I’ve only got a few minutes, but so much I want to type about. Time to remember what it is I want to type for later, after work… Thursday’s photo work… Friday morning’s work… Let’s get started, see how far in we get.
Thursday after work I went back to Crooksville to find the tunnel that I’m sure Tunnel Hill Road was named after. Someone told me that Tunnel Hill Road doesn’t have a tunnel, so I safely assumed that it was a railroad tunnel. I stopped at Batteries Unlimited on Maysville Pike and asked the goofy kid about it, he said he lived in that area. He went into a long explanation of where Tunnel Hill Road is. I know very well where it is. I asked him if he knew where the tunnel itself was. He told me he knew about a trestle that kids used to hang out on. Trestles and tunnels are not the same. Same number of vowels and start with the same letter, but vastly different. I left him with fifty of my dollars and took fifty dollars of his battery stuff.
I drove along Tunnel Hill Road for several minutes before I came to a point where the road intersected with the tracks and determined the best direction to start looking. I parked the truck in a little road off of Tunnel Hill and hoped that it’d be safe. I took both packs of alks that I bought and left the NiMHs (like an idiot, assuming a high drain device like a digital camera wouldn’t eat up two battery loads in one trip). The trestle was in view of where I started. Some good pictures came from the trestle. On the trestle, my original load of batteries went dry. I switched them out for a set of the new alks. About fifteen pictures later, they went dry. I told myself that I wouldn’t take a single picture on the last load of batteries until I found the tunnel, which I didn’t do, I took about six or seven, which I knew was risky, because I could get to the tunnel, my goal, assuming I found it, and have no power for the camera at all.
I found the tunnel. After nearly two miles of walking along train tracks it came into sight. The hill face above the tunnel itself had a scattering of snow that made an angry face above the open mouth of the tunnel. I let out a whoop that probably woke up some McLunies living below the tracks. In all likelihood the tunnel was a quarter mile away from where I stood when I first saw it. I had no idea how big it was until I was there in front of it. Standing in it’s mouth I decided that I couldn’t have come this far without transversing it. That was a sort of bad idea. Here are some reasons why:
- It’s very dark inside and no flashlight
- Anything or anyone could be hiding in the shadows near the wall
- Rotted or missing timbers could cause me to fall and break my ankle
- A train could come, where would I go?
- Obstructions to my path I wouldn’t be able to see
- It’s haunted (no old tunnel that far out can’t be haunted, think about it, Scooby Doo, hello?)
In the middle of the tunnel I started to feel panicked and claustrophobic. I’m not the claustrophobic type, but I was starting to freak out about what or who I might run into in the middle of the tunnel in the dark. I resorted to not panic, but reassure myself by barking and growling and laughing. If someone is in that tunnel, they’re a crazy person, and I wanted to make them think that I’m crazier. Made me feel better. I made it to the end, which just so happened to coincide with the time that it crossed my mind that I had to go back. The return journey wasn’t so bad. Nothing is as hard as the first time. I decided to time it. At a brisk pace it took me four minutes exactly to get from one mouth to the other.
I’ll go back with more batteries sometime. The picks of the litter have been uploaded to the art section.
Today, Stanley came in to work for Patty and he told us he was sick. He darted off to the bathroom. Later he spent some time vomiting into the trashcan at the back door. Ryan called in Tom. I donned my Haz-Mat gear (a pair of dark sunglasses and rubber gloves) and removed the trash bag to the Dumpster. Not a task that I enjoyed. I hate being outside with the snow. It blinds me so bad, photosensitive people hate snow. Walking past the back window sometimes disorients me. That picture trip yesterday? Very difficult. I’m surprised that my pictures turned out considering that I was wearing dark sunglasses the whole time to avoid the pain of the light off of the snow.