Echo Lake Incinerator was a solid waste incinerator built in the late 50's in Ft. Worth Texas. It was only used between 1959 and 1960 when new EPA guidlines forced it to shut down. The 6 acre plot and building was sold to a development company who planned to turn it into a unique diner but never moved forward with their plans. Since 1960 the incinerator has take on a persona of its own with multiple ghost stories and a reputation for playing home to the underworld.
The difference in just a few years is drastic. With the internet making anything and everything so easily available this once quieter spot has been covered with massive amounts of grafiti and shows the signs of people who just don't care. At some point someone came in and welded shut the incinerator doors and cut off many of the steps on the ladders leading up the smokestacks to deter the brave and stupid.
Today Echo Lake is a mural for urban art. Absolutely covered in grafiti but it has its own level of beauty. With secrets around every corner and machinery still in building it still provides a great explore for new to novice explorers.
The southern edge of downtown Fort Worth sports two of the most beautiful buildings in the entire city, both were built in early half of the 20th century by the Texas & Pacific Railroad company. The train station was converted to lofts and shops in 2002 and is a focus for the revitalization of the southern end of downtown.
However, the warehouse next door has yet to see such love, and stands as a monument to the passage of time. With fighting between the city and developers, along with the poor economy and the ever mounting costs of renovating the building it stands abandoned and in an advanced state of decay.
As a city grows, so too does it's need for an ever expanding grid of infrastructure. Power, water, sewage, storm water, and telephone grids must be constantly updated and expanded as the city adds building after building. Oftentimes, old storm drains that are incapable of meeting the drainage needs of an area and flood every time it rains are simply ripped up, and a bigger drain is built and buried again. But what do you do if the storm drain in question was underneath main street of your city's bustling downtown? You can't close down Main Street for several months to replace a storm drain, it would cause utter chaos and traffic jams all over the city. So you let it sit, and every so often make it longer to carry the water farther and farther away. And the longer time goes on, the bigger downtown gets, and the smaller the chance the old storm drain will be replaced before it collapses due to age gets.
However, these drains are few and far between, and often, to get into them you have to pop a manhole in the middle of Main Street traffic. Dallas, Tx, however, has a great exception. Easy to find, easy to get into, and as old as the city itself, hiking into The Rat Race is like walking backwards through history. There are multiple different 'sections' of the drain, all of radically different construction, and each representing a different addition to the system, a different decade, and a different era in history.
“Ain’t dead yet” Studebaker breathed past the dripping nothingness and blast furnaces. Scraps of the wood that used to sheath the cold concrete were heaped in piles where the dozer left them. The place was almost dead, so I said nothing back.
Nestled within the gulf coast, on an island known for its abundant history sits the ruins of what was once a beautiful home. Upon entering I came through an arch that still proudly stood presenting this beautiful Spanish style “Mansion”, though compared to the other mansions on this island the title is a bit pretentious. The house was designed and built by a famous “union-buster” and industrialist in 1928 but he never lived in it. In 1931, the mansion was sold to another man, who lived there with his family until 1950, when his wife and children died and he later died from a heart attack.