The top floor’s old-fashioned hospital ways were too much to pass without a photo or two… with the paint falling off the walls it was as if the building was shedding its skin in an effort to become rejuvenated or useful.
…out of our depth.
Preparing to drive up the narrow road into Picayune Gulch, which was barely wide enough for my SUV.
In this old repair shop, vines fall from the rotting roof to meet mossy concrete. Even though it had been dry for days, water dripped in from the roof to make permanent puddles between workstations. It was full of color and sound and industry and nature.
An old name for an older elevator, as seen from an abandoned rail spur.
Snow flies across the frame as the sunken cribbing freezes bellow the concrete.
It’s a small world… look at it.
The side of the maintenance shops, still home to several disassembled electric carts.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.