Forgotten Exploration (a tale of but one of my exploits)
The heat was almost unbearable. My clothes were soaked and heavy with sweat. I'd been hiking through the dense woods for nearly three hours. I could have covered a lot more ground had I not been leading two other people along with me. Normally I could traverse nearly any landscape with little regard for my own safety, but now I was having to find the easiest path possible. Fortunately I remembered to bring my machete. I've been searching for this place for two weeks straight. Someone told me about it one night while discussing things of the paranormal nature. He promised to meet with me the next weekend and arrange to take me there. He said the easiest way to get to the location was to repel down to it. He'd bring the equipment and give me a crash course. He mentioned some interesting structures constructed on the outcroppings along the face of the cliff. He never arrived at our arranged meeting point. A week later I was informed that he'd been killed in an accident. All I had to go off of was a vague description. But I'd followed the clues and I was determined to find it.
Eventually I discovered the first signs of civilization. Limestone rocks, speckled with pale green moss and arranged to form the foundation of a modest dwelling. A few feet away, steps had been carved into the stone ridge. Upon closer inspection I noticed names and initials that had been chiseled into the steps. Years of weathering had made them hard to decipher. I descended the staircase and pushed my way through more thick brush. My arms were stinging from the sweat cascading over fresh scratches made by bramble bushes. I could feel my boot starting to fill with blood from a two-inch thorn that had impaled my leg an hour earlier.
Pausing for a moment to catch my breath, I could barely make out the sound of gently rushing water. Just beyond the shrubs and saplings I spotted out the outline of a building. All of my time, and effort, and pain were about to pay off. Dilapidated houses lined the flowing spring on both sides. Most had collapsed into themselves from years of natural decay. One house had a large tree protruding through the rusted tin roof. There was scarcely any sign of roads, paths or walkways that had undoubtedly existed there previously.
Near the mouth of the spring was a two story concrete building, the first floor being constructed into the side of a hill. A milky white stain covered the windows in thick streaks, making it hard to see inside. A broken pane on the second story provoked me into scaling the hill in search of a better view inside. The building was completely vacant, save for a round hole in the floor separating the two stories. I applied a moderate amount of pressure to one of the windows and it opened with a grinding squeak. I started to climb into the opening but paused when I heard the one sound that strikes terror into my heart. As a child I was a target for flying stinging insects. I was convinced they traveled for miles just to find me. So when I heard the all to familiar buzzing sound above me, I slowly looked up. To my horror, I witnessed a sight that to this day still gives me cold chills every time I think about it. The entire ceiling on the second story had been converted into one giant wasp nest. There were thousands, perhaps ten of thousands of red and black wasps crawling and flying around the top of the room. I slowly eased my way back out of the window and decided to explore elsewhere.
Next to what was obviously the old firehouse, stood a small brick building, no larger than a bus stop shelter. The tiny hut was filled with rusted iron pipes, gages and valves. This was apparently a pump station used for extracting water from the underground springs. Likely this was used to supply the firehouse with a constant water supply. A few yards away I spotted some pitted iron beams. After clearing away some of the overgrowth, I discovered that it was part of a rail system that lead to a now flooded cave just a few hundred yards away.
Farther down stream I found more evidence of houses and other large structures possibly that of shops and storefronts; now reduced to piles of rotting lumber. While looking around some of the foundations I wondered toward the rugged cliff face, which as promised, was dotted with small houses connected together by narrow steps carved into the rocks. Climbing up the cliff gave me a better vantage of the forgotten town. There was an obvious sinkhole that had filled with water making a small pond that had likely swallowed a few structures along the streambed. Beyond that I could see a few rooftops peeking over and through the lush vegetation. I quickly made my way back down the cliff and toward the hulking remains. Among the buildings I discovered a cemetery. Of the marked graves with legible inscriptions, dates ranged from the mid 1800s until just after the civil war. Some graves were indeed those of fallen soldiers from both the north and the south. Unceremoniously forgotten when the town was abandoned.
The shadow of the nearby cliff slowly swallowed the valley as the sun moved from view. It was a long treacherous hike back to the car; fatigue and blood loss would make it seem twice as hard as the approaching trip. I'd sworn my traveling companions to secrecy, just as I have yielded the location of this ghost town to no one. The following week I began researching the history of the town, but to this day I've found no evidence of its existence. None of the ghost town maps show anything anywhere near that area, nor do the historical records and hand drawn maps from the mid 1800s (I really hate living in a bastard state). Perhaps someday I'll find a document that confirms the location and perchance finally provide me with a name to the now rotting corps that was once a bustling community.
