now it lies sinking into the dirt, surrounded by ferns and mosquitoes. We were the only ones out in the park that day, but the old classic car is very much hidden off the main trail. Let’s hope it stays that way.

As a matter of professionalism, we never share the locations of our abandoned cars. It’s nothing personal against our readers. It’s just we’ve had a lot of people contact us in the past looking for abandoned cars to scrap for money. That just doesn’t sit well with me. Relics like this old blue hot rod deserve to be preserved and remembered, not scrapped. I know it seems rather silly to spend an entire article on a single car. But I think our pictures speak for themselves. All that remains of this old marvel are very striking. Some of the tech has somehow survived all of these years. The blue upholstery gives it a very magical yet tragic feel. You can still feel the era that this workhorse came from. Someone, somewhere, must’ve really loved and enjoyed this car at some point. I felt like this one needed to be shared and talked about, as it honestly stands apart from all other abandoned cars we’ve seen before. I know winter sucks right now and things can feel hopeless sometimes. But we have to carry on and hope that tomorrow will be a better day. I miss exploring. I miss being out there hunting down the places that the world has forgotten about. But that is just going to have to wait. Waiting sucks. But it’s almost always worth it. You cannot just skip over times like these. You have to learn to appreciate the little things. That’s how you grow as a person. Spring is coming. Dawn approaches. Better days will be here soon. We’ll get there someday. Even if it is just a quarter mile at a time.

What Was Forgotten

The Abandoned Broad Brook Company

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Hello, there. Happy New Year. It doesn’t feel much different from the last. Frankly, it never does to me. Time keeps on rolling. The wind keeps on blowing. Change is made in leaps and bounds. It doesn’t just happen over night. No matter what the movies tell us. We are still very much on our winter hiatus. But I just came by to talk for awhile. See who is still out there. See who will listen. Winter sucks for exploring. It’s cold. It’s bleak. The sun goes away too fast. And snow can be a real burden when you’re trying to slip in and out of places that you are not supposed to be. The one upside of winter is that I get to tell stories of adventures long since passed. Not every abandoned place we cover is worthy of a spot on our site. We go. We take pictures. Sometimes, a place just really isn’t that visually interesting or exciting enough. And so we just back the photos up on a hard-drive and move on. They sit there just collecting virtual dust for years at a time. But during these dark months, I get to go through our archives and shed a little bit of light on the forgotten subjects. Today is one of those days. Be forewarned, this is a story piece. It will be told through words. Not by photographs. If this doesn’t interest you, that’s okay. I get it. But this is a place that I think deserves to be talked about. So let’s talk.

Our story begins the summer of 2020. It is hot. It is depressing. Our air conditioner was really loud. Much like winter, summer is also a tricky time for exploring. Especially during a pandemic. There are more people out and about. You have to bring excessive amounts of water. And the sun can really do some damage to your skin. I was cruising Reddit one morning, as I always do, and someone spoke of a place. It was a place that I had never heard of. This place had a very interesting story. Many years ago, a mill was built in a sleepy little village in northern Connecticut. It brought jobs. It brought success. It brought luster. The town was literally built on the back of this mill. But much like many nearby towns, this mill would eventually fall. It served many purposes over the years, seeing actions as a center for both manufacturing and services. But in the 1990’s, a newer much more different purpose was bestowed upon it: real estate. The old mill was converted into condominiums. But something happened then that nobody could’ve seen coming. The old mill’s past came back to haunt her. Poisonous solvents and chemicals were discovered in the soil surrounding this place. The hazardous materials forced it to close and evict all of its tenants for their safety. It was then shuttered. Left to rot. And there it waits.

And so we took a drive. That afternoon. This was close by. So we just hopped in the car and went to check it out. Spontaneity came be fun sometimes. Especially during the summer. It’s weird. I had driven by this place a thousand times. We had enough eaten at the pub one evening that sits right out front. And I never knew this place was hear. It is even a registered historical landmark. Coming upon it was haunting. It has a very grand appearance. It’s architecture is captivating. It is a red brick fortress accented with stark white trim. The old mill is crammed in behind a bunch of stores and apartment complexes. It is also eerily quiet. Despite all of the hustle and bustle around it, the old mill is as quiet as a tomb. Like a void into another dimension. But it is also completely sealed off from the outside world. A sturdy chain-link fence surrounds the entire perimeter. We know. We know because we checked. We went around the entire property looking for a hole in the fence. But there is none. This place is totally and completely locked down. Even the old street that served as the entrance to the complex has been completely sealed off. There was no way in. We have never broken our way into an abandoned place. And we never will. It’s not our style. I could’ve easily climbed this fence, but I didn’t.

