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Pyestock Diaries

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Urban explorers are a pragmatic bunch. It is a defining characteristic. To drive for hours to visit a cold, wet derelict site; to have to navigate natural and artificial barriers; to have to deal with the possibility of complete failure; and to have to believe that civil trespass is a price worth paying for a payload of photographs, requires certain characteristics and state of character. The 'we can do it' and 'we will do it' registers high on psyche evaluations.

The first time you visit will be the best time you visit things only get worse before a final desperate slide into ruination and erasure; or redevelopment into something else. There's little room for any attachment, such as becoming fixated on a location or being emotionally involved. Because every time you visit, you come ever more depressed at the gradual, enviable decline.

There's little room for nostalgia. You are only as good as your last explore. Once a site had been obliterated or redeveloped beyond recognition then it is forgotten. The new targets swing into sight; the old are archived away. There is always the thrill of new discoveries; but there's not the cosy fire-side luxury of reminiscing.

So, it is pragmatic. Get in the car, hit the sites, get the photos. Old haunt demolished? Oh well, shrug shoulders, find the next big thing which has just appeared on the horizon, and hit that.

Northern perimeter fence looking east along the public footpath.
31|07|17 © Simon Cornwell 2017