Posts Tagged ‘Blogging’

Season Finale – The Abandoned Fort Dearborn

Posted: October 18, 2023 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Forts, abandoned home, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned military bases, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Park, Abandoned Pennsylvania, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Road, Abandoned Tower, Abandoned Tunnel, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Art, Birds, Broken, Closed, darkness, Death, Destruction, dreams, empty, Exploration, fantasy, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, Fortress, Forts, Ghosts, Graveyard, Haunting, Hiking, History, Homeless, Information, left behind, lost, Manchester, Massachusetts, Military, Military Forts, Movies, Mystery, nature, Navy, new england, New Hampshire, nightmares, Ocean, Ocean View, photography, Preserved Ruin, Public Parks, research, Ruins, Safety First, Searching, State Parks, Stories, time, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, War, writing, WWII
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Season Finale

The Abandoned Fort Dearborn

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Who here enjoys a good television show? It’s kind of a weird question to ask these days with all the strikes going on. But I know that most of us out there all have our preferred shows to watch. It’s Cobra Kai and Andor for me. I remember as a kid, before streaming services and DVR’s, my Grandmother had to take a break everyday at 2pm sharp to watch “Her Stories” on CBS. But what would our favorite shows be without a good finale? It gets us excited for what comes next. Like Game of Thrones (Season 1), Dexter (Season 4), or Lost (Season 3). If I missed any of your favorites, please feel free to shout them out in the comments. Here at Abandoned Wonders, we’ve had one of the best seasons we’ve ever had. We’ve explored abandoned zoos, hiked to lost plane crashes, and trekked deep into the mountains in search of the illusive JME House. It’s been quite a year, to say the least. But now, the year is beginning to wind down and this will serve as our grand finale of the 2023 season. Last quarter, we finally made the trek back up to New Hampshire. And since that piece gained such a big response, we decided to return to the White Mountain State for one last hurrah. So here it is, let’s all learn about the abandoned Fort Dearborn.

Located just across the bay of the Piscataqua River from the likewise abandoned Fort Stark, Fort Dearborn has a much shorter and significantly more checkered history. Up until the dawning of World War II, this land was once privately owned affluent beachfront property. But when the shadows of war crept onto the eastern seaboard, the US government felt forced to act. The land was taken over via the always controversial law of “Eminent Domain,” which if you’re not familiar basically states that the government can buy your land from you for it’s base worth and evict you from it without you having any say in the matter. Once the land was cleared of inhabitants, Fort Dearborn was established. It had a small garrison and was championed to by major defense batteries. But hope save us, The War to End all Wars never reached the eastern American coastline. And in 1948, the US Government decommissioned Fort Dearborn and gifted it to the state of New Hampshire. Once again, in controversial fashion, the land’s previous owners were not given the opportunity to purchase the property back. Over the years, the young military fort fell into dissrepair, and its remains currently reside on the far outskirts of Odiorne Point State Park.

And so, as the leaves began to fall, we made our way up north once again to the proud state of New Hampshire. As a lifelong resident of Connecticut, it’s always a culture shock for me going up there. Alcohol is sold pretty much exclusively from state run establishments. There’s toll roads all over the place. No sales tax. But what honestly flabbergasts me the most is that air is not free at petrol stations. I stopped for some on the way back from our last trip, and the attendant honestly looked at me like I was crazy when I asked him to turn the air on. How weird is that? As I mentioned to you earlier, the remains of the fort lie deep in the woods of Odiorne State Park. The park, much to our surprise was quite jumping when we arrived. Children played on the colorful playground. Old folks perused the soggy beach. Gulls cawed furiously in the ocean breeze. But the deeper we got into the woods, the quieter things became. When an abandoned place such as this resides in a popular state park, this is usually how things go. Still, we honestly weren’t sure how much we were going to find out there. We walked in relative silence under a light mist until, at long last, we finally found ourselves totally alone in a silent wooded area.

The abandoned batteries of Fort Dearborn loom out of the woods like great concrete titans. Battery Dearborn is the first to greet you with Fort Seamen farther down the line. Each is nearly identical in structure, with a wide entrance in the middle giving way to a great open space. If you look closely, you can still make out the names of each branded across their hulls. The two are a good quarter of a mile apart and are connected by a long filled-in tunnel system. The entrances to these tunnels are blocked by rusty metal gates that are shored up by plenty of concrete blocks and other debris. There are several ways to peak inside though. Trespassers are clearly not welcome. With a good pair of shoes, you can climb the steep slope to the top of each battery. There, you are treated with a wonderful view of the Atlantic seacoast that this old warhorse once watched over. There are a pair of pillboxes located in proximity to each battery. Both are just concrete hollowed out shells that have been plastered in vibrant graffiti. But still, they are pretty cool to check out. Hanging out in there kind of made us feel like kids again, playing Army out in the woods. Even during this time of year, though, there were mosquitos bloody everywhere.

I honestly would recommend a visit to Fort Dearborn if you’re up for an adventure in the White Mountain State. There honestly isn’t too much to see here, but the grounds themselves are much more rugged and frankly much more interesting than those of her counterpart Fort Stark. While Stark was an old war hero who served the nation for centuries, the land that Dearborn is on was basically swindled from it owners, converted to what turned out to be unnecessary military purposes, and then left to rot in the middle of the woods. It is a story that is hard to believe and even harder to forget. But does it live up to the hype of a strong season finale? Well, that’s for you the reader to decide. And while I’ve got your attention, we have a special announcement for all of our readers here. 2024 will mark ten years of Abandoned Wonders! It’s crazy how fast time flies. Thank you so much to everyone who has been along with us for this crazy ride. We’ve covered over 100 abandoned places across seven states and we’re still going strong. We’re not quite sure what we’ll be doing to celebrate or what the plan is yet. But expect to see us back in some way sometime soon. What will we be up to? Well, you’ll just have to tune in next season.

