After exploring for a few years, a sense of calm and ease began to take over. We had made the rounds, we knew where we were. So we could take a deep breath and relax. This week, I’m reflecting on the beautiful peacefulness of the universe we immersed ourselves in. Time almost stood still around us as we sauntered down dark hallways of brick and stone, lit only by our maglight, or by tea-candles. As was the case on one very special occasion.

This week, I’m also reflecting on decay. Multiple times we witnessed the death of beautiful, magnificent places. And so we moved on, thanking the space for the opportunity and time that we had. Everything decays, and changes, and transforms; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Enjoy 7 new images from the great photographer David Rin. We have a lot in store for the coming months, the completion of a few projects, more blog posts, and a big announcement coming this April/May. Stay tuned.

-Gahein

Not that cold was going to keep us in.

After sliding downstairs to enjoy our traditional continental breakfast of muffins, cereal and what may have been an entire pot of coffee, we began pulling our resilient Minnesotan toes into many layers of socks and planning for the next challenge. Spirits were high, cameras were charged and ready and the location was set: Nopeming Sanatorium.

Of course, in true Municipal Heroes fashion, we ended up playing our approach by ear, with little regard to the initial plan. The turn was missed, we spent a bit of time driving in circles, dodging snowplows and abusing Google Maps’ good name. Soon enough, though, after retracing most of our tracks, we were finally looking up at Nopeming itself. Or ‘No Pain,’ as it was now so affectionately named.

From the warm safety of the running vehicle, we surveyed the scene. This was one building that, if we hadn’t already known of its vacancy, would be easy to mistake as active. Of course, we knew better. No Pain was ours.

This kind of flippant, confident banter continued until the three of us were safely down the hill, parked and hiking bare-faces into the icy wind. Ninja explorer talk quickly gave way to grumbles and general upset as the frigid air bit at our noses and ears. Our eyes watered.

We must have looked awfully conspicuous, dressed like cheerful Eskimos and hiking steadily up the road and into the woods, sans that great amount if cheer. A non-issue, of course, as it returned in force at the sight of our quarry. Nopeming spread out before us, a welcome sight, and we decided to begin with the smaller outer buildings before setting down to enjoy the main course. We traipsed happily off into the knee deep snow, leaving a clear path we’d come to quickly regret.

Our first conquest was a small garage and shop, and after a traditional noisy window entrance and a few bad jokes at our own expense, we were free to look around what had clearly been an old locker room. Once-relevant papers spilled from ancient boxes and littered the floor at the feet of an off-kilter couch and a de-commissioned water heater.

The shop and garage beyond that seemed almost empty in comparison, though the shelves and workbench were still coated in what might technically be junk. Regardless, it did wonders for the atmosphere of the place – Millions of little hints at a different decade’s viewpoint.

Our next course was a step beyond. After a quick entrance, the elegance of this building was undeniable; three main boilers took up the majority of the main room, towering above us and basking in the frosty, January light. Clearly, this had once been the Sanatorium’s Steam Plant, though its fate now was to sit and look pretty to the likes of us, and act as an eyesore to others. This and to provide a charismatic new home to old medical equipment and lonely chairs, to boot. So, with plenty of ground to cover and delicious peeling paint and rusting equipment to admire, the group split up.

Often, in these kinds of adventures, the only thing really keeping time is the warmth remaining in your fingers and toes. I wasn’t too sure how long it had been since I’d moved upstairs and away from Rin and Gahein, but I was vaguely aware of how long my burning fingertips had been out of my gloves, fumbling with my camera. I’d found the two chutes responsible for moving coal down to the boilers, and was working on taking as many photographs as possible without losing any fingers to frostbite.

Having lost my tripod in Cranefields the night before, I was shooting off an old oil drum when I heard my name hissed from below. Gahein’s urgent face and beckoning hand were the only messages I really needed. Silently, we regrouped, Rin whispering furiously about how neither of us had heard the large truck just outside the plant. The truck having backed out the way it came, we quickly discussed our options. Realizing now just how telling our knee-deep snow tracks must be, we all decided it was time to get off the property and to come back another time. We packed up the cameras and snuck quietly away from our hidey-hole.

As anyone who has ever tried to be very, very quiet in snow can probably tell you – dream on. The staircase groaned and ice and rust crunched underfoot, even as we attempted to be as graceful and move as slowly as possible. Slipping out again with as much subtlety as three dark bodies on a blinding white day could manage, we retraced our footprints through the tundra and back down the hill.

With quick glances backwards at the silent sanatorium behind us, we promised return and demanded success. We’d be back, but for now? Burger King, and the thought of a warm, heated car.

_ _ _

[2.18.10] A No Pain Note: Shortly after this was posted, the Municipal Heroes received an email from the current landlords and tenants of the sanatorium. Not only is the place now watched, it’s someone’s home and should be respected as such. Hopefully this means it’ll be spared the crash and smash spraypaint death of all the worthwhile abandonments in the cities -  we can hope.  If you’re interested in the history of Nopeming, try a local historical society or, a bizarre concept, a phone call.

–Averna

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Over the past 4 years, MH has gone through numerous transformations as we’ve learned our strengths and our weaknesses as photographers, writers and artists. Our story is one of growth and learning. Every adventure is special because it offers us new challenges with our art, how to capture a feeling, an idea, a mood, in a photograph, or more.

For these last few months of 2011, we’re going to take a final look back at what we’ve accomplished, and share the story of how we came to be with you. Until the end of September, we will be re-releasing the best of the old photos from our arsenal. Then, on October 1st, the revised story of The Glorious Cranefields, will be released. Rin and Thalia are away for a while, however Gahein will be releasing videos, and Averna has new photos to share as the year progresses. Whether greatness or our demise lies in the shadows, we do not know. We are just humble explorers, sometimes seeking excitement where others might not, looking danger in the eyes while taking two steps into the darkness, on the adventure of our lifetimes. Will you join us?