DANGER. KEEP OUT. NO TRESPASSING. The warnings are there. And apparently for good reason. Though the lawn appears to be well maintained, the soil is said to be incredibly toxic. But the archaic building is truly captivating. It stood there ominously before us, casting it’s shadow across the summer sky. Windows have been smashed on the upper levels. But this was clearly done by outsiders throwing projectiles at them. Like a besieged medieval castle. But no return volley is fired. Doors are boarded up. Trees grow wild and dangerous. And the complex has clearly lain dormant for a long time, trapped inside of its own little exclusion zone. After finding the perimeter completely impenetrable, we just kind of sat outside the fence and stared at the looming abandoned monster. I guess we just kind of hoped that something would happen. Nobody bothered us. Nobody even cared that we were there. Though there is not much to see, it is still a wonder to behold. And that’s why I’ve written this piece. This story could’ve just sat rotting in our archives, much as she rots in real life. But I feel as though this place’s story deserves to be told. After all that’s it’s been through, it does not deserve to be forgotten.

So let’s always remember: the abandoned Broad Brook Company. Also known as the Broad Brook Mill. There is only one picture here because that is the only good picture we could get of the place. But I think it does it’s job well. In our experiences, places like this one are usually in much bigger towns. If anyone reading this has any experiences with this place, please do share. Whether you be employees, former residents, or just passed through one day. There’s extremely little information on the Broad Brook Company out there. And I’d love to spread a little more knowledge of her story out there to the world. I find it to be a tragic tale. That the Broad Brook Company was once a jewel of this community. Then forced to close down shop due to a changing economy. A beacon of hope brought it back to life. But then it’s past finally killed it off for good. I have heard there is a grant out there to redesign and rehabilitate the old complex. So let’s see what happens. But until then, the memories and experiences remain behind bars. A quiet and untouched world now grows within the confines of those steels fences. The village carries on with all of its comings and goings. But whether they see it or not, the abandoned Broad Brook Company is still there.

Oubliette – The Abandoned Transient Camp Nepaug

Posted: November 18, 2020 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Business, Abandoned Cabin, Abandoned Castle, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Forts, Abandoned House, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Park, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Prison, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Road, Abandoned Summer Camp, Abandoned Tunnel, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Broken, Cabin, Closed, commercial, Connecticut, darkness, Death, Destruction, empty, Exploration, exploring the abandoned, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, Forts, Ghosts, Haunting, Hiking, History, Homeless, Information, left behind, lost, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, overgrown, photography, Public Parks, research, Ruins, Safety First, Searching, Stories, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, writing, WWII
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Oubliette

The Abandoned Transient Camp Nepaug

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

It’s a place that you put people to forget about them. If you get that reference, then we can definitely be friends. It’s been said a thousand times before, and a thousand times again, but this has been a rough year for all of us. You hear it on social media. You hear it on the radio. You’ve heard it on our site. In these divisive times, it’s the one thing that we can all truly agree on. Thousands have lost loved ones. Millions have lost their jobs. We personally have lost two dear friends to cancer. Pardon my french, but fuck cancer. And frankly, fuck 2020. I don’t usually curse on this site, but I think it’s necessary this time. The world has changed forever, and sadly things will probably never go back to the way they used to be. This is a year that we’d all just like to forget. And as our urban exploring season winds down, we here at Abandoned Wonders are very much looking forward to taking some time off. But on our last stop of the year, we visited a place that appears to have been forgotten a long time ago.