Wander My Friends – The Abandoned JME House

Posted: June 19, 2023 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Amusement Park, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Cabin, Abandoned Castle, Abandoned Connecticut, abandoned home, Abandoned House, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Pennsylvania, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Road, Abandoned Tower, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Art, Cabin, Children, Closed, Destruction, empty, Exploration, exploring the abandoned, for sale, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, forgotten home, Haunting, Hiking, History, House, Information, left behind, lost, Love, Magic, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, New York, overgrown, Pennsylvania, photography, research, Ruins, Safety First, Searching, Stories, time, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, Vermont, writing
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Wander My Friends

The Abandoned JME House

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

“There was this point in my life when I decided I was going to trust my own ideas…

that’s where my life started, really.” -Jaimie Mantzel

I talk about a lot of things on here. It’s weird sometimes, I know. Abandoned Wonders has kind of become this beautiful mix of personal and travel blog. I love telling stories. I hope that I inspire people with my writing. But at the very least, I just hope you all enjoy my musings. No matter how random they can be sometimes. One thing I talk about every year on here is the the call to adventure. It’s something I’ve always had and can never shake. No matter how badly I want to sometimes. Every year, Lassie and I consider retiring from this whole urban exploring thing. We’ve been at this for almost ten years now (wow!), and we aren’t getting any younger. But every year, we come back. Why, you ask? The call to adventure. The need to see new places and explore new worlds always gets the best of us. It keeps me up at night sometimes. I feel like there’s always something new on the horizon to see or to learn. And in the early days of summer 2023, for the first time in a long time, adventure found me. I had business up in the Great White North. And whenever I have to undertake a journey such as this one, I always try to find a unique place to explore on the way to help make the trip worth it. Well friends, as fate would have it, I just happened to come across one of the most unique and beautiful abandoned places I have ever seen.

This is my friend the JME House. Please say hello! In the early 2000’s, an eccentric social media personality and gifted inventor named Jaimie Mantzel built a unique dome house in the mountains. His goal was to live completely off the grid with his young family. The house was built entirely out of recycled materials and featured three stories, with the entire third floor being a trampoline. It was designed with an open floor plan with each floor being connected either by ladders or a blue and yellow playground slide. There was no indoor plumbing or running water. The family cooked all of their own meals together. The house was powered by solar energy and heated via a wood stove. There was also a stationary bike that was used to generate electricity. There were no neighbors for miles and the house was completely inaccessible to vehicles. It could only be reached via a long hike through the forest. For several years, the young Mantzel Family lived out in the mountains completely off the grid. But eventually, Jaimie Mantzel got the call to adventure once again and the time came for them to move on. Jaimie sold the house to an anonymous buyer after a short YouTube campaign and moved his family out of the country. But then what happened? Nothing. For reasons unknown, the house became abandoned and forgotten deep in the mountains. And there she stands to this day.

I will not be giving away anything on this location to preserve its beauty. I know that the real hunters on here will find it (you know who you are), but I also know that those are the people that will respect it. Do not ask us for any information on how to find this place. I’m sorry. But I really want the JME House to remain as untouched by the outside world as possible. If you have a problem with that, then we’re just going to have to agree to disagree. As I mentioned to you earlier, I was once again flying solo on this trip. And so, after a long day of traveling and running on two hours of sleep, I found myself trekking alone deep into the unknown in search of this illusive treasure. It was sunny. It was hot. It was rustic. Luckily I came prepared. Lots of water. Lots of food. A map. And my compass. Thank you, Eagle Scout training. Luckily it didn’t take long to cross into the former kingdom of Jaimie Mantzel. After a long walk down a lonely pathway, I found myself gazing upon a most peculiar site. The first location to greet you is a small hut that was the former sauna/hot tub. Though it is now completely full of mosquitoes and bugs. Next to this is what the man himself came to call “The Banana Building.” What was once an open workshop for creativity is now just a disastrous pile of rubble. But up the hill, guided by a blue climbing rope, is where the adventure truly begins.

The abandoned JME House stands grandly upon the hill, looking like an elegant can of soup with its dome structure. The northeastern side is made up of windows, whilst the others are a simple tin. Colorful painting and art coat the exterior. It is unclear what is graffiti and what is not. There is a modest opening at the front that serves as the doorway inside, though it is only covered by a thin sheet of plastic. Written in stark yellow paint next to the opening is the house’s name: JME House. Walking inside was like stepping into a dream. Greeting you as soon as you walk in is a big purple sign welcoming you to the home. The sign politely asks all visitors to be kind and to sign their guest book, but someone seems to have made off with it. I searched the entire house looking for it to no avail. Though the place is captivating, the smell was unbearable. I’m not sure why. And while the outside forest is teeming with summer noises, it is peacefully serene inside the home. The first floor is partially paved and served as the family living quarters. A homespun bucket-system bathroom stands guarded by a couple of tarps. Old radio gear has been left behind. Some cooking equipment and lots of old books chill on the shelves. The stationary bike used to generate electricity still stands and miraculously still works. A petite wooden staircase leads up to the house’s upper levels.

