On Saturday, Theresa and I went to see Quarantine. It actually wan’t bad, compared with the usual horror film fare of late. A few jumps here and there, and it was nice to just hang out with the girls and watch a movie and share a bottle of wine afterwards.
Our fall break was Monday and Tuesday, so while I should have been catching up on grading and sleep, M and I instead decided to catch up on some of the things we’ve been meaning to do. So, on Saturday we met my mother and my stepfather for some dinner in Bloomsburg, PA. My stepfather’s brother (my step-uncle??) owns a little Thai restaurant in Bloomsburg, and it was delish. Then, we headed about 20 miles south to visit Centralia, PA. I’ve been there before, but this time, I was armed with a camera.
I’m really quite fascinated with the story of Centralia, which is deep in the heart of the anthracite coal region of central Pennsylvania. In 1962, someone burned some trash in one of the old abandoned strip mines, which connected to a coal vein that ran all the way to the surface. The trash fire lit the exposed vein, and *poof*, an underground mine fire. They thought that they had initially been able to extinguish the fire when it was discovered in the strip mine a few days later, but that wasn’t the case. The coal began to burn underground. For the next 20 years or so, workers battled the blaze unsuccessfully, trying to either extinguish it, or at least contain it. Government officials really failed the town of Centralia, as they delayed taking any decisive action to save the village of Centralia. By the 1980s, the fire had affected nearly 200 acres and the government declared the area unsafe for homeowners as carbon monoxide levels reached life-threatening levels. A 1983 engineering study found that the fire could burn for another full 100 years or more, and “could conceivably spread over an area of approximately 3700 acres.”
Nearly 5 decades and 50 million dollars later, this underground fire still burns through the old coal mines and coal veins under the town and its surrounding landscape. You can smell the toxic gases as the fire vents itself through the ground, and the ground is warm from the fires smoldering underneath the back yards, basements, and streets of Centralia. Most of the homes were concemned and residents relocated with federal grant monies, but I have spoken with a couple of folks who refuse to be bought out, and a couple even still live in their houses in the old ghost town. I spoke with one man who said that it’s where he met his wife, where he raised his children, where his wife died, where his wife and family are buried, and it’s where he’ll die and be buried as well. Centralia is, for all intents and purposes, a ghost town. It’s just so sad and somewhat eery to see the vents, to feel the hot ground, to see the desolate landscape, knowing that there’s a HUGE fire burning underneath you, and that it was once a very nice little town.
But I digress. Photos of our visit.
Some photos of the cemetary that still stands in Centralia. The wife of the old man with whom I spoke is buried in this cemetary.
Another place that we visited was the old highway that ran through the town of Centralia. It has since been re-routed, for obvious reasons. The heat and venting caused the asphalt to buckle, making it no longer safe. It’s clearly a hangout for kids. The entrance to this old road is quite hidden from the main road that goes around Centralia.
The abandoned road.
Some of the devestation that this fire has done to the old road.
You can feel the heat coming from the ground, and the air smells like coal burning. It’s such a surreal landscape, very “hell hath broken open here on earth.” I think there’s a documentary film to be made about this place, one day, I think.
I think you should make that film.
It’s such a crazy, bizarre, awful, dramatic story. The photos are incredible, and somewhat insane.