My Stella/LML/PX, parked just out of sight of the squatter's camp on the other side of the river there. I've been watching this camp get built up over months as my commuter train passes it by. It's in a bright little valley under power lines, tucked in between the Baltimore-Washington rail line and an abandoned spur into the nearby industrial park, and every day, it's a bit better. The guy's got a tent and a well-built fire pit, a clothesline, beach umbrella, a bench, and a real tidy little home place there on the bank of the river. I've been dying to get a photo for weeks, and I finally went looking today, sneaking through a water treatment plant to get to a grown-over service trail to the storm drain tunnels that run under the tracks. The scoot's a little tentative on swampy ground, but I got there without a mishap.
Parked it, worked my way through the brush, and saw the guy sitting by his campfire, reading a book and looking pretty damn contented, and decided not to intrude with my camera.