The second level of the house features the former art gallery of Jaimie’s work and is the landing zone for the vibrantly colored playground slide above. Many curious drawings and paintings still hang on the wall. A well loved armchair hangs out here too. But the third floor is what everyone wants to hear about, right. Because trampolines are fun! Though I could not fit down the slide, being 6’3″, I confess to doing my fair share of jumping on the trampoline. It once served as the family’s recreation area and believe me, there is still plenty of fun to be had here. A steel step ladder is suspended by climbing ropes above the trampoline which leads to the upper nest. A worn out mattress rests up here along with a colorful paintjob making the walls look like some sort of castle. It is also where I ran into a bit of trouble. Whilst climbing up to the house’s highest point, one of the climbing ropes holding up the ladder gave out. Luckily I was able to catch myself before tumbling all the way down. Maybe the trampoline would’ve held from my fall. Maybe it wouldn’t have. I’m glad I didn’t have to find out. Eventually, much like the Mantzel Family before me, the time came to say goodbye to this incredible place. Sun-burnt and bug-bitten, I bid farewell to the JME House and began my arduous quest back to the car. Down the mountain. Through the forest. Across the tunnel. Along the dirt road. Into town. Here at last, my journey came to an end and I began the long drive back home.

Many abandoned places have spoken to me over the years. But none have had a greater effect on me than this one has. Jaimie Mantzel is very much a man after my own heart. And getting a brief window into his incredible world was nothing short of miraculous. It’s nice to know there’s other creatives out there living their best lives. I’ve heard that the Mantzel Family is still very much active online and enjoy seeing their old home being appreciated. So if you guys are here, welcome! We hope you enjoy our work here at Abandoned Wonders. I was honestly quite nervous about finding the JME House. I was going to a place so few had explored, far away from my home, and without my better half. But now that my adventure is over, damn am I glad I went on it. Finding this magical place is something that I will never forget. And so, my friends, I have a challenge for all of you reading this article. And that is to go on an adventure. It can be as big or as small as you want it to be. It doesn’t have to be crazy far away or anything death-defying. But just attempt pushing yourself out of your comfort zone a little bit. Try something new. Go somewhere you’ve never seen. Get to know yourself. Maybe it will work out. Maybe it won’t. But no matter what happens, you’ll always have a story to tell. And that’s kind of what life is all about: the experience. Finding your place in the world. Because that’s how we grow as people. When adventure calls, sometimes you just have to answer it.

Lambs Become Lions – The Abandoned Sherwood Forest Zoo

Posted: February 22, 2023 by kingleser in #postaday, Abandoned, Abandoned Amusement Park, Abandoned Attractions, Abandoned Boston, Abandoned Business, Abandoned Connecticut, Abandoned Hartford, Abandoned Massachusetts, abandoned new england, Abandoned New Hampshire, Abandoned New York, Abandoned Park, Abandoned Pennsylvania, Abandoned Places, Abandoned Rhode Island, Abandoned Road, Abandoned USA, Abandoned Vermont, Abandoned Wonders, Abandoned Zoo, Art, Broken, Closed, commercial, Connecticut, darkness, Death, Destruction, Exploration, Forgotten, forgotten beauty, Ghosts, Graveyard, Hartford, Haunting, Hiking, History, Homeless, Information, left behind, lost, Love, Magic, Movies, Mystery, nature, new england, nightmares, overgrown, photography, Public Parks, research, Ruins, Safety First, Searching, State Parks, Stories, time, Uncategorized, Urban Decay, Urban Exploration, Urban Exploring, Urbex, writing
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Lambs Become Lions

The Abandoned Sherwood Forest Zoo

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

I’ve lived in Connecticut for pretty much my entire life. I’ve always liked it here. I make movies for a living, and being right smack in between New York and Boston really has its perks, aside from a few drawbacks. We believe in voting rights here. We support a woman’s right to choose. We have legalized cannabis. We were one of the only states in the Union to not have an election denier on the ballot during the midterms. And to top it all off, we arguably had the best response to the Covid-19 Pandemic in the entire country. And I think that was because as uptight as us Nutmeggers can be, deep down we really care about each other. We masked up. We got vaccinated. We trusted the science. And we all watched out for one and other the best we could. Whenever I’m out working on a movie or a TV show and someone asks me where in Connecticut I’m from, I always just say Hartford. Technically I live just outside it, but most people know about our capital city. It’s just easier. I will never forget working on a little show called “Dexter: New Blood” a few years back. A certain member of the main cast, who shall remain nameless, really bonded with me over Hartford. We talked about it everyday we were on set together. When he found out I was “from” there, he had a lot of questions about how the city has been doing. As a veteran performer and journeyman actor whose been in practically everything, he was no stranger to Hartford. I unfortunately didn’t have much of an answer for him. Because while our state of Connecticut continues to thrive, our capital city has always been troubled.

A huge tip of the hat goes to our friends at J&M Explorations for contacting us about this place. These two have supported us from the beginning, and they’re both really good people. They did an excellent video covering this place, which you should definitely check out here. And if you’ve got a moment, please do give them a Subscribe. We as artists always have to support each other. Because if we don’t, who else will? Our subject this month is the abandoned Sherwood Forest Zoo in Hartford, CT. Opening in the days following World War II, this small attraction was located in Keney Park. It housed all kinds of animals, from the local to the exotic. Spanning over twelve acres, guests of the zoo included seals, otters, wolves, reindeer, and skunks. There were multiple enclosures, primarily for mammals, and even an aquatic viewing exhibit. The original hope of the park was to try bringing a piece of nature into the inner city. But with this hope came great tragedy. There unfortunately were countless incidents during the park’s tenure involving severe animal cruelty, vandalism, and criminal activity. I won’t go into details about said incidents. Just believe me when I say some truly heinous acts were committed here. The zoo was eventually forced to close its doors for good in 1974. Though there were several attempted revivals, it eventually faded from memory.

