The Cabin at Chimney Rock

Almost 2 years ago, my partner and I decided to move to North Carolina. It was funny to think even back then that out of all the travels and moves I had done on my own, I had never lived or visited the South. I honestly didn’t know what to expect. When we did our first visit to scope out houses to rent, I felt so at peace.

The air smelled of lilac, it was warm, and my pains and aches from Chronic Lyme Disease seemed to melt away. There were cherry blossom trees, just shedding peddles just like a scene from any anime I’ve ever seen.

There was something missing for me though, I missed the smell of the sea. We choose about 2 ½ hours inland. Besides my time in Wyoming, I have never lived more then a walk, run, less than 30-minute drive from the coast. I was born in a city called Oceanside. Even now as I type this, I take deep sighs, fantasizing about the salty air and sandy wind.

But North Carolina offered something I had extremely limited experience with, MOUNTAINS. Being in the North I found hiking difficult with the pains of the Lyme.

My partner and I decided to take a trip to Asheville to hike and spend some time together. During our time there, we visited all sorts of small shops, and hiked off the beaten trails.
At one point of Chimney Rock, came across a rotting, sloped old cabin.

The door (the photo displayed for this content), was still holding on strong, while the rest of the wood had been rotted away or eaten. The sounds it made as it was forcefully swung open was enough to make the hairs on your neck stand up. The door didn’t need to be opened to enter what remained of the cabin. Large sections of the cabin were unobtainable because the roof had caved in. The ground was covered in bark, sticks, and moss. It smelled damp, but not moldy.

Even though the entire building wasn’t worth much to look at, I had to spend time in there. I felt a strong connection to capturing just the right angle of the door. There’s something about abandoned buildings and how they be an eye sore.

There’s an art to it. There’s a sadness to it. There’s a beauty to it. There’s a lesson to it.

Nature will always reclaim what’s hers.

This picture is available at www.lbimages.net/store/abandoned