I’ve finally visited Hoosac Tunnel and I’m itching to go back. Standing before the tunnel, imagining what it was like when the work for the tunnel first began… Imagining the conversation that needed to be had when the initial plan failed… Imagining how many people were just trying to do their job but ended up never making it home at the end of the day… Are they still here? In the tunnel?

There are so many stories within and around the Hoosac Tunnel, waiting to be told. It doesn’t seem fair to present them in a singular way when there are numerous tools to help. To simply layout the land with words alone wouldn’t do it justice. The tunnel calls for layers– photographs, story maps, video, audio, and timelines to accompany the words.

We’re lucky to have rich material to work with. With the help of the North Adams Public Library and the North Adams Historical Society, we have extensive information on the tunnel at our fingertips. The library not only has extensive information on Hoosac Tunnel but they also have physical artifacts tucked away somewhere in The Vault. With our differing busy schedules and limited, and sometimes inconvenient, hours at the library it’s a bonus that most of this material has been cataloged online for easy access.

 

Though are dates are not entirely solidified we have made a schedule of our upcoming goals-to-meet as we start organizing our material and starting up our blog:

• • February 22nd– Compile list of names of those who have died in the tunnel
  • February 22nd- 25th– Pulling relevant material
  • Sometime during the week of February 26th–  Visit the library to see the artifacts
  • March 3rd- Visit to Historical Society between the hours of 10am-4pm
  • March 4th– Visit East Portal; nature writing on site, documentation of the area

 

We plan on sharing the experience of maintaining the blog and writing pieces to post as well as researching and visiting the site together. But we have also designated other responsibilities between the two of us as this project progresses:

Erica: Filming and editing videos.

*Driver / navigator extraordinaire.

Cassie: TimeLineJS, StoryMap.

*Positive affirmation guide / spotter of beavers.

 

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I’ve always described North Adams as “falling apart” and I’ve heard others doing the same. But what if there was another way of seeing it? What if it was just nature reclaiming abandoned man-made structures that we’ve given up on? What if nature was having a comeback in the Berkshires? Maybe we can start to live with nature instead of destroying nature. Maybe instead of moving on to destroy more land to replace something that has fallen apart… we can try to fix it first…

…like the beavers.

This is our first time visiting Hoosac Tunnel. We thought we knew where we were going but we were definitely not in the right location when we first set off. Second time trying to find the dirt path, completely covered by snow, was much more successful. We parked the car in a plowed spot and started our adventure. To our right: a small building. We made a note to visit it on the way back to the car. Our main focus was to just get to the tunnel.

Stumbling along up towards the tracks, We were excited to see them stretch out to our left and our right. We go right, wondering if this was the direction we needed to head towards to get to the Hoosac Tunnel. The crisp snow crunched under boots. I run forward arms out on both side, the contents of my backpack jumping around as I stumbled forward trying, and failing, to keep my balance. I’m sure I looked like a little kid running home from the bus stop as I tripped through the snow, nearly falling several times. We didn’t actually cross the tracks but we did note a small stream on the other side and not long after we noticed another possible stream on our side of the tracks (after almost stepping directly into it).

Walking up to the tunnel, the West Portal to be exact, was not as “creepy” as I had expected. Looking back on the moment I feel like that may have been because of the snow that covered everything in the area. It’s hard to understand just how large the tunnel is until you’re standing at the entrance. It becomes even clearer when you see someone else standing at the entrance (especially someone as tall as Erica). The tunnel was decorated in graffiti and a common tag found locally: “you’re going to be ok” was just on the outside of the tunnel. The inside of the tunnel looked unwelcoming. The snow itself didn’t dare to venture inside the endless darkness. The entire area seemed abandoned and silent.

Unexpectedly, we found that the closer we got to the tunnel, the warmer it got. I have had friends describe the tunnel to me beforehand and everyone always describes the tunnel as freezing, especially in the winter. The air seemed to stand still beside the tunnel. Maybe it was the history of deaths in the “Bloody Pit” (as the tunnel is sometimes referred to) that added to the eerie feeling while standing just outside. But the longer I stood there, the more I was able to dismiss that uneasy feeling and enjoy exploring the outside of the tunnel, making excited remarks about the most unexciting things: the track wasn’t directly in the middle of the tunnel but closer to the side, closer to the small stream. Why?

We decided to backtrack before stopping by the building near the car. There was a brick building falling apart just above the tracks. Was this where they originally tried to bore into the mountain? There was a hole filled with dirt. It looked like there were tracks on the ground, but maybe not. The corner of the roof was missing (More excited remarks about unexciting things: “Wow! The corner is missing!”) I have no idea what this place was actually used for. Maybe it was built over the original site and then was used for other purposes later on? I’m really unsure of what to think about it as of right now.

Between the two unknown buildings: beavers. I have never felt so excited about beavers before in my life. We didn’t actually see a beaver, but after identifying a tree that was clearly gnawed on, we ran back and realized we had walked right past a dam without noticing it was even there. I don’t know what it was about that particular experience that made it so exciting when we didn’t even see a beaver. I had seen a beaver walking down my street once before and didn’t think anything of it. But here I was, jumping like I was having the time of my life (I was), pointing at the dam repeatedly.

We took a look into this smaller structure, and the first thing we see: “you’re going to be ok” again. This area feels secluded from the rest of town, but the tag reminds us of where we are, that even though we aren’t surrounded by people, people have been here and people will be here (just as we were). Despite the graffiti in the three locations in this area, there were no piles of litter that we could see, and the area did not look like it had been utterly destroyed by people visiting. I hope the snow melts by the time we visit the tunnel again so we can take a closer look at the area.

 

 

I hope the beavers are having a good winter.