This is a place that has come to go by many names. To some, it is known as “Tory’s Prison.” There is an urban legend that abounds that this place was once a prison for British sympathizers during the Colonial Era. To others, it is simply known as “Old Stone Jailhouse.” This hallowed ground’s true name is in fact Camp Nepaug. First built during the Great Depression, this area was a refugee for the weary travelers of the darkest times in American history. Transients and vagabonds could live/work here for a time before eventually continuing on with their quest to find solace. But if these men ever needed a grown-up version of a time out, there was a stone jailhouse on the grounds just for that purpose. The federal government created many camps such as this one across the country, in hopes of quelling the mass migration of drifters looking for work. Eventually, this area of refuge outlived her purpose. Though she has since been added as a Historical Landmark, that doesn’t do much to stop the hands of time.

And so, in the final days of Fall 2020, we made our journey out to the abandoned remains of Camp Nepaug. You see, I am a hunter. I love to hike and search for my abandoned places. It makes finding them that much more fun. I don’t like it when they’re literally just sitting right off the side of the road. And that’s how this place is. The road eventually turns to dirt as you get deeper into the forest, and then low and behold, there is Old Stone Jailhouse. There is even a small parking turn around right next to it. Coming up to the abandoned jailhouse is quite cool. The bars are still on the windows. The doors are gone. Glass and batteries, for some reason, liter themselves across the ground. There is a strong odor of fresh spray paint in the air, which is certainly concerning. Inside the jailhouse are some old fire logs and a few stacks of bygone newspapers. The roof is still there. Mostly. Holes in the old rotting ceiling allow you a peak at the clear blue sky. And you wonder what this place must’ve looked like way back when.

The abandoned jailhouse is really cool. But it’s also really small. So when we were finished with our investigation, we continued down the paths. Just to see what we could find. The old camp used to have several amenities for its guests. Unfortunately, few of these are still standing. Right across the road are the foundations and old fireplace of what was once the camp’s great hall. Farther down by the running waters of the river is the old well house. It is very similar to the jailhouse in its stone appearance, yet its considerably smaller. The only other thing of note here is the bunker. Take note, I don’t think this was its original purpose. A little ways passed the fireplace is a large pipe in the ground. Someone appears to have cut a doorway into this pipe and formed a sort of makeshift bunker down here. It is very dark inside, and the floor is coated in garbage. But it does actually go back a ways. Good thing we always bring our flashlights. You never know what you’re going to find. A surprise, to be sure. But a welcome one.

The last place we visit for the year is almost always a good one. And the abandoned Camp Nepaug was no exception. This was our final stop for the 2020 season. As always, we take a nice long hiatus through the winter. It’s usually because of the holiday season chaos and snow. But this year, we honestly just need a break from everything. We’re hoping, with a regime change, the global pandemic will eventually be gotten under control. And we will finally be able to venture outside of Connecticut. So hopefully, we can all someday begin to put this ugly year behind us. But you see, forgetting can be a hard thing to do. Just ask the abandoned Camp Nepaug. It’s past has been lost to many, yet the history remains. We all wish we had places like an oubliette to put our bad memories. But it doesn’t really work like that. Drinking is not the answer. Trust me on that. Therapy helps, to a certain extent. But honestly, when it comes to hardship, there is no forgetting about it. You just have to learn from it.

Before the Fall – The Abandoned Willimantic Thread Mill

Posted: September 30, 2020 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Business, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned mill, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Pennsylvania, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Railway, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned train station, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Broken, Closed, commercial, Connecticut, darkness, Death, Destruction, empty, Exploration, exploring the abandoned, fire, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, Ghosts, Haunting, Hiking, History, Homeless, Information, left behind, lost, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, nightmares, overgrown, paper mill, photography, research, Ruins, Safety First, Searching, Stories, Trains, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, Williamtic, writing
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Before the Fall

The Abandoned Willimantic Thread Mill

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

It has begun. The leaves are starting to turn orange and yellow. The skies grow grey. The days are turning darker. The hour is growing very late, indeed. Summer has come and passed. Fall is here. Scary movies are popping up on television. Pumpkins are appearing on everyone’s front porch. The morning dew is now a ghostly frost. It is the changing of the seasons. This article is a little later than we usually post. And for that I apologize. This has been one of the busiest months we’ve had in a very long time. But that is a story for another time. And due to a recent job change for Lassie, we won’t be leaving our home state for the rest of the season. So upstage, Connecticut. It is your time shine once again. We’ve been playing it safe for the last few months due to global pandemic. We’ve mostly covered old relics of the past that have been lost in the woods. But with the turning of the tide, we decided that now was the time to do some real urban exploring. This was no ordinary hike. This was us putting ourselves right back into the thick of it. Into some real danger. And little did we know, but we were in for a bit of an adventure.

