If it wasn’t for the humming and crackling of the wires, I could believe I had arrived to a post apocalyptic landscape.
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I am not sure what caused the discoloration, but two of the walls near the door to the machine shop are stained yellow-red. I assume this had to do with the walls in relation to blowing piles of iron ore, and that the walls have been partly infused with iron oxide. Any other ideas?
When boiling beet juice accidentally spills from the gas-fired tanks two feet away, you better be wearing some of these, or bye-bye legs.
A typical rail shop.
A guard to keep sawdust from the water fountain.
With the maintenance door open you can see the buckets on in the vertical conveyor.
A panorama showing the biggest building in Gilman—unless you count the massive mine below as a structure.
“Crunch, crunch, crunch,” said the ground. “I know,” I replied.
Originally, this part of the dock was reserved for the weather station.
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.