I haven't been exploring for a bit, yeah. I've noticed a seasonal pattern that wasn't super deliberate to my exploring--though I did break it once for the hell of it, and that is on my "to post" list--but largely I got benched. Physical therapy, again. I did just get given a mostly clean bill of health, but I'm also down for the count for a bit longer because I somehow managed to sprain my foot. My foot! Not even my ankle. Lame. (I wasn't even exploring. I didn't even fall. I rolled my ankle at work.) When I do get back on the horse, I marked at least seven houses for me, most of them looking low-risk structurally, so I have that going for me.
In the meantime, I do have a few explorations to burn, starting with my most recent. Where I got caught. (The story is sorta lame compared to most, probably.)
This road is high traffic. The last time I did an exploration on a high traffic road, there was a city hall I could park at within easy walking distance. However, this was the right mix of rural and urban enough that while there'd be lots of cars passing, there was no public parking anywhere nearby. I'd have to just pretend my car belonged there. (And unfortunately, my car sucks at blending in. This is the key to how I got caught, I'm sure of it.) Note to self: perhaps park further off of the road?
The door pushed open easily, breaking nature's seal of dead vines.
Another view. Phonebooks I found in the house suggested an abandonment date of 1997. (That was the latest dated thing of anything in the house, though you'll hopefully not blame me for...)
Not rifling through his Time Magazine collection. It was damn impressive, too. Some of the covers, glancing through, went as far back as Nixon's inauguration. (Second term.)
This guy was a freaking
hoarder. And I say guy, because the only things in the house addressed to something were addressed to a male only. It's pretty common for someone who lived through the Great Depression, even at a very young age. (My neighbor also showed the psychological scars, and the hoarding issue.) I suspect this to be the reason, with a recognition that I might well be reaching, because of the indications of this person being potentially in that age range, and that my exploration suggested that he was really into canning, also something that could be linked.
Reasoning aside, I couldn't get into some rooms, or find "beauty in the clutter" because there was just too much clutter. I found multiple golf club sets, more board games than I can count, every Time Magazine (and Farmer Almanac) this guy probably was ever sent, trinkets, and so on. There were some half-hearted attempts to box things up, and a sticker on one of the dishes in the next photograph shows an attempt at a garage sale.
The rest of the phone was right by this hole. I can't quite picture how this happened. But it was off to the basement I went.
The basement was, uh, basement-like, I guess? It's the first time I went into a basement in an exploration. (I skipped one. The stairs were rotting a bit, and I had no lights at the time.)
I'll be honest, not a basement fan to begin with, and I was getting a bit of an American Horror Story Pilot vibe from the jars. It was one of those inevitabilities, I guess. I knew I'd find food eventually. At least it was sealed. But I didn't want to be in that basement any longer. So I headed outside.
There was a stable (I suspect) that had collapsed entirely. It had more jars out there, but whatever was in those jars had turned to dust.
The building in the following photo was the only protected building on the property, and it might well be why my car was discovered.
While I got a fairly comforting vibe from the owner of the main house--especially when I briefly went back in to find the upstairs (last photo)--I was a bit put off by the guy who lived in this trailer. I don't think he and I would get along.
I just find that kinda tacky.
Otherwise, the thing was clearly in a renovation attempt, that had been abandoned, which was likely why someone had attempted to lock it once, but someone long before I had gotten there had ripped the whole lock mechanism to shreds. All it did was let animals in.
This was my favorite find. I felt a kindred spirit with the man living in this house at this point. (Looking up that book set on amazon shows that it's essentially the equivalent of an online course before that was a thing. Cool! It felt scammy, but I guess it was semi-legit.)
I was searching through everything, trying to see if I could find some of his photos before I heard a car door slam and saw a guy circle my car. I glanced out the window and examined my options. The back window upstairs was open, and getting down through the outside would be a lot easier than getting up, which was definitely impossible from the outside. Could I manage a "daring" escape? Not very likely.
He found me pretty much immediately, which impressed me considering I'd opened no doors on the interior to get up there. Told him I was a dumbass with a camera, I didn't want anything from the house, didn't take anything, touch anything, and everything was still in its place.
There are a few rooms I didn't get to, and it itches at me in my mind--as does the idea of seeing if there are any of the owner's stills in the Famous Photographer's books, but there are lots of places I could go where I'm not being watched for.