FORGE SHOP
by Furywork

We rode into Harvey around 2pm. After driving around, marveling at the surprisingly consistent urban decay, abandoned houses, convenient stores, random shops on every other block, we spotted our main target: what was reputedly an abandoned chemical lab. Actually, we had seen it before driving in, but it seemed so impressive in the distance we thought we must’ve been looking at something else, something still in use. Only after cruising the area, our search slightly frustrated by unrealized directions from a resident explorer, did we recognize that colossal, greenish structure for what it was: our mission.

Approaching the "lab" we noticed that the side gate was wide open, and, strangely, had fresh tire tracks running through it. We followed the tracks and noticed about half a dozen SUVs parked inside the compound, as well as what looked like an 18-wheeler with a busted windshield. This spooked us a bit; the SUVs were in decent condition and we spotted more tracks (it had only snowed a couple days ago). We drove around quietly, deciding we would feign ignorance and ask for directions if confronted. With time, we relaxed. The place was deathly quiet, all the buildings looked as if they were in at least some state of disrepair, and not even portions of the place suggested they were currently occupied. We put the cars out of mind but decided to park elsewhere and proceed on foot.

It was Sunday and early enough that the churches, oddly plentiful, were still full. Three things strike one's eye about Harvey, churches, poverty/decay, and dogs. Lots of dogs. We saw the first two aspects immediately, organ music played from numerous shabby looking buildings and in certain places the populace congregated outside. Harvey's dog infestation, however, took its time in showing itself.

We drove around the perimeter fence several times (rundown barbwire chain link), stopping when we felt we could no longer look quite so suspicious. The churchgoers seemed to be looking at us. We pulled over and thought about our game plan. I busted out the map and a marker. We had spotted a number of potential entrances. There was the side gate off a busy street, most likely used by those mysterious SUVs, but we had ruled that out immediately. Then there was a sizable hole on the near-north side of the fence. That faced a side street with some local businesses so that too was ruled out. Further north we had driven on an alley along the compounds long side, and while there were residential houses and backyards on the side opposite the "lab," there was enough weed-ridden space to provide ample cover. We didn't know for sure but we assumed the old security fence could be easily compromised.

We packed up. We were both dressed for arctic weather, I admittedly a bit over dressed. I had removed some articles of clothing and still had on about 6 layers. We had brought respirators but removed them from the pack as the compound was composed almost entirely of gigantic, roomless structures, in some places missing walls and ceilings. The place seemed very open and aired out, fumes or asbestos didn’t seem too likely. Each had his own lights and I carried extra batteries. I had an optical scope which has served us well on at least one previous mission, where we spotted people at a distance and could not, with the naked eye, discern friend from foe. We carried a total of three cameras, a digital, an ancient Russian manual SRL, and a cheap disposable. We moved out.
The weeds did indeed provide cover, as well as painful scratches and a fair amount of general annoyance. Moving towards the fence we realized that we were following animal tracks. At least four sets of pawprints marked the entrance to this seemingly remote, isolated area. We paid little heed and headed straight. The corner of the fence, where it met perpendicular to another piece of fencing, proved to be an easy climb and we were in.

Our first encounter with the compound without the protection and remoteness of dnb's vehicle set the tone for much of this adventure: amusing and treacherous. One of the reasons the fence climb was a breeze was the pile of sharp and deadly rubble stacked, at its peak, maybe 30 feet high, 50 feet deep, and 100 feet wide. And everywhere, dnb noted, dog tracks. The heap was its own landscape, and for a while the buildings only peaked out from behind the snow topped mountains of trash. It extended in every direction from the fence, creeping beyond the lab territory into a nearby storage area. We were only interested in one direction, however, and slowly we advanced towards the structures.

The going was not good. I pioneered falling and sliding uncontrollably as our main method of descent. "Just go with it dnb, don't fight it." It was amusing, as I said, but terribly perilous. The snow covered everything, including gaps, creating the illusion of consistency. We had no idea if the next step would land on a solid surface, a slippery piece of ice-covered metal, or on nothing at all. There was no traction, the thorny weeds persisted beyond the fence, and we fought and slid our way across.

Arrival. We were in, really in. Beyond the junkyard mountains and into the heart of the "lab." A new landscape opened up. To our left was the promising gaping mouth of a gigantic warehouse, its colored, partially cracked windows shining in dazzling yellows and greens. All the corners and edges sparkled with dripping water, and a ghostly industrial fan spun in the wind.

