bob marley

Abandoned Newfoundland village so secret only a few can actually visit

Nathan Coleman visits the one place the road won't take you, Petites, NL



Some of Canada's remote places having lived out their usefulness are since abandoned. Old fishing villages and mining towns.

Petites was a small place with 11 families near Rose Blanche, Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada. It had a population of 212
in 1946 and 146 in 1956. It was abandoned in 2003.

Coordinates: 47°37′08″N 58°38′02″W

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The Cenacle

Hello LJ and happy 2020!
I'm going to TRY to be more active this year with posting. Anyway, here's a new one.

Long dark halls reached out limbs of cold brick. In the air floated a strange aroma, an uncomfortably sweet mixture of carnations and a damp decomposition. Off of the central corridors were chambers as large as they were empty, and within them ornate mantles framed massive fireplaces. Caked in dust, long extinguished, and from which cold winter air flowed. The chill was biting and stung any exposed skin it caressed. Down more enshadowed halls stood a singular point of light - The chapel. Once magnificent and proud, now forsaken as the rest of the estate had come to be.
Man-made structures contain in them incalculable unseen things. From the very moment they come to exist, buildings slowly absorb the histories of not just the locality in which they stand, but the personal tales of each and every person who had interacted with and within it through the years. Over decades and centuries, the architecture comes to serve a far deeper purpose than that of its initial design, holding time itself within its geometry.
This awareness of generations, of our own very fleeting moment in history, is far easier to perceive when a place has fallen silent. Left without use, we can often use these abandoned structures as points of reflection, seeing a place clearly without the distraction of daily life which once consumed its halls. To see the forest as well as the trees. The Cenacle of Mount Kisco, New York, is a place that will forever exist as a reminder to how time can shape a place, and perhaps more significantly, just how temporary it all is.


This grand convent began its life as a far smaller building, though small is relative in this case – The roots of this winged structure spread outward from the central mansion, which once stood alone on this wooded ridge, its name was Rose Hill.
The original manor was constructed atop a rolling parcel of land in 1904, eventually becoming home to famous showman of the day Billy Rose, who bestowed upon it the name 'Rose Hill'. In 1956 a massive fire ravaged the estate, gutting a majority of the structure and decimating the personal effects of Billy Rose. When interviewed by a local paper after the ordeal Billy plainly stated “I lost a lot of things that can’t be replaced with money.” Of those things he was referring to was a collection of seven original paintings created for him by his close friend Salvador Dali. Some time thereafter the property was sold off to 'The Convent of Our Lady of the Retreat in the Cenacle', who rehabilitated and expanded the initial mansion for use as a convent with a final size of some 70,000 square feel. Much of the additional space was utilized for classroom and dormitory-style living quarters. The most notable portion of the 50s expansion was the creation of a beautiful chapel which came to be a hallmark of the property. However, as we previously mentioned – Everything is temporary.

The convent eventually sold off the property as well, and it changed hands several times throughout the decades. Always though, officially or not, the property retained the moniker of 'The Cenacle'. During a period of vacancy in the late 1970s, David Krebs, manager for the band Aerosmith organized the rental of the entire building, with the hopes of utilizing it as a sanctuary away from the influence of drugs, so that they may compose with clear minds and bodies. This proved futile, however, as Steven Tyler comments upon in his autobiography Does the Noise In My Head Bother You?, "Drugs can be imported, David...we have our resources. Dealers deliver! Hiding us away in a three-hundred room former convent was a prescription for total lunacy." At the end of their endeavors the band created the album Draw the Line, which was received poorly for numerous reasons, with most criticism seeming to stem from the group's rampant drug abuse at the time.
The last organization to call The Cenacle home was 'Our Lady of Mount Kisco', who operated the grounds as a retreat center. After they vacated the building in 2011 the grounds sat more-or-less without use. There were some grand redevelopment plans which would pop up from time to time, stirring up a bit of fanfare before disappearing into the void from which they came. All the while The Cenacle sat, its century of stories, memories, and lessons moldering away in the woods.
Buildings grow wise with age, and they are not selfish with the knowledge. An old building will freely impart what it has learned to whoever may care enough to pay listen. It's a mutual exchange though, where one may glean knowledge, and the building may garner respect. And with this respect may come safety. Safety from neglect, from being forgotten. Unfortunately, any stories or lessons which The Cenacle had to share were lost with it in the spring of 2019, when it was quickly and unceremoniously leveled to make way for a proposed housing development that will one day sprawl across the hilltop.

