la cuna
n. a twinge of sadness that there’s no frontier left, that as the last explorer trudged with his armies toward a blank spot on the map, he didn’t suddenly remember his daughter’s upcoming piano recital and turn for home, leaving a new continent unexplored so we could set its mists and mountains aside as a strategic reserve of mystery, if only to answer more of our children’s questions with “Nobody knows! Out there, anything is possible.” – The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows
I’d like to think this blog perpetuates the spirit of using your hometown or state as a playground – with the intent of experiencing things you’ve never experienced before, in a world which has largely been charted. Or maybe in some way, the credo of the San Francisco based suicide club, which was a 70s era underground social organization that coordinated rogue events and meetups in abandoned spaces – their motto was to live “each day as if it was the last”. They might also be the ‘original’ urban explorers, at least in the way of the modern day interpretation.
When I was in my teens and early 20s, I had an inchoate disposition and disenchantment with Vermont, when I was hungrily eyeing my friends out of state escapades to rambling abandoned asylums, industrial forests and galvanizing military ruins. Well, I’m still very into all that stuff. But…
While I did manage to plan a few adventures elsewhere, I had lost sight of the simple things I used to rely on, and the original spark that conceived this blog – what started my love of derelict sites and points labeled by people somewhere in the broad classification of “weird” – an edge I’ve always seemed to haunt.
Now I’m bringing it all back home again, re-chasing the excitement of discovery and the wonderment and burning fumes of seeing things I’ve never seen before, and trying my hardest to wander to unique content and that isn’t getting ruined on Instagram due to absurd amounts of tourism and deliberate belligerence.
There aren’t many things as enjoyable to me as going backroading with my camera, windows down and a Spotify playlist coming through my speakers. Autumn and coffee are added bonuses. There’s always a thrill and a grin when I cover more ground in the great state I live in – and I always love it when fellow Vermonters or Vermont enthusiasts reach out and share their own favorite spots.
I’m better in the spring when the earth begins to breathe again.
After that treacherous “polar vortex” that froze Vermont over for a few miserable weeks, a 60-degree day was ecstasy. So, of course, I went out exploring! Taking the the road less traveled as much as I could, I engaged in some blinding searchlight work, hoping to find something that would drift through my blood and bring the fireworks. And I did.
This old house, most likely built at the threshold of nuclear-aged development is now almost entirely consumed by mangy looking cedar trees that cast the odorous property in continuous chilling shadow – inconspicuous on a shitty road that slowly wanes from suburbia to meadowland. A sad eulogy for its once inhabiting family and a prototype of the dark promises of the American dream.
I couldn’t believe at just how much was left behind here. Some rooms seemed to be almost entirely furnished still. Family photos still lay in their frames on the walls. Personal paperwork was left in piles. Dishes, silverware, clothes, very 70s furniture, handwritten notes, all left for disfigurement to come in and nest. It makes you wonder why and how these places end up the way they do. I don’t think humans and the clatter of their chains will ever not fascinate me. I also realized upon leaving that parts of the foundation had entirely crumbled into the dank cellar below, making me realize that the whole house could have potentially collapsed at any point I was inside.
The title of this blog entry was swiped from a beautifully dark Elliot Smith song of the same name. I thought it was fitting, if not a little ironic.
Since 2012, I’ve been seeking out venerable examples of Vermont weirdness, whether that be traveling around the state or taking to my internet connection and digging up forsaken places, oddities, esoterica, and unique natural features. And along the way, I’ve been sharing it with you on my website, Obscure Vermont. This is what keeps my spirit inspired.
I never expected Obscure Vermont to get as much appreciation and fanfare as it’s getting, and I’m truly grateful and humbled. Especially in recent years, where I’ve gained the opportunity to interact with and befriend more oddity lovers and outside the box thinkers around Vermont and New England. As Obscure Vermont has grown, I’ve been growing with it, and the developing attention is keeping me earnest and pushing me harder to be more introspective and going further into seeking out the strange.
I spend countless hours researching, writing, and traveling to keep this blog going. Obscure Vermont is funded almost entirely by generous donations. Expenses range from hosting fees to keep the blog live, investing in research materials, travel expenses and the required planning, and updating/maintaining vital tools such as my camera and my computer. I really pride and push myself to try to put out the best of what I’m able to create, and I gauge it by only posting stuff that I personally would want to see on the glow of my computer screen.
I want to continuously diversify how I write and the odd things I write about. Your patronage would greatly help me continue bringing you cool and unusual content and keep me doing what I love!
