Tuesday, December 30, 2025

Hoosac Tunnel Compressor Building Ruins | Restoration Obscura








The Bloody Pit Project
Ruin Mapping, Hoosac Tunnel

I recently returned to the Hoosac Tunnel to continue mapping peripheral ruins, moving outward from the main bore into the industrial landscape that once sustained excavation. Among the most intact of these remains are the ruins of the Compressor Building, set low along the Deerfield River, pressed into the bank and partially reclaimed by forest.

In the earliest years of construction, progress through the Hoosac depended on hand drilling. One man held the steel while another struck it, blow after blow, advancing inches at a time into hard rock. It was slow, dangerous work, and injuries were routine. The introduction of pneumatic drilling in the mid-1860s altered the scale of the project entirely. Muscle gave way to machinery. Speed increased. So did the demand for power.

The Compressor Building was constructed to supply that power. Positioned beside the river, it housed large compressors that fed pressurized air into the tunnel. Water from the Deerfield was diverted through a hand-dug sluiceway extending roughly half a mile upstream, an ambitious system intended to drive turbines below the building. The river proved unreliable. Seasonal flow fluctuated, output dropped, and steam power was later added, layered onto the site rather than replacing it outright.

Today, the structure survives as a partial shell. Stone walls slump inward. Machinery openings frame leaf litter and river light. The turbine pits remain the most legible features. Rectangular recesses cut into the ground mark where blades once spun, their shafts rising vertically to the compressors above. These voids still read clearly. Water below. Air above. Rock ahead.

What remains here explains how the tunnel advanced at all. Without compressed air, drilling stalled. Without the river, the compressors fell silent. The pits, foundations, and shaft recesses mark the point where water was turned into force, and force into excavation. This was not a peripheral structure. It was a choke point.

This area became known as the Bloody Pit for good reason. Accidents were frequent. Equipment failed. Men were crushed, struck, drowned, or injured beyond recovery. The name reflects labor realities rather than legend, a blunt acknowledgment of the human cost embedded in the ground itself.

The photographs from this visit focus on those remaining traces, turbine pit recesses, wall courses, foundation lines, and the way the site continues to interact with water, gravity, and decay. This is preservation by record. Once the machinery is gone, the ruins become the archive.

Additional documentation, including field analysis of both portals of the Hoosac Tunnel, the alignment towers, and other associated ruins, can be found through Restoration Obscura. That work emphasizes historical context and on-site observation without publishing precise locations or maps. The rail lines that pass through the tunnel and over the adjacent trestle remain active, and rail infrastructure is unforgiving. Trains move quickly, quietly, and without room for error. These are working corridors, not abandoned spaces, and discretion is a matter of safety as much as preservation.

Learn more at www.restorationobscura.com.

© 2026 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, Nor'easter Films, and Restoration Obscura
www.bulmerphotography.com | www.johnbulmermedia.com
All Rights Reserved 














Sunday, December 21, 2025

Canal Boneyard Field Series | Restoration Obscura













Canal Boneyard Field Series | Restoration Obscura 

Exploring ruins is always compelling, regardless of scale or setting. As part of my ongoing fieldwork with Restoration Obscura, one of the core goals is to document and identify lost and erased structures embedded within modern landscapes and built environments, treating them as an archive rather than as anomalies.

Some of the most compelling sites I encounter are tied to water. Rivers, canals, reservoirs, and floodplains conceal and preserve material history differently than land does. As water levels drop in winter and ice begins to bind along the shoreline, structural forms that remain invisible most of the year can briefly surface.

In this case, the ruin is not vertical. It lies low in the water, revealed seasonally when river levels fall and winter locks the surface into ice, in a quiet reach where industrial traffic once moved steadily through the interior waterways of the region. What appears first are outlines, long rectangular hull forms pressed just beneath the river’s surface. Then details come into focus. Parallel longitudinal timbers. Upright iron fasteners. Frames spaced with the regularity of working boat construction rather than shoreline infrastructure.

