The village we were on an adventure in had a railroad in it. No major trains had ever stopped there, as it was just the end of a line of a side track connecting a large local factory to the main network. The rails were still there although they hadn’t seen much use after the factory was closed down.
There had even been a station. It had been demolished years ago, but Station Street was still visible on the map and street signs. We decided to go see what we’d find from there.
There were so much grass and branches, that the narrow street was almost overgrown. But we didn’t have to walk far before we found a building of interest.
The building stood by the railroad and its architecture was very similar to that of other railroad buildings from the same era. That made us deduce, that while it wasn’t the station, it had something to do with the railroad.
Access was once again denied through the doors, so we had to see if there were other ways inside.
Sure enough the windows on the backside were smashed. Now the only problem was to manage to climb high enough
Perhaps the bike could give me a hand.
With the help of the bike and my friend I was able to get high enough. I was greeted by a mess.
All walls had been messed with black and bright green spray and wallpaper had been torn down. This was the case with every room in the building.
Somebody had even thrown a bike in through one of the windows. Perhaps it was for getting in.
The fate of the oven was particularly irritating. Those things are rare and valued nowadays, but not by some, it seems.
A room in the front of the house shows that most of the windows on that side had been blocked using plywood.
This bed made of steel is famous in Finland. It’s called the Heteka.
The old doors had probably been equipped with glass panels and would’ve been really beautiful had they been intact.
I’ve never really understood what the point in drawing your name or your postal code on the wall of an abandoned house is. Doesn’t this after all increase the likelihood of you getting caught?
The kitchen featured one of the old wood heated stoves and a wonderful turqouise paint.
It was on the roadside, so the windows were blocked. The wood on the floor is either smashed cupboards or from the doors.
The entrance, which was blocked from the outside. If I remember correctly, this door read “Death behind this door”. Does this mean, I’m death now?