In front and all around us was a building's skeleton: wooden beams charred jet black and riveted with oversized nails and bolts. This part of the compound seemed completely inside out. In places, cabinets and metal furniture still stood, but there were no walls and no sign of the roof. Beside the skeleton, all that remained was a wild tangle of orange pipes. And everywhere snow, and, as dnb pointed out, on the snow dog prints. Countless tracks, layered and crossing over each other. This was starting to look bizarre.

We stumbled about, separating, each a bit overwhelmed. We took some photos and then met up again, deciding to cover this entire area before entering the warehouse which had been tempting us from the very start. Amidst the wreckage stood a lone identifiable building remnant - walls, inside what looked like 3 or 4 small rooms. A collection of bricks in a pattern still vaguely functional and orderly. We entered and found two rather comical scenes. In one room, the plumbing exposed and squirting water on a wall, where it was in an odd state of simultaneous freezing and melting. In another, a pathetic little urinal.

Through a gap in the wall I saw two dogs trot by, coming from where we entered. One white and cruel looking, the other brownish with a long coat. Both looked like mutts.

"Dogs." I said.

Suddenly, we were in battle mode. Dnb froze and I picked out a pipe, a slight smile on my face. He grabbed a sizable stick. We were a bit thrown off; the situation seemed half comical and half critical. My mind was calculating which direction they could come at, possible escape routes, strategic approaches.
We weren't moving and I was wondering if that was good. I felt a bit trapped and somewhat apprehensive. We listened but heard nothing. I realized that, if they were aggressive, we could not just wait this out.

"They know we're here," I said, pointing out that they probably picked up our scent back by the fence. We knew the situation, this was their territory. Dnb shared some amusing stories his dad used to tell him about troublesome dogs in the countryside. The punch line always involved a stick and scampering animals and thus we both felt better. This may have been their turf, but we had sticks! From then on we took turns photographing, one would shoot, vulnerable, while the other held the sticks and stood guard. We would grow quite attached to our improvised melee weapons; I dropped mine only upon exiting, by the fence, and dnb practically carried his into the car until I pointed it out.
With our sticks we exited slowly and quietly, not seeing or hearing anything threatening. Dnb said he was mostly worried about having to kill anything. Neither of us wanted to, or felt like we would still have to, but both of us were ready and we never fully got out of "battle mode" until Harvey disappeared in dnb's rearview mirror.

We poked around the wreckage for a bit longer, appreciating the fantastic textures and colors of rust and corrosion, then headed into the first warehouse. The place seemed even larger inside, it was mind-blowing, a giant playground and treasure chest. In the small gaps of its south wall, snow would occasionally blow and from tiny holes in the roof flakes descended sporadically, in threes or twos. We snapped some photos and collected a couple safety signs (there are plenty more there for you future explorers). We found stacks of hoses and a piece of an automobile frame. I bagged a dirty old face shield. Dnb pointed at a closed plastic bag marked DANGER, ASBESTOS. Towards the middle of the room was what appeared to be a tractor, some half-destroyed specialized vehicle on aging treads. To the right was an old Volkswagon. An old, half-ruined car, license plate still attached. It was a neat site and I wanted to get in but thought better of it upon noticing the inch-thick layer of grime.

Dnb popped the trunk,

"Good news, no body..."

"Nobody in the trunk."

We speculated about what it was doing there and then moved on to the tractor. I inspected one of its treads which had broken in two and was falling off, while dnb operated excised controls and levers laying seperately on the ground. We got some more great shots. The place was surprisingly well-lit, dnb noted that the windows seemed to magnify the sun rather than screen it.

Newspapers and food containers covered areas of the building and we wondered if someone had been living in here. One paper was dated October of this year. Other areas had patches of snow, and where there was snow there were always dog prints.

We took some final shots of the warehouse and headed out the opposite end. Beyond this building was the open area where we had first spotted the SUVs and then a much smaller building. The parked cars made for a slightly nervous crossing, as did the fresh animal prints below our feet.

