Those who have known me for a while will already know of my penchant for abandoned buildings, but recently I find my interest in them has spiked after a particular experience I had whilst visiting West Virginia, in the USA. I have always had a fascination for the abandoned, be it houses, castles, cars or even, on the odd rare and wonderful occasion, an amusement park.
Intact abandoned amusement parks are often hard to come by, as due to the space they take up they are frequently torn down, but there are still some in existence. In my opinion, amusement parks are the most interesting of abandoned structures, not just because their size leaves more to be explored but for another reason too. It might just be my morbid curiosity or my love of the spine-chilling, but an amusement park (as is suggested in the name) is supposed to be a happy place, full of smiling people and laughing children, etcetera, and so seeing one so barren and disused gives a very surreal feeling, one guaranteed to give you an unparalleled thrill; but I digress.
My experience, as I mentioned before, took place during a visit to West Virginia. My parents planned a holiday to the United States a while back, but we visited the area just last month, in November. As we drove down a road in the middle of no-where, heading to whatever my parents had planned for the day, my bored gaze out of the window caught sight of something extraordinary.
Above the thick green smear of trees filling the land to the west of the road, an enormous structure poked out its rusted head. To any-one else this might seem to be less than interesting, just another mystery lost as the road continued on, but something inside me sparked at the sight. I begged my parents to stop the car so we could get out and look closer. It was strange, they normally would have said no to such an erratic and unexpected request, but I guess something in my voice told them how desperate I was to know what lay hidden amongst the tall vegetation. They pulled over, and I bounded out of the car. Leading my confused parents to where I felt the structure was rooted, we finally came to a clearing. There it stood.
An immense, rusted ferris wheel.
It was beautiful. Untouched for decades, the once vibrant colours that decorated the wooden carriages were dulled and peeling, the rusted heart of the beast stood rigid at the centre of its rearing frame, every aspect of the sinister formation calling out to be explored. Vines and ivy had crept up the side, building on the feeling that this once joyful place had long since been forgotten.
‘Lake Appalachia,’ came the voice of my mother from behind. I turned to see she had found an old sign amongst the nettles and bracken. With a sleeved hand, she swept aside the climbing plants that covered the rest of the sign.
‘Lake Appalachia Amusement Park.’
My father remained silent. The three of us stood in awe of the twisted iron creature towering over us. My curiosity ran away with itself again; what had happened here? Why was Lake Appalachia abandoned? What terrible event preceded its closure? The gathering feeling of forgotten disaster was overwhelming as we stood helplessly in the shadow of the behemoth.
There was a sudden hush. Everything around us became muted, even the ceaseless twittering of the birds that hid and lived in the brush died and faded with the rest of the world into nothingness. The hypnotic grasp of the mysterious structure held us to the spot, and a sort of spell was momentarily cast over us.
In the clearing, a soft but icy cold breeze picked up, out of place in the otherwise warm and pleasant day. The sky seemed to have darkened, a stark and disorientating contrast to the endless blue that mere moments ago we were standing under. The whole area seemed isolated, cut off from the rest of the world; a moment in a lost time, a vignette of a forgotten relic.
After a few more long moments of silence, my father coughed.
‘We should get going.’ He said quietly. My parents both turned and began to pick their way back through the undergrowth, and I followed. Wordlessly, we moved back through the vegetation, until we came to the roadside once more. Re-entering the perfect, cloudless, clear blue day was so strange, so unreal- like what we had just seen was only a dream. The phantasmal image of the ghost wheel lingered in my mind. The urge to turn back and simply confirm its existence was overwhelming- had I just imagined it?
I couldn’t stop myself.
Before I knew what I was doing I turned sharply and hurriedly began tramping back to the clearing. For a few panicked moments I didn’t recognise my surroundings- there were only trees and shrubs around me- and I began to truly question if I was awake. Suddenly it came into view, nestled like an antique on the velvet pillow of royal viridian that was the forest. The skeleton of the monster was still rearing, rigid and silent, and stood unmoved, as it must’ve for decades, without even a creak from the rusted joints and hinges, nor a slight turn of the wheel or sway of a carriage despite the breeze. It appeared as though the slain beast had been choked slowly, painstakingly so, by the growth of the creeping plants which had, over the years, inched their way up the foot and into the heart of the ride.
I felt myself smirk. How curious it was that something as simple as an old fairground ride could evoke such a powerful feeling of insignificance and futility in a person, yet at the same time a thirst to know more and see more and explore more. There’s something special to be found in abandoned theme parks in particular though- I’m not sure what it is.
Maybe it’s the bizarre juxtaposition between what such a place should be and what its abandonment has caused it to become. To see such a place that you know should be filled with happiness and laughter and bright colours and flashing lights be so still and silent, so faded and solemn, evokes such a surreal feeling; like the whole world has been emptied and you are utterly alone.
That’s what I love about abandoned things, though. I think that a lot of people would enjoy the thrill of standing in the shadow of a forgotten wonder, if only they gave it a chance. It is a feeling that simply cannot be replicated by any other means, and although, to be honest, leaving places makes me a little sad, you can’t avoid feeling the adrenaline rush as you turn to walk away.
I would recommend looking into abandonment to anyone, and who knows? Maybe next time you’re driving through the middle of no-where, something will catch your eye- something you might otherwise overlook, or, before you read this article, something you would have just let yourself forget about.
And- who knows? Maybe you’ll get out of the car and find something incredible.