The Story Behind the Photos: All Alone with B.S. and 202


It was an average Friday in mid-February, chilly and grey. My adventure buddy and all around amazing stuff spotter, Autumn, and I were out on the back roads of Idaho looking for something spectacular; anything spectacularly rusty, or broken or decaying to be specific.

Our first random encounter with the abandoned was an old cattle pen with decaying chute. It sat disheveled and forgotten along side bright shiny new trucks parked near a new workshop.

The fence sagged under the weight of its years in the harsh Idaho desert.


Collapsing wooden fence

The weathered wood split where rusty nails once held the fence together. Orange and yellow lichen now made their homes on the beams


The small barn stood empty, doorway yawing in the boredom of being forgotten.


All the bits and bobs that once held important jobs lay unused and rusting.




We followed the fence around to a grave yard of machines and parts. It was a place where all good rusty things hope to go when they are no longer needed.





Satisfied with our documentation we moved on in search of our true desire: an old abandoned car.

Driving down the road at a decent clip, I hit the breaks when Autumn said, "Cars!" Thank goodness the road was empty as I made a u-turn and headed back to the unmarked dirt road.

At the end of the drive sat a little white farm house, two Dish Network satellites pointed to the sky. An old sway back horse looked at us with curiosity.


I went to the door in hopes of finding a human to ask if we could poke around their rusty cars and collapsing out buildings. An echoing bang was all that answered my knock. I peered in the window; the house was empty.


We quickly checked for No Trespassing signs, we saw none. But, to be on the safe side, we decided to follow the road behind the house in case we could find a human. We wanted to let some one know what we were up to, we have little desire to get shot. Idaho is gun country.

The road led about a mile back, past some old corn fields. The last field was the winter hang out for a herd of black cows. They excitedly greeted us, they thought we were bringing them something better than old corn stalks to eat. Sadly, we had nothing for them. We took the cows agreeable nature to mean that we could poke around.

Coming back down the road, we spied a gloriously rusty conveyor of some sort.



Back at the old house we walked through the yard and to the out buildings that surrounded it. We found that the property was uninhabited.


Yup, Idaho has guns. Realtor sign with bullet holes.

There were two buildings that caught my attention. The first was windowless and white, with a thick crumbling wall.



Why does this building have such thick stone walls??

But there was a window.... on the other side....