Abandoned for more modern constructions or left behind to adrift once the occupants died, abandoned houses populate the countryside. Hidden under vegetation who tries to conquer its old territory, sometimes the passing years prevent explorers from entering into these incredible places by collapsing the foundations or by twisting the walls like old rags.

Few of them will be restored after many years left to themselves. Most of the time, years will turn them down or they will be destroyed when municipal councils get tired to see these buildings agonizing (and visited by kids).

Urbex Playground presents here some of these old beauties located in the Montérégie area, south of Montreal.

Anecdotes and stories you hear only by old folks from the countryside.

The story of Mister Robillard and his pink house

The least we can say about Mr. Robillard is that he was a peculiar person. Robillard with two L. “Like the angels," he said when it came time to spell his name (in French, the sound L also mean "ailes" - French word for wings). Born with only one arm, he married a woman with only one leg.

His wife had died a few years ago and the old man was alone for the first time of his life. Despite everything, despite his disability especially, the man was still proud as a peacock. He had kept the habit of picking the old broken gizmos and most useless things (half broken, of course). His barns behind the house were real museum in memories of all those old broken transistors, cables of any kind, old computer parts from the 80s and a mountain of useless stuff that neither you nor I would like. But Mr. Robillard was the kind of man who loved these things that nobody else wanted.

Moreover, he and his wife bought this house that was condemned to be demolished a very long time ago, knowing it had several flaws. "It lacks a few pieces, like us, but we like it," he said.

They had done some work here and there (such as a lift for his wife), but most rooms were padlocked. Several locks on every door, by the way. He did that for potential thieves. He had nothing to steal, but they were old folks and people believe that old folks always have some money hidden somewhere. So, he had been visited by some thugs during his absence and that motivated him to consider such scenarios.

Moreover, he and his wife’s life seemed to revolve around a terrible fear of the outside world. Atop his 70 years (maybe more, I didn't ask), he did not trust anybody. He never answered the door and if you needed to call them, you had to leave a message on the answering machine and then, he called you back a few minutes later.

It was through an advertising for my business placed in a local newspaper that we met each other. He phoned me and his voice was trembling so much I was under the impression that he was drunk. By his singular questions and his strange speech, I was convinced that a friend of mine was joking on the phone. In short, he told me about the old computer he bought from a school and about his project to pay me for some computer lessons. His goal? Sell old shortwave radios and other items on the web.

Unfortunately, he had never touched a computer in his life and the principle of the cursor was like an occult science to his eyes. I must admit that I gave up after a few lessons, clearly seeing that this type of volunteering couldn't help him. Moreover, most of the two hours spent with him were occupied by stories of his youth when he was a gas station attendant or freemason... I guess this whole thing was more about socializing than informing him about new technologies. Sad story.

Today, I do not know if Mr. Robillard is still alive. It’s been two years since I saw him. But judging by the length of the grass in front of his home and the absence of snow removal in the parking last winter, I guess that his family probably took the old man under their wing or that he joined his “old lady”, as he said...