Watching the comings and goings of doctors, nurses and new patients was a mainstay of asylum routine; one can find it easy to imagine pale faces pressed against the block glass windows, staring out at the world moving past them.
It seemed the only way to get a view of the room was to climb above the mounds of rotting donations, now not even fit to burn.
The second floor in the smaller house, which was a bit smaller than the Head Keeper’s house.
One of the only remaining pieces of equipment in the distilling room is this green control panel on a bridge suspended in the middle of it all.
Rows of offices under the power plant, which was in the middle of being demolished during my adventure. Despite the snow, this was meant as an interior.
The Engine House’s boiler, which would have been fired all day all day, virtually from the day the shop opened until the day it closed.
“GREETING FROM BEAUTIFUL GARY–WISH YOU WERE HERE!” My postcard shot.
If you know what BTI stands for, please leave a comment.
On the boarded-up first floor of the house proper near the door to the chapel, the last pew sites next to a wet box of Bibles.