“Losing ground is what it takes if you want to fly”

Sometimes you know something is true, but you don’t believe it until it you see it with your own two eyes. And then when you do the shock is still something quite significant, something worth writing home (or in your blog) about.

What I call West Harbor Power Plant was my first major excursion. I had seen the majestic, solid building since my very first trips to MD in the early 90s, but never paid much attention to it for years. When I was finally old enough to hear the call of mysterious empty buildings, exploring it for myself was still a frustrating, unsolved puzzle.

By accident, we found ourselves walking around the property last spring like lost little lambs. If I had known what the following year would bring I would have laughed at myself. We knew nothing, nobody. And by chance we spotted a group of dark-clad individuals headed the same way. They saw us and moved in the opposite direction, trying to throw us off. But we were persistent. Grudgingly they took us under their wing and we went for a… longer walk. They kindly imparted their secret on us and showed us the light (or in this case, the dark).

I still have lingering regrets about not following through that day, but I think everything happens for a reason. Despite the nagging desire to see the inside of this legendary place, I waited patiently. That is my belief: that if something doesn’t present itself to me, it’s not yet the right time. Months passed and the weather turned cold. We came back to the plant with more knowledge and a better mindset (though the matter of our equipment was still laughably embarrassing.) With Dave’s help - and his uncanny luck - we won! I was still a scared little sheep walking into that pitch black, musty cathedral but the experience was one I will never forget.

This building is enormous, a mish-mash of new and old turbine rooms and coal rail lines. I don’t watch horror movies and I think this fact is the only things that prevented me from dying from a heart attack that day. To go from nothing to this place… is indescribable. People have traveled over oceans to visit here and to think that I could have captured the eerie quiet and undisturbed industrial rot that encompassed it in photos the very first time was a joke. At that time it was still relatively untouched, which was something I did not learn to appreciate until much later. In the next several months scrappers and thieves would leave their mark and their vandalism would disgust me so much as to turn off any desire to return.

I will never forget the silence of the cold concrete shell, punctuated by the wind and rain on the metal roof and making me hyper-aware of shadows and noises. I didn’t know if I had any good cause to worry, so I did. After all anyone or anything could be waiting in the shadows, hiding in the screeching of the loose corrugated ceiling panels. Walking the valleys between the coal vats and gears and wheels bigger than I was tall was a veritable horror movie in itself. I didn’t dig that. The rusted-through catwalks sent my nerves screaming. Why did we only bring ONE flashlight???

Subsequent visits were much less stress-inducing but less memorable. As I said, I grew disgusted with the amount of trash and vandalism I was seeing. Still, I made 3 more visits and began to take the power plant for granted. I fondly referred to it as “My Hollaback Plant,” because it was always considered a fallback option on a nice day.

.... but then the work crews started. A full year after construction was slated to begin, it actually began. I couldn’t believe it and neither could the entire local community. I won’t say that I cried, but I was emotional inside. I know that there are people out there who still feel that they can crack this place on weekends or holidays, and I think they are foolish to do so. But what they do is their own prerogative; out of respect I will still not share the building’s true name. Worst of all, the construction plans that originally called for “Renovation” have been changed to “Demolition.” I think that all of us - despite our moral differences - are waiting in the sidelines with bated breath.

Goodbye, West Harbor. You toughened me and I’m sorry I took you for granted. I will not make the same mistake twice.