Hoosac Tunnel Alignment Tower Ruins | Restoration Obscura

Hoosac Tunnel Ruins Mapping Project
Alignment Tower Site Ruins Above the East Portal

Above the East Portal of the Hoosac Tunnel, surface evidence of the alignment system used during excavation remains fixed in place along the projected line of the bore. What survives is not a single structure, but fragments of a larger measuring network once stretched across the mountain.
On Spruce Hill, the remaining material consists of the lowest course of a stone alignment tower. The masonry rises only slightly above grade and is partially embedded in soil, leaf litter, and seasonal debris. No superstructure survives. The stones mark the base of a tower erected to hold optical instruments used to maintain a straight line of excavation over the mountain. Later disturbance to the area, including power line installation associated with the Central Shaft vent building, likely accounts for the removal of the upper portion.

On Rowe’s Neck, just east of the East Portal, the alignment point takes a different form. Four heavy iron spikes remain driven directly into exposed bedrock, defining the footprint of a survey platform at that location. No masonry is present. The absence of stone debris suggests a structure built primarily of timber, mechanically anchored rather than constructed as a permanent stone tower. Only the iron elements remain, preserved by material rather than intention.

From this position, the alignment extends across the Deerfield River valley toward the East Portal and bridge. Dense vegetation now interrupts direct sightlines, but the spatial relationship between sites becomes readable during reduced foliage. Looking upslope from the portal area, a faint linear scar on the mountainside traces the former Western Union pole line that once carried communications and power supporting tunnel construction.

These features document how alignment was maintained over many years of excavation. Fixed reference points were established on the surface, repeatedly measured, and used to transfer a straight line underground through bedrock. Once their role was complete, the towers were dismantled or allowed to decay, leaving only stone bases, iron anchors, and scars in the landscape.

In total, six alignment towers were constructed across Hoosac Mountain to accomplish this task. Working together, they formed a continuous surface geometry that allowed crews digging from the east portal, west portal, and central shaft to meet with extraordinary accuracy for the mid-nineteenth century.

This documentation forms part of the ongoing Hoosac Tunnel Ruins Mapping Project, focused on identifying and recording the surface infrastructure that made underground excavation possible. You can find all my content on the Bloody Pit, including long-form features and podcasts, on Restoration Obscura.

© 2026 John Bulmer Photography, John Bulmer Media, Nor'easter Films, and Restoration Obscura
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The Ruins of Mount Ida | 02.25.2024

 The Ruins of Mount Ida // Troy, New York 

These remnants are all that remain of the once-thriving houses at the base of Mount Ida in Troy, New York. Amidst the ruins, one discovers numerous footings, stairways embellished with handmade railings, foundations, and small compartments. Strewn about are bricks harking back to the early 1900s, clam shells, shattered apothecary bottles, and remnants of handmade fencing. 

Perched atop Mount Ida, Prospect Park in Troy, New York, graces some of the city's most picturesque terrain. Rising 285 feet above sea level, Mount Ida offers sweeping vistas extending up to 20 miles.
Spanning 80 acres, Prospect Park nestles between Congress and Hill Street, crowning the summit of Mount Ida. The park's original design dates back to 1903 and is credited to Garnet Douglass Baltimore, a local landscape engineer and the first African-American graduate of Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute.

© 2024 John Bulmer Photography + Nor'easter Films
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The Ruins of Grafton | The Windmill

The Ruins of Grafton: The Windmill
By John Bulmer, John Bulmer Photography

Today, I added a seventh site to my ongoing ruins mapping project within Grafton Lakes State Park. Snow persists in the shadows, offering sufficient contrast to discern manmade shapes in the forest. It may be my last exploration until spring, depending on the snowpack.