We made our trek out to the abandoned zoo in early February. Every winter, we toy with the idea of taking the year off from exploring or retiring from it all together. But the call to adventure always wins out. Keney Park is a vast area in the Northeast side of Hartford, close to the Bloomfield and Windsor town lines. I knew this area of this city quite well after filming a project there several years ago. The park is mainly known for its golf course and recreation complexes. The remains of the zoo are located on the quieter side of the park. Good for exploring. Bad for parking. If you’ve got a vehicle that isn’t too low to the ground and know what you’re looking for, you’ll do just fine. To the untrained eye, the trail to the abandoned zoo looks just like any other trail around here. But after consulting an old map of Sherwood Forest Zoo, you can see that this was once a roadway providing the lifeblood of the park. We even found an ancient yellow “NO PARKING” sign off the beaten path. The remnants of the zoo are a short walk down the trail. Believe it or not, a rickety chain link fence still surrounds the perimeter. It gives the old park a very ghostly and foreboding feel. Though we were in the middle of the woods on a sunny day, there wasn’t a single sound in the air. We crossed over a fallen tree that had toppled a section of the fence, and made our way inside.

The first stop on the trail is the abandoned bathroom complex. It is small but sturdy. One side has been completely gutted, but the other still has its stalls and hand dryers. Though they are rusted to Hell, this was a really cool find. Following the chain link fence, we eventually came upon an abandoned enclosure that was very reminiscent of the abandoned Uconn Kennels that we covered several years ago. Two cement enclosures stand side by side inside of a pavilion. We believe that this was either the Prairie Dog Village or where the woodchucks were housed. Several large iron cage are scattered amongst the underbrush. We also found one very well preserved rabbit skull that was clearly a victim of some large predator. But the main attraction of this place is easily the remains of the aquatic viewing exhibit. We believe this is where the seals and/or otters were housed during the zoo’s heyday. It lies at the very back corner of the old park, right next to what remains of the old picnic area. The viewing windows are still standing, providing ghostly framed views of the derelict exhibit. And the main watershed room, memorable for it’s stark yellow paint job, has now been turned into a makeshift living quarters. A blue tarp hangs over the doorway, very reminiscent of a “Dexter” kill room. An old camping chair waits outside. Empty pill bottles are scattered across the grimy floor. Though we found nobody inside, someone has clearly been squatting inside this former attraction.

I honestly would recommend a visit to the abandoned Sherwood Forest Zoo. It is a unique look into a forgotten part of Hartford’s history. As I mentioned to you earlier, there have been several rumblings over the years about redeveloping the area. Though I strongly doubt the park will ever rise again, that doesn’t mean we can’t take something away from her story. “Rise and rise again, until lambs become lions.” This was the motto of the famous English literary character Robin Hood. He was a man who always fought and stood up for the people. He and his band of “merry men” found refuge from the law in the woods of Sherwood Forest. Which ironically is where this troubled attraction got its name from. But Robin Hood’s motto has been used as an inspiration for many throughout the years. The story of the abandoned Sherwood Forest Zoo will always be yet another scar on the face of Hartford, Connecticut. But if you’ve ever been to our capital, it truly is a beautiful place. I was there two weeks ago supporting the new Film/TV Tax Incentives. And hundreds of people work hard everyday to give this city a brighter future. Not by stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. But by always believing in their communities and never giving up. And so this is a salute, to the teachers, law enforcement officers, healthcare workers, community volunteers, and all the good people out there that fight to make Hartford a better place for all of us. Life is tough. But so are you.

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.

Once Upon a Time

The Abandoned Madame Sherri’s Castle

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Once Upon a Time, there were two explorers named Wilk and Lassie. They lived in a small house with their dog, guinea pig, and hedgehog. Oh, how Wilk and Lassie loved to explore. They had been North. They had been South. They had been East. And they had been West. They had seen just about everything there was to see. They watched with glee as their little blog grew from a few followers to over a thousand. Exploring was their favorite thing to do. And they were good at it. Until the dark times. Until the world as we all knew it came to an abrupt end. And poor Lassie and Wilk were stuck inside. Their pets enjoyed their company very much, but they longed to explore the great outdoors. So they found time here and there, when they couldn’t bear it anymore, to get outside and have some fun. But it was never quite the same. Still, they carried on. And explored whatever places they could during these times of great sorrow. Following the rules of this new world they found themselves in, they stayed close to home. Most of the time. Until one fateful day, they found a place they just couldn’t resist.

Our story begins a long time ago in a mythical place called New York City. An eccentric woman and her husband become famous in the City of Lights through show business. Oh yes. Antoinette Bramare and Andre Riela became quite the talk of the town wherever they went after striking it rich. One was an affluent costume designer. The other was a glamorous actress. And to embrace their new found fame, they change their last name to Sherri. But when Mister Sherri passed away, Madame Sherri took her fortune and fame to the wooded realm of New Hampshire. Here, she built a lavish castle to host parties and enjoy the Roaring Twenties in the middle of the woods. Everyone in the local community had heard of her and her socialite lifestyle. But eventually, her money ran out. The parties all drew to a close. The limelight faded. The curtain was called. And poor Madame Sherri died poor and alone shortly afterward. Her castle fell into disrepair, and eventually a fire caused by local miscreants in 1962 consumed the lavish palace. Now, all that remains are the ghosts of so very long ago and the legend of Madame Sherri.

