“Crunch, crunch, crunch,” said the ground. “I know,” I replied.
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The Algosteel navigating Superior Entry.
The fiery side of a launch building, just is it began to rain.
A typical hallway in the rocket assembly line.
More than half a century of plans rot in the shadows, seemingly useless.
C’mon, guys. PIck up to trash.
From atop a concrete slap that seals the old path of Mine Shaft #3, I loop up into the hoisting room.
Lost words over the auditorium entrance.
Sprouts of life in center of a smashed glass block.
As the Barker steamed past the dock and island, the sunset casts the shadow of the Taconite Harbor receiving trestle on the boat. Through the fog, you can see some of the islands that were joined into a breakwater.