Each time I think of that place, I always envision the view from the top of a jagged outcropping, and recall my thoughts as I surveyed the obfuscated layout. No matter what we do; no matter what happens while we occupy this land; nature will eventually reclaim everything...just as it has this town.
Eventually I discovered the first signs of civilization. Limestone rocks, speckled with pale green moss and arranged to form the foundation of a modest dwelling. A few feet away, steps had been carved into the stone ridge. Upon closer inspection I noticed names and initials that had been chiseled into the steps. Years of weathering had made them hard to decipher. I descended the staircase and pushed my way through more thick brush. My arms were stinging from the sweat cascading over fresh scratches made by bramble bushes. I could feel my boot starting to fill with blood from a two-inch thorn that had impaled my leg an hour earlier.
Pausing for a moment to catch my breath, I could barely make out the sound of gently rushing water. Just beyond the shrubs and saplings I spotted out the outline of a building. All of my time, and effort, and pain were about to pay off. Dilapidated houses lined the flowing spring on both sides. Most had collapsed into themselves from years of natural decay. One house had a large tree protruding through the rusted tin roof. There was scarcely any sign of roads, paths or walkways that had undoubtedly existed there previously.
Near the mouth of the spring was a two story concrete building, the first floor being constructed into the side of a hill. A milky white stain covered the windows in thick streaks, making it hard to see inside. A broken pane on the second story provoked me into scaling the hill in search of a better view inside. The building was completely vacant, save for a round hole in the floor separating the two stories. I applied a moderate amount of pressure to one of the windows and it opened with a grinding squeak. I started to climb into the opening but paused when I heard the one sound that strikes terror into my heart. As a child I was a target for flying stinging insects. I was convinced they traveled for miles just to find me. So when I heard the all to familiar buzzing sound above me, I slowly looked up. To my horror, I witnessed a sight that to this day still gives me cold chills every time I think about it. The entire ceiling on the second story had been converted into one giant wasp nest. There were thousands, perhaps ten of thousands of red and black wasps crawling and flying around the top of the room. I slowly eased my way back out of the window and decided to explore elsewhere.
Next to what was obviously the old firehouse, stood a small brick building, no larger than a bus stop shelter. The tiny hut was filled with rusted iron pipes, gages and valves. This was apparently a pump station used for extracting water from the underground springs. Likely this was used to supply the firehouse with a constant water supply. A few yards away I spotted some pitted iron beams. After clearing away some of the overgrowth, I discovered that it was part of a rail system that lead to a now flooded cave just a few hundred yards away.
Farther down stream I found more evidence of houses and other large structures possibly that of shops and storefronts; now reduced to piles of rotting lumber. While looking around some of the foundations I wondered toward the rugged cliff face, which as promised, was dotted with small houses connected together by narrow steps carved into the rocks. Climbing up the cliff gave me a better vantage of the forgotten town. There was an obvious sinkhole that had filled with water making a small pond that had likely swallowed a few structures along the streambed. Beyond that I could see a few rooftops peeking over and through the lush vegetation. I quickly made my way back down the cliff and toward the hulking remains. Among the buildings I discovered a cemetery. Of the marked graves with legible inscriptions, dates ranged from the mid 1800s until just after the civil war. Some graves were indeed those of fallen soldiers from both the north and the south. Unceremoniously forgotten when the town was abandoned.
The shadow of the nearby cliff slowly swallowed the valley as the sun moved from view. It was a long treacherous hike back to the car; fatigue and blood loss would make it seem twice as hard as the approaching trip. I'd sworn my traveling companions to secrecy, just as I have yielded the location of this ghost town to no one. The following week I began researching the history of the town, but to this day I've found no evidence of its existence. None of the ghost town maps show anything anywhere near that area, nor do the historical records and hand drawn maps from the mid 1800s (I really hate living in a bastard state). Perhaps someday I'll find a document that confirms the location and perchance finally provide me with a name to the now rotting corps that was once a bustling community.
Each time I think of that place, I always envision the view from the top of a jagged outcropping, and recall my thoughts as I surveyed the obfuscated layout. No matter what we do; no matter what happens while we occupy this land; nature will eventually reclaim everything...just as it has this town.