And so, on a quiet summer day, Lassie and Wilk made their long trek up to the magical land of New Hampshire. They were sure to be prepared for this long journey. They passed many unique things along the way. The dark times had really changed the world around them. They listened to no music on the way up. They just talked and enjoyed each other’s company. Eventually, they came upon a long, narrow, dirt road. This was the way the directions told them to go, but it looked rather treacherous. They followed this road all by themselves for several miles, wondering if they were still going in the right direction. The houses along the road began to disappear, they soon found themselves deep in the forest. But it was here that the road came to an end at the head of the Wantastiquet Trail. This was the final stop that would lead them to their next path: the hike to the enchanted castle. Fortunately, this trek was not far at all. As the ruins of the castle were a mere short walk from the trail lot. A few minutes later, Lassie and Wilk found themselves gazing on a very unique site: the abandoned ruins of Madame Sherri’s Castle.

Though most of the castle now lies in ruin, what struck Lassie and Wilk the most was the so called “Stairway to Heaven.” This winding stone staircase is the only truly defining feature left of this former relic. When people think of Madame Sherri’s Castle, they think of this old abandoned wonder. It truly looks otherworldly, almost from a bygone era. Wilk loves to climb, and he wanted to climb the staircase really badly. But, Lassie advised him against it. Though the staircase is hauntingly beautiful, it is also very structurally unsafe. A crude sign even sits nearby reading, “Please do not climb the staircase.” Wilk found this unfortunate, but acceptable. He was in luck, though. Beneath the ruins of the castle is the old stone basement. It can be accessed through the air duct or from the outside. There is not much to see down here besides rubble, but it did provide our heroes with a welcome break from the heat. Up above, the old fireplace slowly crumbles into despair, while the stone pillars all stand firm and proud against the march of time. It was truly a mix of ruins and wonder. Some parts of the castle remain strong. Others are eroding away.

Wilk and Lassie don’t really like people. They prefer solitude on their adventures. And while Madame Sherri’s Castle is a true wonder to see, you will rarely be alone in these mighty woods. But, our explorers were able to get all the great photographs they needed and got a nice walk in. Satisfied with their prospects, they bid farewell to the fabled abandoned castle. Though parts of it are weathering away, the great soul and wonder of this place stands strong. Wilk and Lassie headed back to the car with smiles on their faces and excitement in their hearts. It was another long car ride home, though this one was filled with songs and tales of adventures long since passed. When they arrived home, their animals were quite happy to see them. And the feeling was mutual. As nightfall commenced, they each cracked open a beer and sat on their couch. Lassie began to look through her wonderful pictures. Wilk began writing his crazy article. And they both reminisced about how much they loved going on adventures together.

The End.

The Abstruse

The Abandoned Westledge Ski Slope

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

It’s an unusual word, isn’t it? Abstruse. I had never even heard of it before. I asked Lassie if she had either, but she had the same answer. “Is that even a real word?” Yes. Yes it is. You can look it up. Originally I had titled this article “The Obscure.” With the global pandemic still ravaging our homeland, we’ve had to get a little bit creative with the places that we visit. We don’t like to go too far, since we can’t really stop anywhere to grab a bite to eat or anything. We don’t like to leave the state, as we both still have jobs to do. And we both still believe in following the physical distancing guidelines. Plus we have covered pretty much every major abandoned place here in Connecticut. So…that kind of narrows down where we can and cannot visit right now. So as you can see if you’ve been following our blog for the last few months, our investigations have been kind of unconventional. A lot of them have been in the middle of the woods. They’ve also been ones that nobody in our community really pays attention to.

Allow me to introduce our latest subject: The abandoned Westledge Ski Slope. It all began in summer of 1969. If that song is now stuck in your head, you have my sympathies. Anyhow, the ski slope was built along the edges of Westledge Mountain to service the aptly named Westledge School. You see, skiing was becoming kind of the fad up here in New England during this time period. We have covered several other ski slopes in the past that followed very similar paths and suffered the same fates as Westledge. It was a big hit at first, servicing as a simple single-towing ski system used mostly by the students of the Westledge School. Their system was unique, as it was one of the first electrically operated towing lines. This had it’s advantages and disadvantages, for being efficient/quiet but also very slow. Unfortunately, Westledge School came under new ownership in 1978. The land that the ski slope operated on was divided up between the new school and the local land trust. And thus, the Westledge Ski Slope was no more.

Like I said earlier, we were a bit vexed on what to cover for our July piece. Due to the ever growing heat, we also wanted a place that didn’t involve too much hiking. I had stumbled on Westledge Ski Slope during the early days of the outbreak, and had kept it aside on my list of potential places. Since it was kind of obscure and fit all of our criteria, we decided to pay a visit. In the middle of July, we made our trek out to the area. Not wanting a repeat of our earlier adventure in Rhode Island, we were sure to bring lots of water and map out our route exactly. It had been a long time since I had been out to North Western Connecticut. And I had honestly forgotten how beautiful it was. We arrived at our destination, only to find that the parking area had been mysteriously closed. Luckily, we had mapped out our route better this time. We found a different one a short drive away. It made our hike a bit longer, but the forest out here truly is captivating. It was about a mile in before we came upon the abandoned ski slope.

The first thing to greet you here is the main attraction: the abandoned rope tow shed. It is a small but sturdy building, and honestly is quite funny looking in it’s own way. With a triangular roof and decorated with some bizarre oddities, the building is rather interesting. Inside is plenty of old machinery, but be wary as the floor is quite unstable. There are still several old utility poles standing around the shed, but they blend in quite well with the trees surrounding them. A few of these trees have random articles of clothing tied around them, such as ties, jackets, and shirts. I found that to be kind of strange. The slope itself is steep as bloody Hell. But we had to walk all the way down it. Along the way, the old post used as part of the rope tow system still stand. Unlike all of the other slopes we’ve seen in the past, they aren’t traditional posts per se. The wheel system was actually attached to the trees themselves. Over the years, the old metal wheels are slowly being devoured by the trees growing around them.