This is another one of those places that I have yet to find an actual name for. I’ve done a lot of research, but it has been inconclusive. If anyone reading this has any information, please do share it with us. So, for now, we shall be calling this place the Willimantic Thread Mill. You see, the town of Willimantic used to be known as “Thread City.” It was one of the mill capitals of New England. There were over half a dozen prosperous mills operating in the town at the turn of the century, all working on textiles. They provided jobs and sustenance for the entire local community. But this time of great success was not meant to last. It never is. As time marched on, the American economy began to shift from a manufacturing one to a service one. One by one, the great mills of Thread City shuttered their doors. Many rose again as apartment buildings or municipal offices. One was tragically lost to a great fire long ago. But another was lost to the woods. Cut off from the rest of the community by trees and train tracks, this old industrial titan has now become a black hole. This is our story of visiting the lost thread mill of Willimantic.

If you are a follower of our blog, you should know that we have covered many places here in Willimantic before. From the railway, to the theater, to the Bridge of Death, we have come to know this town quite well. You see, this place has been on our radar for a while now. It was first described to me by an old friend as a train station for the old railway. Considering its proximity to the train tracks, this always made sense to me. But a little more digging showed this to not be the case. Since we were now confined to finishing off our year here in the Nutmeg State, we decided it was finally the time to search out this old monster. Though we were now in the first official week of Fall, it was still bloody humid out. The sweetness of summer hadn’t quite given up yet. It was a Sunday, after a long typical week here in the Hellscape of 2020. We mapped out our location. We found a place to park. We trekked alone down the train tracks, like wandering vagabonds. Not really knowing what we were going to find out here in the woods. Until we took a heavily used trail, and wound up somewhere we clearly weren’t supposed to be.

It was a tent city for the local homeless population. They are living in the ruins of an old mill that burned to the ground long ago. We should’ve known, seeing there were several old mountain bikes and bags of trash strung up in the trees. Like warning signs. We quickly took what pictures we could and got the Hell out of there. These communities usually don’t like visitors. We continued on none the less. And it was here that things really fell silent. Continuing along the train tracks, we eventually crossed through the old gates and onto the grounds of the old mill. It’s hard to tell how big this place was, given how overgrown the underbrush is. It is held together by an amalgamation of brick, wood, and metal. We slipped inside via the old loading dock. Graffiti is everywhere. Trash coats the ground. Archaic machinery rots into oblivion. There are several large gaping rooms, but they are filled only with debris. The once ornate roof has even caved in in a few spots. But the main attraction of the old mill is the elevator shaft, which really didn’t disappoint. You can look straight up through the old machinery and into the grim grey sky. We then began to hear a dog barking very close by, followed by some footsteps. It was time to leave once again.

We both got really bad vibes from this place. I’m not quite sure why. Maybe it was the tent city. Maybe we were just having an off day. Maybe we were feeling a tad rusty. But the abandoned Willimantic Thread Mill is certainly creepy. Funny enough, it’s always the mills that give us the creeps. Perhaps that’s because it’s always the mills that have squatters. Union Pond. Talcotville. Montgomery. We are no strangers to this sort of thing. We’ve been doing this a long time. But like I said earlier, this was our first taste of real urban exploration in awhile. Most of the places we’ve been covering lacked the old school danger feeling. Don’t get me wrong. I love a good hike and a little history. But few things get your heart pumping as much as slipping into a place like this one. Just in time for Fall, too. It was chilling at first, then it reminded me of how much fun this urban exploring stuff can be. It was pulse-pounding, but also felt good to be back at it. Much like the fall season can feel chilling, yet exhilarating. There may be some scares here and there. Things will start to get colder. But if you keep your wits about you, it’s all in good fun.