Today's discovery reveals much that has faded with time, leaving behind a substantial cornerstone of what must have been a grand house constructed with Bleau bricks manufactured in Troy, New York, during the early 1900s. Within its foundation, an intact Clorox bottle from the 1940s adds a tangible link to the past. Notably, this site is at a higher elevation than the preceding six, and nearby lies the remnants of a windmill, its blades partially submerged in the forest floor. Its vane is nowhere to be found. Standing under a canopy of 40 to 50-foot trees, it's difficult to imagine a landscape open enough to support wind power.

To date, my mapping project has documented sites from seven abandoned homesteads, each contributing a unique chapter to the narrative. Seven fieldstone fireplaces dot the landscape, some defying association with known home sites. The scenery unfolds with extensive stone walls, numerous footings, and traces of household items, remnants of the past that once transformed these now-forgotten homesites into someone's home or summer camp.

My project has led me through parts of the park I have never seen, revealing trees of remarkable size undisturbed by human presence. True old growth remains in the more obscure parts of the park. But even in the secluded corners, the artifacts of a forgotten community linger, a poignant reminder of the lives that once thrived in this now-quiet wilderness.

© 2023 John Bulmer Media, John Bulmer Photography. 

The Ruins of Grafton | A Photo Essay

The Ruins of Grafton
By John Bulmer, John Bulmer Photography 

It’s easy to forget what our modern landscapes looked like before us, before they became what we know them as today. Autumn is the perfect time to think about the contours of the landscape, as the leaves age beautifully and fall to the ground, revealing the natural features of the landscape that allow us to visualize what the land was like before we knew it.

Some of the land that Grafton Lakes State Park sits on was originally owned by the city of Troy and used for the city's water supply, but there are layers of history to be found in the park that predates its public land status. It was established as a park in 1963 and opened to the public in 1971. But the long history of indigenous populations, primarily Algonquian and Iroquoian-speaking nations, and European settlers, adds depth to the park's story.

During the American Revolution, Grafton residents actively participated in the fight for independence. The town, like many others in the area, witnessed military activities and strategic movements of troops. In the 19th century, the town's economy diversified, with the development of mills, sawmills, and other small industries, taking advantage of the water power from the many streams in the area. Today, most of the relics of the time before it became a park have vanished under decades of decomposing leaf litter and the natural processes that will eventually reclaim all that has been built.

In the corners of the park today, relics from the past can still be found if you know where to look.
In the 18th century, Grafton's early economy was primarily agricultural, with settlers engaging in farming and small-scale industry. Evidence of this lost industry runs through the park like lines on a long-lost map in the form of stone walls. These weathered stone walls silently tell tales of the past, remnants often moss-covered and partially hidden beneath layers of leaves, standing as enduring markers of the state's agricultural history. Constructed by early European settlers, these stone walls served as boundaries, enclosures, and property lines for farms and homesteads. Each stone, meticulously placed by hand, reflects the labor and dedication of the settlers who cleared the land, one stone at a time, to make way for fields and pastures. Witnessing them today, it’s hard not to speculate about the massive amount of labor required to construct them. Over the years, as agriculture shifted and forests reclaimed the land, these walls endured, becoming integral parts of the natural landscape.

If you look the next time you are in the park, they are everywhere, and once you notice them, you will never look at the landscape the same way again.

Not far off some of the dirt roads that serve as the major thoroughfares of the park, evidence of the people who lived here before can be found at the intersection of some of the many stone walls. In numerous locations, hand-built stone foundations remain visible. They are containers open to the sky, holding the artifacts of someone’s life: apothecary bottles, plates, rusted cars, the wheels of a child’s wagon, and old telephone wires. Moss-covered concrete blocks remain in the forest, their regular, straight lines standing out in stark contrast to the organic lines of the forest. Each find is a tangible connection to the past. The infrastructure of old telephones and power boxes also remains; if you follow their breadcrumb trail of artifacts through the forest, you can get a sense of what this little corner of Rensselaer County must have looked like before the park was established.

© 2023 John Bulmer Media, John Bulmer Photography.