Eventually we made it to the bottom of the slope. Here, we found the wrecks of several old cars. But they were so overgrown, we couldn’t get the best pictures of them. Then came the hard part; getting back up the slope. I see now why this hill was used as a ski slope. But using the old wheel systems as breakpoints, we eventually made it to the top and began our hike back to the car. So is the abandoned Westledge Ski Slope worth a visit? Depends on your taste. You see, the word “abstruse” means obscure or mysterious. And that’s what places like this are. And usually for good reason. Aside from the rope tow shed, which is really cool, there isn’t much to see here. But if you’re looking for a good hike and something different, check it out. Places like this one usually don’t get enough attention these days. They end up getting lost to the pages of history. They are, as you would say, obscure. But like the word “abstruse,” just because you’d never heard of it before doesn’t make it any less interesting.

Walk With Me

The Abandoned Arcadia Campground

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

Walk with me. Let me tell you a story. It’s funny, I always prefer to walk and talk with someone as opposed to having a seat. Whether it be good news or bad news, a little bit of movement goes a long way. This is a story that I have never told on this site before. I have always wanted to, but never really found the right place for it. It’s about the biggest blunder in Abandoned Wonder’s history. Two years ago this summer, we went looking for a place called the Foam Dome. It was a peculiar structure abandoned in the woods of North Western Connecticut. I’m sure that at least a few of you here have heard of it, if not have seen it. We followed our usual game plan to a T. We did our research. We knew our route. We had good weather. We spent a good few hours trekking to the abandoned site. But when we finally found it, we discovered that it was in fact no longer there. We asked around, and found out it had been demolished five days before we got there. It was a really nice hike. But I was truly devastated. But, there was nothing we could’ve done differently. Sometimes in life you can do everything right, and still come up short.

June is my birthday month. And for my 29th birthday, I wanted to go see a place that I have always wanted to cover. This is the abandoned Arcadia Campground in Rhode Island. I have done a lot of research on this place, but have yet to find what it’s true name really was. So for now, we’re just going to call it the Arcadia Campground. Some sources have said that it was once affiliated with the local camps built by the Civilian Conservation Corps back during the Great Depression. If anyone has any concrete information, please feel free to share. The camp was set up like most summer camps: a dining hall. Cabins. A trading post. And a water tower. Over the years, this place served a lot of different purposes. But for reasons mostly unknown, it was left abandoned in the late 1970’s. Things went rather quiet after that. Until eventually the area was incorporated into the massive and beautiful Arcadia Wildlife Management Area. Now, the ghostly remains of this old workhorse serve only to haunt these magnificent woods.

Like I said earlier, this was my birthday. I have never liked my birthday. Everything just seems to usually go wrong on this day. It’s either that or I just put so much thought into it that it never quite lives up to the hype. Or maybe I’ve just seen too many movies. I don’t know. Something to ponder, I guess. Anyhow, we made the long trek into the Ocean State early in the day. I love Rhode Island. There were times early in my acting career that I spent more time out of the year there than here in Connecticut. This was my first trip back since January. Just like the Foam Dome trip, we had everything planned out. We did our research. We knew our route. We were in good spirits. We started off down the long winding trail and into the woods. But as time wore on and the trail continued to get rockier, we began to wonder if we were heading in the right direction. Long story short, we ended up going four miles in the wrong direction before finally finding our target. It was a long, frustrating, and brutal journey. But eventually the old camp loomed out of the forest. And to be honest, the abandoned Arcadia Campground really didn’t disappoint.

The trail legit runs right through the abandoned campground. You really cannot miss it. It is quiet. It is creepy. It is haunting. The place feels quite lonely. Clusters of rotting old cabins stand silently together. A massive stone fireplace stands in the middle of the clearing where the mess hall once stood. The old water tower looms over the campsite, nearly lost amongst the fading treetops. Aside from the large and littered fire pit, this place seems totally untouched by vandals. But that’s probably because it’s in the middle of the woods. You really have to want to see this place to make the long journey out to see it. What makes the abandoned camp interesting is that most of it’s old structures are made of wood. While many of the cabins have collapsed under the weight of time, the majority of them are still standing. Given their age and history, it’s a true testament to the folks who once built them. The storage bins that were once used by campers can still be seen inside, though the floors are quite unstable. The wood may be rotting. And the metal may be rusted. But even after all these years, the abandoned camp is somehow still standing.

I have included the story on the Foam Dome in this piece just to give it some closure. There were times on this walk that I honestly thought we weren’t going to find the abandoned campsite. I thought that maybe the old structures had finally had enough and collapsed. Miles away from our destination, I feared that this place could eclipse the Foam Dome as the greatest disappointment we’d ever had on our quest into the unknown. But that was not to be. And I honestly give all the credit to my partner Lassie for pushing us on into the woods, and to not give up until we found our location. Whether it was still there or not. And yes, after all of it, we did finally find what we were looking for. But like I said way back in the long long ago, thus is life. You can sometimes do everything right and still come up short. But that doesn’t mean you should give up. There will be trials. There will be tribulations. There will be set-backs. Life will lead you astray. And sometimes, you just have to do a little bit of wandering until you find your way.

Howling of the Hybrids

The Abandoned UConn Kennels

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

It’s rare for me to do this, but I feel like I must speak my mind. I’m a writer. I’ve been doing this since I was eleven years old. It has been my one true gift as far back as I can remember, whether I wanted it to be or not. And as a writer, you want people to read your words. You want people to listen to your stories and feel your voice. But not this time. This is one of those rare pieces where I ask that you discontinue reading. This article really isn’t for the faint of heart. As a dog lover, this story rocked me to my core. When I had first heard of this place, I didn’t think there would be much to it. But the more digging I did, the more horrors I uncovered. I’m talking animal abuse. Genetic experimentation. Dark science. Murder. Grim subjects, all around. It’s one of those tales so bizarre, you can’t believe that you’ve never heard about it before. Again, I ask that you discontinue here. This story is not going to be pretty.

