abandoned

8 articles tagged as abandoned

Tonight I’m staying in Muscatine, Iowa, a smallish town on the banks of the Mississippi. It’s much more farmy here and much less marshy, but still quite pretty. I was feeling a little tired of woods, so I ventured into town with Monty and Niko in tow. Muscatine was once famous for its Pearl Button Factory, which made tiny pearlescent buttons from the shells of freshwater mussels. The building is now a restaurant, but it’s surrounded by an historic district that is full of beautiful architecture. Surprisingly, unlike many small towns I’ve traveled through recently, the town seems to be on the up and up, almost metropolitan at points. (Almost.) I suspect some of this has to …

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It rained a cold, heavy rain today. It is supposed to rain for many more days and there are few places to camp this far north. I trekked another 40 minutes north in Sacajewea to see if I could find a couple neat places to visit before heading south for the hills. By the time I had found the mine my feet and shoulders were soaked. These are excuses for why I did not travel further, as I hear the north shore of the UP of the UP is gorgeous. That being said, I’m sure it is less gorgeous when it’s pouring rain. In any case, if you’re visiting the UP, definitely try to get up as …

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Down a long and beautiful country road on the Garden peninsula of the U.P. is the tiny ghost town of Fayette. It was once a huge iron ore refinery with docks, blast furnaces, a limestone quarry, stores and even an opera house. It was home to almost 500 people in the late 1800’s, and was run by the Jackson Iron Company. Soon after the company closed its doors, the town followed suit, and has been abandoned since the early 1900’s. The State Park is in charge of keeping things tidy in the old ghost town, and in my opinion it’s altogether too tidy. The grass is nicely trimmed, the buildings have new roofs and new siding…for some …

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Just behind my parents’ property, down a small path well worn down by many feet, there is a Hudson stuck in the mud. It has probably been stuck there for over 70 years, and seen many a harsh Beaver Island winter. The windows are gone, and so are the seats. The once red hubcaps are now grey, the once blue paint a mossy beige. I like to think that things haven’t changed that much, and that someone tried to drive their lumbering car down a footpath under influence of the drink, and then simply left it because it was too damaged to drive out again. If you turn away from the Hudson and look into the woods, …

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Today my mother and I quested to the south end of the island. We were looking for a road that led to a spring and an orchard, a small red line on the bottom of our map. We consulted our island guide, Ken, but he’d never been. He’s been to the outer islands, where nobody lives, and has a great knowledge of them, but not this little track in the woods. So naturally, I was interested. It was a long and windy drive down “East Side,” which is one of the less interesting names for the roads on the island. The King’s Highway bisects the eastern half, and is the only paved street. (The King was not …

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  Today my mother and I were convinced by our island guides Betty and Ken, that we visit a little-known spot, deep in the woods on the west side of the island, where you can pick fresh wild cranberries in the fall. A wild cranberry bog! We loaded up in our Beaver Island limo, and set off. The hike was lovely, the weather perfectly sunny and warm. Monty and Niko had their trail vests on as we hiked over a few hills. Now, let me explain something about the island, and probably upper Michigan in general. There ARE public lands for hunting and hiking, etc. There are also private lands for these things. But the further north …

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