The four of us stood on a berm looking down at the grounds. A truck was slowly crawling among the cranes and support beams of the unfinished ride. We patiently watched the bright headlights move across the park until they disappeared. Between us and the fence was a large parking lot which was crossed hastily, our eyes constantly darting back toward where the truck had gone. “Look, this one has rungs going up it.” The steps, welded onto the steel tracks, lead up the coaster to an inspection platform about 3/4 of the way to the top.
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M.A.M.U. was a meet up of explorers mostly from the mid-atlantic region. It was held in Richmond, Virginia during the weekend of January second.
I woke up friday morning to the sound of somebody bumping into my car and then saying “who the fuck would leave their car here?” I unzipped my sleeping bag and undid the ratchet strap holding my trunk lid down. I lifted it open, sat up and said, in a very annoyed tone, “I’m trying sleep here!” Needless to say the guy was a might surprised, along with two others who were bringing frozen foodstuffs into the back door of the pizza place I had parked behind. Drowzy and cold, I pulled on my wool socks and shoes and moved the car over near the mall, the initial meeting place of MAMU.
After a bunch of introductions we opted to move out and tackle the nearby abandoned gas works. A pair of fellow indiana folk decided to follow me to the location. Their decision proved poor as I didn’t have the slightest clue as to where I was going. I lost them after about five minutes. The gas works was a cool explore, made funnier by one dude’s naked posing in what I think used to be the machine shop. The sun went down and It was then time for the real fun stuff.
Most of us, on the roof of a 4 star hotel.
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Rounding out 2008 with a fucking bang is just my style. So it worked out nicely that the night of December 30th saw the ascension of this huge hulk of machinery, noise, and steam that I have dubbed The Beast. Three coal fed furnaces heat steam to heat most of the city of Indianapolis. With its spiral staircase laced chimneys and near downtown location, this plant was a must do.
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I took in a deep breath through my nose as I crunched along on the railroad ballast rocks, making my way between the strings of grain cars leading to the massive plant. It smelled like all the different varieties of rotten food you find in you fridge all mixed together and then stuffed inside a roadkill possum who met his demise weeks before. The horrible smell lost its impact within the first few minutes, however, and after a while the deafening roar of the machinery is no longer noticeable as I’m scampering around the catwalks high above the plant workers.
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