If you must continue reading, then allow me to set the stage: The University of Connecticut, the late 1970’s. A graduate student conducts the successful breeding of male coyotes with female beagle dogs to produce what we have come to call “coydogs.” Three generations are successfully created. They are housed in a kennel outside of the Biological Science unit in the UConn Forest. Though the experiments are bizarre, the animals are said to have been well taken care of. That is until 1983. One of the pups is kidnapped by two unknown assailants. She was then tortured and beaten to death. The story caught national attention. It severely derailed the genetic experimentation program, but it attempted to continue none the less. And unfortunately, this was not the first and would not be the last tragic animal death during this time on campus. After this unspeakable tragedy and it’s founder’s graduation, the entire experiment is believed to have collapsed. But the kennels where her work was conducted still stand.

It was late spring of 2020 when we finally made our trek into the UConn Forest to find what was left of this phantom facility. May is the perfect time of year for a good hike. Not too hot. Not too cold. Just right. But I warn you now that this place is not an easy find. If you do your research, follow the directions, and crack the code you will find this place no problem. If you don’t, you can and will spend hours combing through the forest looking for it. Full disclosure, that’s what happened to us. We parked in the wrong spot, and almost didn’t end up finding what we were looking for. The UConn Forest truly is just so vast and so full of the weirdest things imaginable. You could honestly spend days out there and never see the same thing twice. On our journey, we came across abandoned lawn equipment, countless fire pits, wild dogs, trails to nowhere, and a group of bros on a fishing trip. But eventually, we solved the riddle and found the old facility. And although there may not be too much left, this place certainly was quite creepy.

First coming upon the abandoned kennel, it very much looks like an old zoo paddock. An eight foot tall wooden fence surrounds the perimeter. There is even a swinging wooden gate to enter the kennel that’s very reminiscent of Jurassic Park. But this place is much more like that movie’s sequel, if you know what I mean. The weeds and plants have grown wild and dangerous. Some old wiring and tech has been left behind, but it’s all been rusted to Hell. At the far east corner, there is an old observation window. Most of the wood has rotted, but it still provides a chilling window into the past. The true sight to see here though are the two enclosures. Both surrounded by old chain link fences, there are two small  concrete doghouses standing side by side to each other. They have both been defaced with graffiti, and completely barren inside. One even has an old chair positioned on top of it for some reason. The place is also full of birds and chipmunks, who have clearly moved back in to reclaim this forgotten facility as their own.

We were both quiet on our long walk back to the car. I don’t know why. We were hot. We were hungry. But we also just couldn’t seem to shake the feeling of sorrow. It was tough to find this place. But it has also been tough to write about it. Very few have covered it in the past, and I can see why. There is so very little information out there. And what I did find, I wish I hadn’t. Much like Tiger King or Wild Wild Country, I just can’t quite believe that stuff like this actually happened. It’s all just so bizarre and truly beyond belief. But I guess that’s what makes stuff like the abandoned UConn Kennels stand out from the crowd. There may not be too much to see at the actual site. It’s no Undercliff Sanatorium or Mansfield Training School. But walking through the abandoned kennels, I could just tell that bad things had happened here. There was just such grimness and hopelessness nestled amongst the sprouting trees. This is a place that never should’ve existed. It is just one of those stories that I wish I could forget, but never will.

And Then There Was Darkness

The Abandoned Clinton Tunnel

Written by: Wilk

Photographs by: Lassie

I haven’t been sleeping well lately. Not for a long time. It’s a scary thing, sometimes. You’re a prisoner in your own mind, but you’re also the guard of it. You’re the only one who can get yourself to sleep, but just can’t seem to find the path. You just kind of walk around trying your damnedest to function in a perpetual state of fog. Things appear and disappear at will. You hear things that aren’t really there. And you sometimes wonder what is real and was is not. You can lie awake in the dark for hours. If you have an alarm clock, it feels like that alarm could come at any second. Sometimes you find comfort in thinking that it is right around the corner. But then these seconds turn into minutes. Those minutes into hours. And what was supposed to be right around the corner turns into a lifetime. Every once in awhile, you fade in and out of reality. Dreams come and go. You feel like you might actually be getting some rest. But you never really rest. It’s all just an illusion. Or, is it? The thoughts come and go. And then there was darkness.

Since I’ve got your attention, allow me to introduce our subject for today. This is the abandoned Clinton Tunnel. She is truly a marvel to behold, running just shy of a quarter of a mile underground. First constructed in the early 1900’s, the tunnel was once apart of the state’s longest running railroad pipeline. It was built going through a hill and heading toward a bridge going over the nearby Wachusett Reservoir. This area in particular had a lot of construction and organized flooding during this time to meet the growing demands of nearby Boston. From here, these railroads carried goods and passengers all across New England for many years. But that time was not to last. With the end of the industrial revolution, things began to grow quiet. The demand for railroad traffic began to dwindle, and the abundance of this once great industry began to wane. By the 1970’s, the bridge over the Wachusett Reservoir had been demolished. And with that, Clinton Tunnel became totally abandoned.