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Waterbury Brass

Hello LJ, hope all is well. It seems every time I log in the home page here is different in some way, which is good I suppose, as perhaps its an effort on LJ's part to attract more users. Here's the latest location from our (my partner and my) website. I plan to always share our entries here, because LJ really did help us hone our skills, both in writing and in photography/video. The community was (and still is?) a far different place than the toxic mire which most social media has become. Glad it's still kickin' and hopefully a renascence is somewhere in the future. All that said, on to the post — 

Long ago this region was founded upon brass, an industrious calling  which found a great many factories sprouting along the banks of Mad  River, replacing the tall marsh grasses and wildflower as it winds  through the city of Waterbury, Connecticut. The backbone of the city  remains to this day, though it has long been broken, now little more  than weathering brick-red protrusions which stand above the shallow  skyline.

From atop the bluff which the abandoned Holy Land theme park  sits you can truly see the scope of how industrious Waterbury was  during its prime, an era which can be more-or-less pinpointed to have  began when the city was contracted to supply the United States military  with the buttons needed for their uniforms during the War of 1812.  Quickly the city became known as the brass capital of the country, a  title which it held for well over a century, until the eventual collapse  of the city's brass industry, which was all but a memory to most by the  late 1970's.

We visited several sites on this chilly spring day, but focused  primarily on the home of the once-famous Waterbury Button Company from  the 1840's until its eventual purchase and re-branding to Waterbury  Companies Inc. in 1945. The company still exists today, though in a  markedly different form, with its headquarters across town from its  former home on the edge of Mad River.

What greeted us within the hulls of the old factories was not unexpected  - Severely decayed wood hung on loose supports which dangled from  equally decayed brick walls. The steel skeletons and fireproof  stairwells of the buildings were, by and large, the sole elements  keeping these structures from utter collapse. All around were signs of  vagrants, heaps of trash, and graffiti several generations thick. Not  much remains of the industrious purpose which once called these streets  home, or the American-made pride which emanated from it. In its stead we  find literal mounds of trash and disused needles. The symbolism is  obvious, and thus we see no point in dwelling upon it here.

Room after room, corridor after corridor, we experienced the same scene -  Destruction, both man-made and natural, dotted with a few faded  reminders of what once was. A repetitive and sobering pulse of ruin.  However, in one of the larger structure we came upon an unexpected  sight. At the bottom of a stairwell, just barely visible in the murky  shadows, we spotted the shoulders of a torso protruding above the  debris. Luckily this day we were joined by both Lerch and Vacant New Jersey, long-time colleagues of ours, who we have joined in numerous outings  through the years. Together we stepped outside into the daylight to  gather our thoughts, and prepare ourselves for the very real possibility  that we were about to uncover a corpse in the derelict warehouse  building. We decided that the best course of action was to immediately  return and check to see if the person was alive, and if they were, see  if they required aid. Walking back up the dark hallway we hoped against  reality that the body would somehow have vanished during our short  hiatus, but it remained. Long ago the stairs had been removed from this  stairwell, and the landing which the torso now lay in was a drop of  several feet onto a questionable pile of rubble and broken glass. We  approached the edge of the cement flooring and yelled down, preying for a  response. Silence. We yelled again, this time informing them that we  were not police, but if they were indeed hurt, we would have to call it  in. This garnered a reply, mumbled as it were. Slowly the body before us  stood up and dusted themselves off. 

We helped him climb out of the hole, while he explained that he thought  we were security and had hid away as to not be discovered. He then  hugged us, and thanked us for being concerned enough to make sure he was  safe. After a few minutes of small talk he said he was taking our  chance meeting as a sign to move on and stay away from the property for  good. His words seemed genuine, and we hope he did manage to find  himself in a better way since our meeting.

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