In keeping in the spirit of the theme Tabula Rasa and I have inadvertently been on I give you this, a place of transitions between elevations.
Keeping with the theme of late, and matching the Idiot Photographer blow for blow, I present to you: more stairs.
A topic not often broached among urbexers, unless in bragging of its disregard, is danger. Now, I’m not trying to present us as brave adventurers á la Indiana Jones, but we do face risks. Nothing exemplifies these risks better than stairs. We do try to be careful; some flights we will only take one person at a time, others are felt out a step at a time with a tripod. These little cautions are really rudimentary; one can only hope that one doesn’t follow in the footsteps of Richard Nickel, the godfather of modern urban explorers, who died when a portion of the building he was photographing collapsed onto him. So it is that we each choose one of the three paths when confronting our risks: fate, faith, or fatalism. None are particularly efficacious at warding off imminent catastrophic structural failure, but are the crutches we use to be able to climb those stairs nevertheless. Ultimately, the only practical advice to be given on the subject of climbing that last flight of stairs is: don’t look down.
One of the great parts of winter exploring is not knowing what is under all that snow.
The tallest point in the Packard automotive plant is the water tower, visible for miles around. We were told by “security” that the new owners of the property intend on preserving it, an engineering goal sure to be made more difficult since the all four of the tower’s legs have been severed by scrappers. Indeed, the weight of the whole tower rests on the concrete floor of the second story. Here it stands framed by debris, seen from the roof of a building on the north end of the complex.
Trees sprout from the crumbling Packard edifice; the General Motors headquarters looms victorious over its long-vanquished rival.
There is a cemetery just across the tracks to the west of the Packard plant, something which is often overlooked both literally and figuratively. Having consumed many Reese’s confections as a child and possessing the superior artistic acumen that comes with having a blog, I quickly descried two great things that go great together. Should I be accused of being maudlin, or of laying it on too thick, I will gladly stand those slings and arrows to bring you this, the photograph that goes to eleven. Ladies and gentlemen, kids in lycra capes and cheap eyeliner, I give you: gravestones as seen from inside a ruined factory.