Archive for Raleigh Township

Raleigh Township Abandoned Houses

Posted in Abandoned House, Chatham-Kent with tags , , , , , on April 30, 2011 by countybandits

Finally! My crutches have been left in the dust, my leg brace kicked under the bed. I’m happily walking about with just a slight limp, so I slung our new Nikon D7000 around my neck at the first opportunity and went for a tour. Mind you, it was very short and only around our ‘neighborhood’, but it’s amazing what you can find so close to home. With warmer weather approaching I can promise there will be many more photos coming your way. If you haven’t already, please follow us on Twitter – and ‘Like’ us on Facebook –!/pages/County-Bandits/145244382204288

When I first pulled up to photograph this two-house property on the Ninth Line, I was greeted by the breathtaking sight of a giant turkey vulture sunning himself on the barn roof. I wish the lens I was using at that moment had a bit more zoom, but alas I was only able to capture him from a distance. The Ontario farmhouse on this property has incredible window trim, like nothing I’ve ever seen. The gingerbread on the porch is also beautiful. Simple, but elegant. I wish someone had cared enough about this home to keep it from sliding into such derelict condition. I find it amazing that someone stole the lightning rods from their metal stands atop the roof for the little bit of copper therein.
Abandoned Ontario Farmhouse, Chatham-Kent, Gingerbread Window Trim

The second house on the Ninth Line property appears to be a newer addition than the Ontario farmhouse across the lane way. I wonder what circumstance led to both houses, and presumably the entire ‘farm’, being abandoned? This small residence didn’t have much going on in the way of architecture, so I only snapped two photos.

I continued down the Ninth Line until I stumbled across this giant, wood sided Victorian home. I had actually completely forgotten that it was located on the Ninth since I haven’t seen it since I first blogged about it here, years ago! It belongs to a prominent Chatham-Kent ‘legend’, “Crazy F—”. If you’re a Chatham native, I’m sure you can complete the name without much trouble. As I probably said in the last post about this home, I would strongly recommend that you stay away from this property as the eccentric owner is often present.

This final home is not located in Raleigh Township, but as I made my way to Dorothy’s Antiques (in a very leisurely, country tour sort of way) I found myself driving past this beauty. Located in the Charing Cross area, this stately brick house has always piqued my interest. I thoroughly enjoy the style of the home. Understated but beautiful to look at. Something about it says Martha Stewart to me, but maybe that’s just my unhealthy Martha obsession coming to the surface. Many years back on a stroll past this property, I wandered my way up to it to poke around a little. A sticker on the door indicated the ‘contents were marked for identification by the OPP’. After asking around a little, I was told the home had been broken in to at one point and some tools were stolen. Storing valuable items in an abandoned home seems… well, I don’t even think I need to finish that thought.

Thanks for reading, and I promise to have another update for everyone soon.


Return to 7th Line…

Posted in Chatham-Kent, Commentary with tags , , , on January 20, 2008 by countybandits

The farmhouse on 7th line had sat undisturbed by us for almost a year until last night. It had weathered the rainy spring, the searing hot summer, half of a frostbite inducing winter, and remained sitting steadfast at the end of the long, bumpy driveway leading up to it. Everything looked the same, the smashed windows, the overgrown weeds, the rotted porch, the bed frame just visible inside an upstairs room, which amazingly still had an intact window. The intact window that had briefly held the face of a man last April.

During our blogging hiatus, we had the good fortune to meet some local fellow house hunters. As a group, we explored an old insulbrick farmhouse along Highway 3, a Monestary by the lake, and even made a return visit to the “house full of memories”, which is a story in itself. Last night, three of us decided to brave a return trip to 7th Line. My accomplice, myself, and a fellow hunter. Soon, word spread of the planned trip, and three more were in for the adventure. We took two vehicles, plenty of Maglites, some protective measures, and as much courage as we could muster up.

When we pulled in the driveway, the full moon was illuminating just the outline of the large brick house. There were no lights, no cars, no bicycles, no signs of life whatsoever. The accomplice and I figured there would be no happenings this time, as there were last time we attempted to enter the house. Surely whoever, whatever, was there had moved on. The cold was enough to make your fingers hurt within a minute or two, and freeze the inside of your nose with each breath. How could anyone bear to stay in a drafty old brick house with no apparent hydro or running water?

We walked cautiously up to the house, making our way up the formed concrete back steps. The back door wasn’t wired or locked shut, although a rusted padlock was hanging nearby, doing nothing. I stayed outside, on the edge of the porch, with my 6-D cell Maglite held on my shoulder. The rest of the group made their way inside, and I kept watch just outside the door. I watched and listened as everyone stepped forward, carefully, through the front entryway and ventured slowly in to the kitchen. It wasn’t long before there were strained whispers and footsteps shuffling backwards towards the door. I asked, what the hell was going on? I couldn’t hear much since I was outside…

Only a moment later, everyone was making a hasty exit and moving towards the vehicles. Apparently, once people had made their way to the decimated kitchen, a racket started right above them on the second floor. Creaking of metal bedsprings, thumping, and eventually, clearly defined footsteps. Someone said they could hear breathing, heavy breaths… another said they swore they could hear a low whispering. As we left the place, and headed up the driveway, we moved our flashlights over all the windows. The Accomplice caught a movement in an upstairs window, but that was all. We saw nothing more.

Who, or what, is living in the 7th Line farmhouse? A house littered with raccoon feces, mould, broken glass and fallen plaster? Where there is never a light on, no sign of electricity, no evidence of a mode of transportation, all the way at the end of a lonely country road. Unfortunatley, we have never made it past that kitchen area to see the rest of the house, and unless the current tenant decides to move away, we may never get any farther.