Two hours of driving on backroads. Weak yellow sunlight streaking down through bare trees.



The road got progressively worse until I was almost certain the directions Tim Summers gave me were no good. From memory, punctuated with “no, that’s wrong” and “turn ... no, cross the creek, then turn.” I would not have bothered except Tim had photographed a narrow gauge industrial tram back in the hills somewhere. I hoped I was getting close.



Eventually I found the old church that was the primary landmark in Tim’s directions, and beside it the private road. A locked gate blocked the way. I reluctant to get out of my truck. A few old run down company houses, dogs running around loose.

There was no fence adjoining the gate on either side, so I packed up my camera gear, bypassed the gate, and started walking down the road.



It seemed like a very long walk through thick woods and down a hill. At a sharp left turn I could see down into a tight creek valley.



I was looking down at the rusty roofs of a complex of buildings.



This had obviously been a busy place at one time.

In the tight alleys between the abandoned buildings were narrow gauge tracks.



Just beyond the mill site the narrow gauge tracks disappeared into the underbrush. I was unable to follow them very far on that first visit.