Read time: 8 min.

I bought a drone- specifically, a DJI  Mini SE- four or five years ago when I worked at an old factory. I desperately wanted to explore the ancient tunnel that connected both halves of the historic campus, but the ladder down was rusty and untrustworthy. Unfortunately, an aging air compressor next to the hatch fired off regular, rhythmic blasts that made it impossible to keep the hovering Mini SE centered over the opening. Nevertheless, I still managed to put the drone to good use, and here are ten cool photos I’ve taken with it. 

DJI’s Mini SE is an impressive piece of kit for not a lot of money. That money was about $450, total, when I bought it several years ago, and it included a bunch of extra crap I don’t really need like propeller guards, a mounted headlamp, and extra blades. There’s also stuff I do use or plan to, at least: a second battery, range extenders, and pontoon skis. They all contributed to the total. 

Those range extenders really earned their keep when I used them to send the drone on a long trip from a public easement to Jay County’s old White Oak schoolhouse, not far from the Loblolly Marsh. Even more than fifty years ago, the place was hard to reach: a 1968 newspaper article declared the schoolhouse “missing¹” and explained that there was no way to find it on a casual drive-by without binoculars. The road leading to White Oak had been abandoned for at least a decade by then², which left the schoolhouse stranded far from anything resembling a modern route past. 

I live in Muncie, Indiana, about forty miles southwest of the old White Oak schoolhouse. This city’s biggest claim to fame is the Ball Brothers Glass Manufacturing Company, later Ball Corporation, which made most of its famous Mason jars here from 1887 to 1962³. Some of that old infrastructure survives, and, for now, Ball-branded lids are still made in part of the former glass factory. I worked there when I first flew my drone over the complex and captured all that’s left but the former offices and a warehouse. In the distance, Ball’s old 132-foot batch tower⁴ looms over everything.

One of my earliest drone trips took me to the old Mt. Zion Methodist Episcopal Church, which has stood along Eaton-Wheeling Pike since 1867⁵. It’s Delaware County’s oldest church! I buzzed around its belfry and took some low aerial shots of the burials behind it, but the most striking view came from several hundred feet up. From there, the tiny strip of property sits like an island in a vast sea of cornfields- a little patch of Delaware County’s past that survived while everything around it got drained, seeded, and plowed. 

A company I worked for was stingy about everyday expenses. Nevertheless, they spent thousands on an annual event called Family Day. It featured miniature train tours, inflatables, bouncy houses, and even Captain America. I asked HR if my drone might be useful for boastful photos for the company intranet, and they enthusiastically said yes! Unfortunately, that second Family Day wasn’t nearly as busy as the first; by year three, the whole thing had been canceled.

I can’t remember how I learned that the remains of an old concrete swimming pool sat beside a quarry in the Randolph County hamlet of Maxville, but I remember heading there with my mom and grandma to send the drone up for a look. The quarry itself had long been a popular -and illicit- swimming hole, but a sixteen-year-old drowned there in 1935⁶. A proper pool, originally called Hartley⁷, eventually opened nearby and lasted until 1976⁸, Today, its concrete remains are hidden by fencing up near the top center of my shot. Without the drone, I never would have seen what’s left. 

I remember exactly when I heard that the old high school in Spartanburg had burned to the ground. Early on March 12, 2012, a fire ripped through the abandoned Randolph County school, triggering explosions and sending burning embers and ash that coated the town. Sixteen fire departments responded, some from as far away as Roseburg and Arcanum, Ohio⁹, but the building was toast. The next morning, I called in to work and made a beeline for Spartanburg to see what was left. Eleven years later, I went back- that time with the drone.

Seventeen miles south of Spartanburg sits Richmond, a popular subject of mine given all its history. Thistlethwaite Falls is in the suburb of Spring Grove, where it’s been ever since Timothy Thistlethwaite blasted it open with dynamite to supercharge his mill in 1854¹⁰. The west fork of the Whitewater River was pretty sedate when I flew the Mini SE over it, but last August’s floodwaters swept over the Waterfall Bridge and ruined it. Fortunately, the bridge was rapidly restored; intact a few weeks ago when I crossed over it. 

The tiny town of Raysville sits a county west of Richmond along an old alignment of the National Road. I’ve spent a lot of time there lately and, like my friend Jim Grey, puzzled over its strangely named and routed Star Boulevard. As it turns out, the road follows an old railroad bed converted into a dam in 1923¹¹. The dam created Knightstown Lake, a pleasure resort planned by none other than The Indianapolis Star! Decades after the project went belly-up, the road was closed after the dam was destroyed to prevent a catastrophic collapse. Here’s the dry lakebed, with the remains of Star Boulevard cutting diagonally across the frame.

From quarries and pools to waterfalls and lakebeds, I guess I’ve taken a shine to flying the Mini SE over water! Unfortunately, that’s bad for radio signals- water absorbs and scatters them. I found that out the hard way when I sent to take photos of the dam at Muncie’s Prairie Creek Reservoir. The earthen impoundment was built by the Muncie Water Works in 1959. At 3,000 feet long and forty-two feet tall, the massive structure required 370,000 cubic yards of earth fill¹². That’s enough dirt to fill three Meijer hypermarkets! Unfortunately, this is as close as I got before the drone lost connection, activated autopilot, and came hovering back to mission control. 

The last photo I’m sharing comes from Muncie as well. I kept hearing that parts of what’s now McGalliard Road west of the city were part of Jackson Street Pike. I live off of Jackson Street! I’d never realized that part of the abandoned road flows into the present routing of McGalliard -State Road 332- still sits there in decay. There was no way I was threading my car down it, so I raced home and grabbed the drone. The sight was striking from above. 

That’s ultimately what I like most about the drone. I bought it to explore a tunnel I never actually managed to fly through, but it wound up giving me access to places I otherwise couldn’t reach or even properly see! Seeing most of these photos with 2022 or 2023 dates, I need to bring it out again- and soon. The Mini SE hasn’t turned me into much of a pilot, but it did change the way I document the places I’m already inclined to poke around. Four or five years later, I’d say that was worth the $450.

Sources Cited
1 THE MISSING Loblolly Marsh schoolhouse does exist… (1968). The Portland Commercial Review.
2 (See footnote 1).
3 Parkinson, L.J. (1962, January 13). Ball Company Will End Glass Making Here. The Muncie Evening Press. p. 1.
4 Ceremonies Mark Start of Ball Brothers Building (1954, August 26). The Muncie Star. p. 2.
5 Survey Number 035-676-05007 (1985). IHSSI (County Survey). SHAARD. Indiana Department of Natural Resources [Indianapolis]. Web. Retrieved September 29, 2026.
6 Approve Funds For Townships (1935, August 7). The Muncie Star. p. 3.
7 Mauzy, R. (1947, May 12). McFadden Says. The Muncie Evening Press. p. 7.
8 Stone, M.A. (1977, May 24). Pool Opening Doubted. The Muncie Star. p. 18.
9 Engle, B. (2012, March 13). Fire damages old Spartanburg School. The Muncie Star Press. p. 4.
10 Warfel, A. (1995, October 17). The Legend of Thistlethwaite Falls. The RichmondPalladium-Item. p. 11.
11 Knightstown Lake Catches Eves of Thousands Who Indulge in Vision of Happier Vacation Days (1923, October 21). The Indianapolis Star. p. 32.
12 Loy, B. (1961, August 26). Prairie Creek Reservoir Has Become a Reality. The Muncie Evening Press. p. 91.