Done Docks

It is with a hefty cardiac organ that I announce my decision to discontinue The Loading Area. After 14 posts and nearly two years, I believe I've said virtually all I can on the dear subject of loading docks. To continue to post would be purely ego-driven and would only diminish the blog as a whole. When I started TLA in August 2012, I felt my efforts would be worth it if I could get just one individual excited about loading docks. And I did get one individual excited--myself. Through this process of chronicling and celebrating loading docks in Boise and points beyond, I learned the important lesson that the only person I really have any semblance of control over is myself. Although I'm reasonably certain I've changed the world to some degree in my capacity as a Kreationist, the humble, unassuming docks I've sought out have taught me to be mindful and set personal boundaries regarding what I am and am not responsible for.

But enough about me. At this time, I'd like to extend a sincere "thanks" to those few but fervent dockheads who have supported me these past 22 months. I'd also like to say that, although the blog is over, the fun isn't--The Loading Area will remain live indefinitely as a sort of loading dock e-museum for any and all who want to explore it for years to come.

Finally, I want to ballast the sentimental tone of this final post with an exciting announcement. As of yesterday, I am embarking on a new project--Boise Splits. BS, like TLA, is a look at phenomena on the urban/suburban periphery--only this time I'll be looking at small, split-entry office buildings erected in the 1960s and 1970s. I intend to employ an un-embelished, more academic tone in this new blog project. I hope you follow it! Should be as fascinating as it is unprecedented.

As much as I want to keep writing to prolong the inevitable, it's time to call it quits. In true Loading Area fashion, I leave you with this melancholy yet hopeful pic:          

A ruined warehouse on Apple Street, just off Federal Way in Boise. All that remains are the truck-height foundation and safety bumpers--an injured but discernible loading dock, standing defiant amid the swath of time's wrecking ball. Truly an enduring image of optimism in an uncertain universe!

Non-Docks

Today's featured loading dock is actually not a loading dock at all. In fact, I use this image to clear up any confusion over what constitutes a dock and what does not. Although the specimen pictured below conveys the phenotype of a loading dock upon cursory observation (even more so than previous examples deemed docks), a closer examination reveals a glaring automatic disqualifier: an at-grade seam between door and floor, rather than the requisite truck-height configuration. Also, few if any of the accouterments required to safely load and unload freight are present: no bumpers, no leveler, no seal, not even a rudimentary truck restraint system. Very likely, this gateway (and it's apparently vacant parent structure, for that matter) was never involved in the intended purpose of storing and transferring large quantities of goods at frequent intervals. The building seems to fit more into the profile of a commercial shop (probably an automotive servicing facility) and the door simply a means to protect the bay within from the elements, climatic and otherwise. To be blunt, it's a garage. Though a venerable portal in its own right with undoubtedly many stories to tell, it is simply NOT a loading dock.

The large overhead door on the right side of this cinder block edifice on Grand Ave in Boise is decidedly not a loading dock. 

Reflection: Why did I present to you this non-dock? You may wonder, as I often do, can't anything be a dock? Isn't everything just matter? Just part of a single universe? Are we, then, ourselves loading docks and they us? Of course! But for language to function (though perhaps imperfectly) as a means of communication and relation to one another and to our surroundings, we need to put our proverbial foot down every once in a while to draw a distinction between that which is a loading dock and that which is not. Without the establishment of varying typologies such as these, we would likely be adrift in a plane devoid of contrasting sensory stimuli. It could very well be that this void is serene and spurs pure contentment. Maybe this is what death is. But in life, I don't find this prospect terribly interesting or fascinating. Hence, this post. Thank you.

Bench Docks

Earlier this year, while padding along a pristine sidewalk in a Central Bench industrial zone, a profound realization struck me. It's relevance and application eluded me, however. But now, after seven months of percolation, rumination and even some fermentation, a tangible product has bubbled to the surface. Upon cursory glance, it's your garden variety experimental mixed-media dock poem. But I look at it as an unclassifiable article with a consciousness unto itself. I served, perhaps, as a mere conduit to give it perceivable form in our limited plane of understanding. Regard:

"Emerald Corridor -- Feb. 18, 2013"

A trek to "work"

A trek back "home"

And along the way

an exploration of

seams to reveal

liminal fixtures...

...fixations remain 

even 

livery arranged...

