Same evening, same journey and a sight, which stopped us. A very old, large farm house, which was located behind a field, which grows weed.
It was quite a trip to find a way through the field, which grew all kinds of nasty things. But we made it.
An impressive collection of former garden chairs and rainwater bins waited us on the other side.
There was a large porch, which had almost completely collapsed. Chunks of its outer walls were missing.
The damage was so bad, it was pretty difficult to find a way inside.
I made it, my friend didn’t. They chose to wait outside while I started my exploration. The way further was blocked by a massive pile of cardboard boxes.
The amount of moldy cardboard boxes inside was just stunning.
And it was present in every single room which was accessible from the collapsing porch.
There was absolutely no way to escape it. Or to go around it.
Another room filled with the chaos.
And where the chaos wasn’t present, everything had collapsed from the roof to the floor.
The doors from the porch to the house. This wasn’t just an ordinary rural home. This one was a mansion. Its history was, is and remains unsolved.
Yet another room filled with boxes and stuff including an old baby carriage.
And another one. The amount of old hockey sticks is also pretty striking.
A long lost rubber boot lies in the ruins of the porch.
Its pair has suffered a much worse fate.
This was as much as there was to explore. Time to go back.
There were other collapsing buildings on the lot as well. That one looks like a former garage, but most likely it has stored horse wagons than cars.
Another look at the windows of this collapsing beauty.
And one final look at the whole building. I’d really like to know, what this place was and what happened here.
And this, kids, is what we often refer to as a hoarder house. There have been instances in my fire department career that I have responded to hoarder houses in which a ladder was needed to enter the residence via the second story. Sadly, this is often due to years of undiagnosed and/or unresolved mental illness.
I’ve seen some too. In fact I think that my first ever location, the place where my nightmares were made, was one, too. There was just so much stuff so out of place even with the owner’s name on them. And by this I mean big bags of used clothes and half-burned cupboards.