Showing posts with label BMW. Show all posts
Showing posts with label BMW. Show all posts

Monday, October 1, 2018

Rural Decay en route to Hot Springs, North Carolina

Map from ESRI ArcGIS online. Red dashed line shows the route from Asheville to Hot Springs, North Carolina.
Every year, The Vintage rally for older BMW automobiles is held in Hot Springs, North Carolina. Most participants stay in the Asheville area, so the day of the show sees hundreds of classic BMWs streaming north on I-26 and US25/US70 towards the small hamlet of Hot Springs. Once the group leaves the interstate at Weaverville, US25/US70 winds in and out of the hills, past small towns and farms, and past some occasional bits of rural decay.
This is a streamlined/moderne-style filling station, possibly once a Mobil station, but a gas station archaeologist needs to weigh in and provide an identification. 
Marshall has a number of old garages and filling stations. The main town is out of sight west of US25 and 70.
I also saw old barns or sheds in the Marshall area, slowly being engulfed by trees and vines. I usually think of Mississippi being the place where the jungle takes over, but here in wet western North Carolina, the same happens.
Further north, somewhere in Madison County, I saw a similar vine-engulfed barn during my 2017 trip.
Barn, US25, Madison County, NC.
The second photograph is a former gas station built into a house, or a house built on top of a gas station. You can see the island where the pumps were once located.
Rick's Gro, 10994 US25 (digital photograph from Fujifilm X-E1 camera).
USA Raft at 13490 US70 occupies an unusual stone-clad filling station. You can see where one of the service bays on the left was filled in. Again, I cannot identify the original fuel brand.
The Laurel River Store is a friendly place to stop for an espresso. The lady who runs it is very nice. A number of the BMW drivers stopped to tank up (with coffee, that is, but the coffee might have had enough octane for the carbureted engines).
The remains of a log trailer court cabin were to the right of the Laurel River Store. Some units beyond this building were in better shape. The vines are taking over.
Just before you reach Hot Springs, US70 crosses the French Broad River. There had been almost monsoonal rain in May of 2018, and the river was in flood, with brown water roiling angrily downstream.
Finally, Hot Springs, and the grounds of the Hot Springs Spa. The 2017 show was sunny and warm; 2018 started out dry, but by 2:30, the rain came thundering down. Regardless, a good time was had by all, and it was a good chance to check if your car leaked (mine certainly does).

The 2017 black and white photographs are from Tri-X film and a Hasselblad 501CM camera. The 2018 square frames are from long-expired Fuji NPH400 film, exposed in a Rolleiflex 3.5E camera with 75mm f/3.5 Xenotar lens.

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The TB Sanatorium on Parnitha, Greece - Revisited in 2016 with Tri-X Film

Mount Parnitha is a mountain northwest of the urban sprawl of Athens. In 1912, a tuberculosis sanatorium was built up on the slopes to treat TB patients. In that era, rest in a quiet environment with fresh air was the only means to help victims of the disease. Many Athenian notables spent time there. In sunny weather, it was a nice setting. But in winter, it must have been gloomy for the patients, and Parnitha was known for its winter snows. Thanks to public health initiatives and the availability of modern antibiotics, tuberculosis was largely eradicated from most of Greece after World War II, and the Parnitha hospital closed in the 1950s or early 1960s. Sanatoriums around the world closed, and many of these gloomy old buildings have become popular topics for urban decay photography or paranormal exploration.
Around 1965, the Greek National Tourist Organization bought the hospital and renovated it as part of the now-defunct Xenia hotel chain. Grotesque! Sometime later, it became a training facility for the Xenia organization and closed about 1980. The building you see in the first photograph is clearly not from the 1920s. I have been unable to find information if the original hospital was demolished or added onto.

I previously visited the sanatorium in 2015. But on my latest Greek trip, my nephew expressed an interest in visiting the site, and I had film, so off we went on a sunny afternoon. It was busy up there. A film crew was making a music video, complete with lights, reflectors, a drone, ladies with insufficient garments, and a rented BMW 1600 (see the first picture). Other visitors came and went all afternoon.
This may have been a sitting room or dining hall. The wood flooring is barely visible through the dust.
The hallways are as gloomy as ever. This was a 1-sec. exposure, with camera braced on a concrete block.
This time, we ventured down into the dark cellar level (I did not in 2015 because I was alone). My sturdy nephew was with me to maintain security, and we brought headlamps. But there were no issues, and several tourist groups wandered by, glad that we had headlamps. The photograph above may be one of the old kitchens.
This is a lavatory. The rooms to the right were toilet stalls. Again, a 1-sec. exposure.
There was not too much more to see in the cellars. Most of the wiring and plumbing has been looted. We never saw any kitchen equipment. The honeycomb concrete panels seem reasonably intact, but the degree of cracking plaster, concrete-spalling, cracks, and brick debris make me think the hospital is structurally unsound.
Note the exposed rebars in the wall and the debris scree slope. (This is a digital photograph.)
The air shafts have piled debris that has crumbled off the adjacent walls. The old hospital is unsecured. What will likely happen is someone will have an accident or be killed, and then the municipality will reluctantly secure the site and pay for demolition. And of course, it will be no one's fault for having neglected the hazards for decades.

The square photographs were from a Rolleiflex 3.5E camera with Schneider Xenotar lens on Kodak Tri-X film. Most exposures were 1-sec. long, where I placed the camera on walls or window sills. The Rolleiflex is convenient for this type of work because you can place the body on a support, look down into the viewfinder from any angle, set the self-timer, and move out of the way. I processed the film in HC-110 developer and scanned the negatives at 2820 dpi with a Minolta Scan Multi medium format film scanner. I manipulated the exposure curve to bring up details in the shadows.
As an example of the resolution of the 1960s Xenotar lens, here is a full-size crop of part of the first photograph. You can see the film grain and easily read the license plate.

I am glad to have recorded the hospital with film. Will we be able to open our digital files in 50 years? Will the typical household preserve their digital files for half a century? If you think yes, you are dreaming.

Update 2019:  My nephew told me that the doors and entry ways to the old hospital have been concreted and blocked.