We started moving into the second building, which had a considerably darker feel to it. It was enclosed and largely intact, nothing like the open well-lit place we just exited. The floor and walls were tile and it looked like a giant bathroom. Several feet inside and it smelled as such. At first I stopped and turned back. We retreated to the entrance to think this over. We were both hearing footsteps and I had smelled what could easily have been human waste. A couple minutes of standing at the entrance and we decided the sound was most likely the combined noise of many drops of water. From exploring tunnels and drains we were quite familiar with how deceiving and psychologically complex dripping sounds can get. Given a grim atmosphere and potential danger one starts to hear voices or eerie singing or sirens or just about anything he or she imagines.
I decided to try again. The smell disappeared or I grew accustomed to it. On our left was a shower room, covered in junk and clothes. Again I started to wonder if someone was living here. Dnb thought it improbable. We advanced. Ahead, an office full of drawers and documents, and on the wall a metal board with words printed on magnets. A treasure chest of relics. We stuffed pockets with magnets bearing "WHEEL," "UPSET OPERATOR," "LOAD SKID," etc. Dnb found a book with brief job instructions for all the different workers this place once employed. Nowhere was there mention of chemicals and judging by the type of equipment we had so far seen, we were suspecting this "chemical lab" was actually used for some sort of metal work.

We pulled out a vacation flyer which had a fantastic hand-drawing of a man and woman reclining in a boat. Roughly, it said, "Only tell us when you want to go." We intended to keep it as another souvenir, and I carried it outside the office to fold. I was only getting started when, suddenly, a snort from behind us. I dashed back inside to grab my pipe, and dnb followed, slamming the door shut with alarming speed and persistence. Again I got very concerned about being cornered, trapped in a confined space. I said this to dnb and we decided to do what we did after the last encounter, fare out and see what happens.
Beyond the first noise there was no sign of the dog, and we continued into the facility. Ahead a large room full of green, snow-peppered shower lockers. Again this place looked inside out, though in a way opposite from the skeleton we first encountered. As I said, this place was almost entirely intact and yet parts of it had 3-5 inches of snow. It was a bizarre sight and I got a little carried away with the shutter.

We usually check all lockers we encounter but there were much too many to bother. Between the lockers we spotted a dirt covered combination hardhat-faceshield-earmuffs which I eagerly took in place of the first wimpy faceshield. Also, at the far end we found an old typewriter.

On our way out we stopped at the shower room again and inspected the junk which covered the ground consistently, in some areas in several layers. Dnb found a woman's shoe, towards the middle I found an ice-skate. Children’s toys and boxes of old clothing were piled against the walls. I again pictured someone squatting here, setting up a base and surrounding herself with things others throw out or give away.

We left the shower facility and cautiously preceded across the open SUV populated area to another warehouse, this one just as big though more cluttered and slightly darker than the first. We had heard what sounded like an electric hum coming from the boarded up building adjacent to the showers, and thus proceeded quickly, concerned it was still in use.

We entered a third building, a smallish shell containing little of interest save for some cheery holiday graffiti: "merry Xmass," it said, spraypainted on dull bricks in front of condemned industrial mayhem. I took a picture and we were about to enter the fourth building when the roar of a dozen wild dogs descended on us. We didn't see them but we didn't need to, we were running with crazy half-smiles when I slowed down, deciding against a frantic, probably hopeless retreat. I did not feel like being chased, figuring we'd have a better chance at making peace or scaring away rather than outrunning canines. We walked calmly, scrambled up the terrible scrap heap, and crossed back over the fence.
On the way back to the car we saw a dog safely locked up in someone's yard. I still had some shots left on my cameras and I wanted to develop the pictures that very night. We drove around a bit while I used up the film. For the last few shots we parked to the east and got out of the car to get a view of the compound’s street side. We passed two large dogs in a yard, one of which menacingly jumped on the roof of a shack. It was level with the top of the yard fence and stared at us blankly. Before I could get my shots dnb spotted two more stray dogs idling behind us, and we decided to cross the street. Two more dogs in an open yard barked at us as we looped around to where we had parked. Driving slowly out of the side street, another stray walked at us. Dnb slowed down further still not wanting to hit it. We tried to watch it in the mirrors but it disappeared in the blind spot and did not appear again.

" It's hanging out behind the car."

We started moving slowly and it appeared in the rearview, staring blankly. As we pulled back on the street we had just been forced off on foot, the two barking dogs ran across and towards the direction of the lab. The last thing we saw before leaving city limits was a stray dog on a corner of 159th street.

We drove back mostly without speaking, listening to Tuvan throatsinging.

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