Red Hook Cranes

I believe that Red Hook is a wonderful place to explore, in any aspect of the word. It has not only a great number of abandoned structures but artistic pieces and interesting sights throughout. 

I have always wanted to climb a crane, and abandoned cranes are ever-present in this neighborhood.  I had eyed them for a while, waiting for the right time to tackle my ascent (and calculating which cranes I would climb). Our only issue was that in all the pictures we had seen of the cranes at night, they were bathed in ambient blue floodlights, which would silhouette us.

 We finally decided on a freezing windy January weeknight where the deserted streets saw almost no action. Tonight there were no lights and the cranes were simply distant shadows. My friend gave me a single climbing glove to compensate for my frigid inflexible digits.

Getting up our first crane had been an intense stretch, considering that my winter layers were very heavy, but I somehow managed to pull myself up. From the darkness we heard a work truck in the distance and spotted a boat parked in the water. It felt good to be on top.

Then we tackled the second crane. which was a little less straightforward than our first. We had to climb up a series of beams and balance ourselves fifteen feet above the ground, walking around until we reached the stairs. Since the cranes were long abandoned, the iron we stepped on almost gave way under our weight.

There were many cranes to choose from but we stuck to the ones in the shadows.

Some more monkeying around got us into the crane room, with incredibly stale, dusty air.

A weeknight makes for some empty streets and the cranes a calm perch from which to watch the slowly rippling waters.

Underneath A Highway

Sometimes, when you think you've seen it all, something weird will present itself and surprise you. I remember walking along the shore near this highway, and the sun was angled in a manner that allowed me to peer inside the highway's interior. Since I saw graffiti, I knew that it was accessible at one point.

Then, driving by one day, I discovered that the padlocked door had been blasted open, making this spot, which appears to have been untouched since the late 90s, available to explore.

Bringing a flashlight would have made this site much nicer. Instead, I had to jump over puddles of indecipherable depth to prevent my shoes from being sucked into the mud. As I went further down the cavernous space, the walls got lower and lower until I was practically squatting.

The Gowanus Batcave

Oh, Gowanus Batcave, squatter's dream, sour taste of rusted metal lingering on my tongue!

Cleared of your messy remnants which have been littered, strewn across the ground, the workers have not yet peeled off your layers of dirt, grime, graffiti and history.

Looming in the distance, massive, visible from the bridge, inviting, beckoning, tempting.

     My first explore of the New Year, once my bronchitis finally cleared up, was the Gowanus Batcave. My partner and I stared at it from across the canal when we noticed a group of teenagers on the other side of the bridge, eyes fixed on the same prize. I rushed to them and slid a cautious leg over the silver spikes of the fence, telling them, "same idea." With a relieved laugh, they followed, and we wrapped ourselves around another fence lined with razor wire.

We spent a good while circling the building searching for an entry before finally giving in and constructing our own. Though we didn't know each other, we both had the same goal in mind. This is what led to our most sketchy entry point ever. We began stacking heavy concrete blocks (it took two people to lift one of those gray blocks), and using these blocks as a boost, climbed up a utility cable hanging out of the side of the second floor window.

After this, we found a rope and tied it around the windowsill (which was surprisingly sturdy for a building that had been abandoned for so long), knotted it, and climbed up and in.

The Batcave is also known by a less alluring (and more official) name: The Rapid Transit Central Power House. This property used to power trains. By its current state, being completely cleared out and under renovation, I couldn't discern its original purpose. Back in the day, its boilers burned coal to provide power to trains, however, when this technology became outdated the plant became abandoned.

During a period of time in the early 2000s, a slew of squatters claimed their residence in this space, and hypodermic needles had piled up until the squatters were kicked out in 2006. Previous intrusions by others revealed random scraps of litter which would inform visitors that this was a person's hideout; now it is being emptied, replaced with cinderblocks, steel pillars and electrical wires.

     Once people knew this site was open, hipsters and residents alike flocked to it instantly, and word spread overwhelmingly quickly. I must have seen at least five other people come along during our visit, but I have great doubts that our original entry method is still present. After enjoying a purple-grapefruit drenched sunset from the rooftop, my partner and I parted ways.

Burnt Down House In Caesar's Bay

Not an interesting place by any means, but a good spot for anyone looking to start exploring, I suppose.

There are very few shells like this in the city. It is almost reminiscent of NYC during the 70s and 80s, or modern day Detroit.

This is quite easy to find; I merely stumbled upon it one day. If you're in the are you'll probably see it.

You can still smell the smoke from months past here.

The only similar shell I have stumbled upon was out in the Rockaways.

Anyway, there are many more locations I have visited recently much more interesting than this, so I will be posting more frequently and make room for some pretty cool stuff.

Coney Island Playland Arcade

     It is a sad but necessary fact of life that structures deteriorate. It is often best to see an abandoned building in its prime: walls of pristine paint before vandals can get to them, metal fans, hypodermic needles and ancient books before looters can get to them. Unfortunately, in the case of the Playland Arcade in Coney Island, I had arrived much too late.
     Many interesting items could once be found within the Arcade, such as disco balls or carnival prizes, left alone by the explorers who silently photographed, and went on their peaceful way. I arrived in Coney Island a few days after the hurricane, and the Arcade was nearly utterly demolished, a shell of its former self. Apparently the wind and the waves tore the boarding down, so anyone could come in.
     Coney Island is based on a principle of pleasure, stimulation, Hedonism. The makers wanted those who came to lose themselves in the sounds of the pounding music, the flashing lights, the smell of hot dogs wafting through the air. In contrast, I got sparse sunlight climbing down a collapsed rooftop, the scent of a ruined abandonment, and the lonely sounds of the wind pushing the waves onto the shore.
     The only remnants that hinted of the Golden Age of Coney Island were the festive and funny decorations on the wall, once so vibrant, left to pathetically fade into the walls.
     It is a sad but necessary fact of life that people deteriorate. Perhaps this is what I find interesting in the Playland Arcade. It reflects our inevitable fate, the one that you and I must endure.

                                This next series of shots assesses the hurricane damage.

                                 In a city that never sleeps, the busy station had to be shut down.