Last night, in a spontaneous flight of fancy, my lovely companion and I trekked out to the old power station at Coogee. This is a place I’d been wanting to go for years. We stopped off at a service station on the way to buy a torch, and then made our way down to CY O’Connor Beach.
It was a moonless night, and our walk across the dunes to take us nearer the gigantic ruin filled our souls with a sense of foreboding dread. Repurposed plastic bottles littered the area, reminding us to be wary of unsavoury, drug-addled vagabonds. Before we knew it, we were as close as we could legally be, and as Miss C shone the torch upwards, through the shattered windows into the decrepit void beyond, I snapped this photo.
Enveloped in the night, the abandoned hulk of the power station loomed over us out of the darkness, silent and terrifying.
As we stood contemplating the passage of time and the futility of this memorial to a bygone era of energy production, the urban legends that abound of deaths and murders on the site weighed heavy on my mind. What was that object flapping in the chill wind? A ghostly sleeve? Or an old strip of paper? Neither of us wished to stay too long to find out. Perhaps because of the sudden change in the weather of late, but I believe more likely because the place was well and truly haunted, the air was frigid and the breeze was brisk. We ambled back over sedge and sand back to the safety of my car, resolving to return another day in better shoes and with a posse.
Inspired by The Daily Post’s Weekly Photo Challenge, “Enveloped“.