...context cropped

from hodgepodge, opportunities

in whimsical voids...  

...narrow verdant portals

welcome narrow

verdant cadavers...

...a flashing-clothed spur

eyes an un-

trodden inverse environ...

...delving...

...emitting...

...pending ascension tempered,

airing warily outside...

...to scrape along

on toes... 

...of unacknowledged 

mettle.

Downtown Docks

Today we draw our attention to a motley assortment of loading docks in and around the southern extremity of Boise's 8th Street Cultural District. This is a gritty pocket of the city's central core that has in recent memory teetered on the edge of the redevelopment ravine. Will this area and the diverse docks who call it home plunge irrevocably into the cookie-cutter chasm of loft housing and brunch spots? Sadly, the shared sensory experiences and spatial interactions of the many are at the mercy of a select few. Until such time as these landed elites cavalierly alter our collective landscape, let us celebrate and find meaning in our existing surroundings:

600 Block, S. 8th Street: An improvised-looking dock graces a corrugated ziggurat of a warehouse. A truly singular specimen.

River Street at 9th: The old Associated Distributing warehouse boasts both a large open dock (left) and a more conventional flush dock (right center). Variety is the spice of life.

500 Block, S. 10th Street: This massive structure was previously fed by railroad tracks, prior to their unceremonious removal from downtown. The creative addition of a platform, dock leveler and bumpers, however, give the former rail car loading door above a new life as a worthy truck-to-warehouse interface.

Riverside Docks

I regret that I cannot deliver gladder tidings with today's post, but, then again, I have always associated this season more with coldness, withering and death. Today we look at what once was: a pair of freight transshipment terminals operated by Estes Express Lines and Saia Motor Freight Line, respectively. These now erstwhile freight yards where located near the Boise River and Ann Morrison Park on the opposite side of Capitol Blvd. from Boise State University. Undoubtedly, this was an ideal location to move freight and dispatch trucks in the mid 1950s. Since that time, however, freeway construction and institutional creep have changed the character of this neighborhood, compelling Estes and Saia to relocate to more appropriate facilities near the Boise Airport. Sometime during the past nine months, these no-longer-relevant structures were leveled to the ground, likely to make room for student-oriented housing or low-rise commercial office buildings. Certainly, times change and this dense riverfront neighborhood is perhaps better off without the congestion associated with freight liner traffic. What is tragic, however, is how brusquely and unceremoniously we wipe loading docks off the face of the planet without so much as an acknowledgement of their years of dutiful service. May the memory of these and other docks be preserved in at least some modest way in the following video:

 

Bench Docks

Who can say they are bored when so many undiscovered sensory stimuli are out there just waiting to be found? There is always something to unearth, even in those places we consider most familiar. I experienced this earlier today, while walking along Emerald Street near the old railroad spur. An all-together peculiar loading dock revealed itself to me, and although hitherto unknown in my limited envelope of consciousness, I'm sure it's had and will continue to enjoy a long and storied life. Behold:

Note the unconventional truck-height-bumper/at-grade hydraulic-lift/recessed-bay-door combo. A dock is a dock is a dock!

West Docks

Loading docks are all around us, whether or not we directly encounter them in our workaday lives. Take for instance any retail node of notable scale, such as the one at the southeast corner of Cole Road and Fairview Avenue in West Boise. Patrons of either the Albertsons grocery store or Burlington Coat Factory may only utilize the front entrances, but the less-frequented dorsal sides of the complex comprise a universe all their own:

Albertsons' lone dock, south side of building. Note the graceful decline to the below-grade dock.

Burlington Coat Factory's twin docks, east side of building. Note the north dock encumbered by a garbage dumpster. Why keep this lamp under a basket?

Downtown Docks

The Loading Area's inaugural post is a melancholy one, as it presents a loading dock that exists no longer in linear time but in the hearts and minds of those who loved it. I'm speaking of the venerable old Compton Transfer & Storage building that stood on Ninth Street south of Front from around 1948 until this past spring. Luckily, I managed to snap a few shots of the warehouse's wide, elegant docking area before the structure was razed to make room for the forthcoming JUMP project. Though not as ostentatious as its successor, the Compton Warehouse was a mainstay of the urban fabric in Downtown Boise's periphery for over six decades. It will be sorely missed, but change is inevitable and even the most robust loading dock's corporeal existence is ephemeral in the grand scheme.