We made the trek to Clinton Tunnel on a grey Spring Sunday. Things were quiet on the way up. And the tunnel lies right off the side of the road. It’s great stone archways are like the Mines of Moria: a grand gateway into the dark. The first half of the tunnel is paved all the way around, from the sides to the ceilings. It still very much looks like an old train tunnel. The walls are coated with graffiti and the floor is all dirt. But the other half is pure stone and has a very cave-like appearance to it. It reminded me very much of The Decent, especially with the constant echo of dripping water. We had heard many stories of just how bad the water levels could get inside of the tunnel, and we had planned our visit on a day where it hadn’t rained in some time. But it turns out that there is no good time to visit Clinton Tunnel, since there was still tons of water. There’s water falling from the ceiling. There’s water flooding the path. There’s water dripping down the stone siding. It’s just everywhere. All sorts of trash and filth float amongst it.

Though only a quarter mile long, the tunnel can seem never ending. But the North end of the tunnel is where things can get a little weird. Frogs, both dead and alive, decorate the muddier patches of water. The train path continues to an old overpass, which now serves as a bridge for a lonely back country road. The great stone borders glisten with moss and mist. While we were photographing the North end, we noticed two strangers standing at the far side of the tunnel. We caught them in a photograph just standing there, staring at us. Maybe they were contemplating walking through themselves. Maybe they couldn’t quite figure out why someone would trek that far out. Or maybe they were just marveling at the tunnel’s majesty. I don’t know. But then, up on the quiet road, a lone car pulled up. It just sat there. Watching us. For a time, I thought they were just looking at the tunnel. But after awhile, it started to get weird. They took off as soon as I waved at them. It was then that we decided it was time to leave.

A great man once said, “With insomnia, you’re never really awake; but you’re never really asleep.” That’s what walking through the abandoned Clinton Tunnel was like; stuck in the void between two different dimensions. There’s never total darkness, but there’s never much light either. You’re underground, but you don’t really feel like it. No matter how deep you get, the end always feels like it’s right around the corner. We’ve seen countless other tunnels like this one get renovated and become part of walking trails. But not this one. It is truly an adventurer’s gutter. Filled with darkness. Trash. And mystery. If you wish to take the plunge into the abandoned tunnel, heed our warnings. As far as I know, visiting is completely legal. Wear your boots. Bring your flashlights. And don’t forget your hand sanitizer. You have to touch the walls a few times if you want to make it to the other side. And once you start, don’t ever lose sight of the light at the end of the tunnel.

Frozen Hearts

The Abandoned Eyrie House

Written by: Wilk

Photographs: Lassie

Damn, these times are hard. We can’t go to places we want to go. We can’t get the things that we need. We can’t do the things that we want to do. I am stuck inside day in and day out doing voice-overs. Lassie does what she can around the house. But our dog sure does love the company. Some birds just aren’t meant to be caged. See, we have a system when we go exploring. Since it’s usually a long drive, we always go out for a drink and a hot meal afterwards. If there’s a used bookstore or a vintage toy store in the vicinity, we’ll check that out as well. But we can’t do any of that right now. And that sucks. I made a list at the beginning of the year of places I wanted to explore all over New England. We’ve sadly had to postpone most of that. Stress the word most. It’s hard to stay positive in this situation, but we’re going to do our best. There’s always a couple of local places I keep on the back burner just in case. And while today’s subject may not be much to look at, but she is a legend in these parts.

This is the abandoned Eyrie House. We have covered a lot of places in the Mount Tom area of Western Massachusetts in the past, but this one has always evaded us. First opening in 1861, this place has seen a lot of history. She started life as a hotel overlooking the absolutely picturesque valleys of the Holyoke area. But the hotel faced a lot of competition, and business began to decline over the years. Much like the nearby ruins of the Apsinwall Hotel in Lenox, the Eyrie House met an unfortunate end due to vicious fires. Legend has it that the owner of the Eyrie House was alone at the hotel, and attempted to cremate one of his fallen horses in 1901. The fire got out of control, and with help so very far away, the Eyrie House never had a chance. The hotel burned to the ground in a fiery inferno, leaving behind only her sturdy stone frame. The grounds were eventually sold off to the local government and added onto the Mount Tom State Park area.

I first went looking for the Eyrie House way back in the summer of 2017. I had a rehearsal/table read up in Amherst early one Saturday morning, and decided to stop for a hike on my way back. But when confronted with the in-season $10 parking fee, I decided to save it for another time. Flash forward to 2020. Given its proximity, long/lonely hike in, and the current situation of social distancing, we decided that the Eyrie House would be a perfect trip for our March article. An unexpected snow had fallen the day before, and we were both getting a serious case of Cabin Fever. So we hopped in the car and went for a drive. The Mount Tom park can be tricky. Like I said earlier, we had covered other abandoned attractions in the area before. And each one had it’s own way in. Today was no exception. Our directions took us down a quiet country road to a road-side dirt parking lot. From there, it was a two mile hike in to the abandoned Eyrie House.

It was a long and icy climb to the ruins. But we were mostly alone. We slipped and slid all the way up. But we made it. There may not be too much to see here, but the ruins of this place certainly are special. The great stone frame looms over the Connecticut River valley. The old archways still project a strong sense of grandeur. And the area has clearly been protected and cherished for a long time. But the one thing I took away and will always remember about the abandoned Eyrie House was the frozen heart. While walking along the outer frame of the house, I found a patch of ice. It was frozen into the almost perfect shape of a heart. Though the sun was setting, and the breeze was chilling, I couldn’t help but take it as a sign of hope. Most may not believe such things, but I do. Hopefully, someday soon, this time of great sorrow shall lift. But until that day comes, let’s all stay strong. Be thankful for what you have. And watch out for each other.

EY5

“Don’t allow our doubts of today limit our tomorrow.” -Franklin D. Roosevelt