About a month ago I was walking under the 10th Street bridge and passed by Chester's Place. It seemed to have grown since the last time I had walked this way. This time I decided to go around the fence and take a tour up inside the thing before snow and winter winds start to blow things around. I found an article in the Star Tribune from 2015 about Chester and his life under the bridge. He died about a year ago and yet his camp remains as something of a testament to not only his homeless-by-choice lifestyle but also the willingness of his community to look out for him. It feels more like an art installation now and something that is obviously being cared for by others who may have know him.
Maybe Chester had visitors who would stop by. His space seems inviting in a weird kind of way. I hope he wouldn't mind me poking my nose around in his home. (I think I was respectful.)
I love the little figurines in the garden.
There's one of the vehicles that no longer worked.
And his truck.
I was glad to read in the article that Chester liked to pick up trash in nearby Bluff Park. He must have brought all his odd finds back to his camp, but maybe now other folks are bringing little items too.