Fargo Travel Blog› entry 89 of 90 › view all entries
Home time has come to a sudden end and now I find myself back in Fargo, just in time for crispy winter chills. JOY!
The trip from Baton Rouge to Fargo was strangely more onerous and drawn-out than normal. It should have taken two days, but instead, due poor weather, it took four.
I’m meeting Dad in Fargo because we have two big trips from there heading to a new windfarm on top of a mountain in West Virginia. It’s our fist time delivering a tower in the East. These trips are presenting a whole new set of rules. Eastern half of the country isn’t as wide open as the West, therefore it’s a bit more tricky and time consuming with moving anything of substantial size.
There are a few houses along I-29. I have seen a couple of them before, but have yet to explore them closer. They are all written in my handy Black Book, waiting for another time.
One house, however, was located in Galchutt, just south of Fargo. Close enough to visit near the end of a delayed and arduous day..
Galchutt. Its a small town just off the Interstate and with no services available for those traveling through the area. All that exists are a few sporadic houses and a lone church. You would pass by the town without realizing that you even came up to it.
From the Interstate highway I noticed, for the first time, this old two-story house snuggled comfortably within a thicket of tangled trees.
Sun sets around 5:20ish these days. I arrived just before 4PM. The house is located at the end of a barely used farm road. Most of it is covered in snow. There was a small farmhouse located across from the road. Parking would put me right in the household’s view. I figured that it would be best to check in with the family before making my way to the old house, perhaps they will have some interesting information. The elderly lady inside didn’t know much, or anything. She didn’t know who owned the house, how long it has been there or if it was even okay that I tramp across the property to take some photos.
Though she didn’t say anything, I did conclude that no one would really care if I did my thing.
Parking Simone as close to the house as I could, I made off toward the house. It looks like it has been empty for a very long time, possibly even since the 60’s. I’m not sure what it was that I saw inside, but there was what looked like an old heater in the style that echoed the 40’s or 50’s, hence my conclusion that the last residents left in the 60’s.
The day was beautiful and the air was extremely chilly. After about 20 minutes I could barely feel my fingers and after 20 more I could hardly bend them to take photos.
This time there was no basement to dangerously fall into, only a shallow floor space beneath the boards. The real danger would have been the house itself collapsing above me. Looking inside through the window I could see how the building was concaving inward at the house center. It was literally falling apart at the seams like a poorly stitched jacket, but the outside looked to eerily peaceful.
I didn’t go inside. The cold temperature was beginning to get to me, even with the extra layers. Sun was getting closer to setting and the house interior was oddly lit by the strong setting sunlight. I prefer indirect light.
I’ll be back!