This past weekend was the Moonshine Festival down in New Straitsville, OH, a one road town who's rich history in coal mining and bootlegging presents endless stories. I had been meaning to visit there for a while, and now was the perfect opportunity. I set out with my brother to the crisp Saturday afternoon sun.
The festival was rife with adults and children alike, as I sampled some local moonshine and had a chat with the owner and creator of one of the concoctions. As I made my departure north towards Rendville, I was struck in awe by another town, looking as if I had just stepped into the old west.
After basking in the architectural marvels of the town, it was time to move on to my destination, the one and only Rendville. What I found there was more than I could ever hoped for.
Getting to the exact spot was a bit difficult, as my brother's and my phones had no service and I couldn't load up the maps. Amateur mistake of course. Using luck and blind judgement, I took a turn off the main road onto a rather steep and narrow road, the kind of road where two cars could not pass at the same time without someone ending up in a ditch. As we rounded the corner, my brother looks out the window and spots a solitary brick mass amongst the wooded growth.
Among the ivy and overgrowth we approached the east end, which towered above us. Water and time had taken it's toll, as most of the iron floor was rotten out and rusted all the way up. My brother, who was more daring than I, took a walk on the remnant of the boiler room wall.