At a distance, the exposed framing reads like rib cages laid side by side, the structural skeletons of working boats gradually opening as water, ice, and time strip them down to their load-bearing elements.
As shoreline growth recedes and water levels drop, forming ice lightens the surface and the dark timbers stand out in contrast, briefly revealing the hull geometry. What remains reads as exposed hull structure: bottom planking long gone, deck timbers collapsed or missing, framing members still holding their spacing as the vessels settle flat into the riverbed.

These remains are wooden canal barges, often referred to as scows, built in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries for use on New York’s canal system. Their flat bottoms and rectangular hulls were engineered for shallow, controlled waterways, where boats moved slowly under tow, carrying bulk cargo such as stone, timber, grain, and coal. Construction was heavy and utilitarian. Thick longitudinal timbers formed the hull. Cross members supported decking that has long since disappeared. Iron drift pins and spikes held the structure together, many of them still standing where the surrounding wood has failed.

When rail transport and the modernized barge canal system rendered these vessels obsolete, they were not preserved or dismantled. They were simply no longer useful. Many were towed into shallow slackwater and abandoned, where they settled into the riverbed. Seasonal ice fixed them in place, while floods and decay gradually rearranged what remained.

What survives now is a boneyard. Not a single wreck, but a cluster of working boats left behind when the system that relied on them moved on.

© 2026 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, Nor'easter Films, and Restoration Obscura
www.bulmerphotography.com | www.johnbulmermedia.com
All Rights Reserved 

The Stone Chambers of Putnam County | Restoration Obscura





The Stone Chambers of Putnam County | Restoration Obscura 
Field Photo Series 

Across Putnam County, stone chambers appear in the woods, built into hillsides and ridgelines. There are 
no surviving records that identify who constructed them or why. They do not appear on early maps and are rarely mentioned in local histories.

The chambers share common features: stacked stone walls, heavy capstones, narrow entrances, and repeated placement along specific slopes and elevations. In several locations, the orientation of chamber openings corresponds with the position of the sun during seasonal transitions, a pattern documented elsewhere in the region.

This Restoration Obscura Midweek Feature documents these structures as they exist on the landscape and examines how they overlap with other long-standing legends of the Lower Hudson Valley.

Read the full feature on Restoration Obscura, or listen in the Substack app here.

© 2026 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, Nor'easter Films, and Restoration Obscura
www.bulmerphotography.com | www.johnbulmermedia.com
All Rights Reserved 


Monday, December 1, 2025

Hoosac Tunnel Compressor Ruins | Restoration Obscura


Hoosac Tunnel, East Portal Compressor Ruins
Restoration Obscura Hoosac Tunnel Ruins Mapping Project

Winter settles over the last surviving arch of the East Portal compressor works, a remnant of the three-story building that once housed the turbines and machinery that fed compressed air into the Hoosac Tunnel. The stone was cut from the same schist the crews pulled from the eastern heading, and it once supported a floor that shook with water power drawn from the Deerfield River. Compressed air and the new Burleigh drills changed the pace of construction in the late 1860s and marked the moment when the project finally began to advance through the mountain.

Today the arch stands quiet in the falling snow. The turbine pit is buried, the sluiceway is hidden in the hillside, and the upper floors have slipped back into the forest. Induction artifacts and scattered infrastructure fragments remain throughout the landscape, small traces of the power systems that once drove work inside the mountain. These ruins are part of the Restoration Obscura Hoosac Tunnel Ruins Mapping Project, an effort to chart the full industrial footprint of the tunnel and the long reach of its past. The Bloody Pit is far more than the eastern and western portals and the central shaft. It is an entire corridor of work sites, alignment towers, and industrial ruins stretching along the Deerfield and up the flanks of the Hoosac Range.

You can find more information about the Hoosac Tunnel on Restoration Obscura or by listening to Episode Three of the Restoration Obscura Field Guide Podcast.

© 2025 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, Nor'easter Films, and Restoration Obscura
www.bulmerphotography.com | www.johnbulmermedia.com
All Rights Reserved