Kate stands on top of the tailings pile that added some usable land to the side of the gulch. Somewhere nearby is the buried Santiago Tunnel.
Approaching the power station and its giant stack. The stack replaced four shorter stacks in the 1960s, helping with pollution in the downtown corridor.
Sunrise over Mill Hell, and all of Kurth’s various skyways. The elevators in the foreground date to the mid-1920s, Electric Steel is behind and is a little earlier than that.
One leg of the headframe meets the hoist house. Two cranes are rusted in place.
The fiery side of a launch building, just is it began to rain.
Exploring the plant while live Reggae plays nearby was bizarre.
SFAAP’s iconic smokestacks. You’d notice if you drove past this on the highway.
An abandoned ranch on the east side of the tracks. This was not the Colmor Cutoff they were waiting for.
The side of a launcher, with outbuildings in the background. You can see the tracks where the roof would open before launch.
The company headquarters. Abandoned last time I drove past it, though it is the classiest building in downtown South Bend.
Some guerilla art for passing drivers on I-94 East to enjoy. Artist unknown.
One of the old cooperage buildings is largely unchanged from when it was built. The raised section of the building houses a crane.
Looking across the catwalk attache to the elevated control room, in charge of the train dumping part of the operation.
If you look carefully along the side of the slip alongside this image of Cargill B-2, you will see the remains of the crane stops when this was a Hannah coal dock.
The tallest dock structure is an equipment elevator that connects the many dock levels.
A windmill marks one corner of GOW.
The top of the grain handler of Ogilvie’s. The flagpole serves as a lightning rod. In fact, I would not be surprised if that was its primary purpose.
Looking at the headframe for Shaft 3 from the tower for Shaft 1. Below is the roof of the Dry House. It was hard to remind myself that these building have been abandoned longer than I’ve been alive.
Winter skies over Allouez Bay. From a distance, it looks almost fragile.
A cloud moves across the attic in front of the window. How? A photographer’s secret.
Zachary Taylor’s very own Scottish castle, spring-side in the Kentucky backcountry. Boarded and waiting, but in surprisingly good condition, considering the decades. I especially love the tower on the right side of the frame.
The modern shaft stands above the north side of Gilman.
The screen and mineral stained window cross-processed the sky.
SWP4-A on the left and Viterra C on the right in a 90-degree panorama.
It’s a small world… look at it.
Sunrise in SEMI. The shadow of Kurth Malt is cast across ADM-Delmar #1. Clouds behind ADM-Delmar #4 light up. It’s cold and the air smells like train grease.
A full harbor on a hot summer evening, just after twilight, as seen from atop the castle walls.
At first glance, I thought the center building was a hoist house because of the shape of the window. Now I think this was built as a warehouse and later used as a laboratory.
This sign was important when trains ran the length of the elevator.
A gymnasium, if I recall. The last building before the road dead-ends.
Sometime soon, maybe in early 2016, someone will have this view from their office or condo.
The Big Dipper brought its friends into view, and the best seat is 80-feet up.
A look at the Longmont Sugar Mill in May 2014.
Looking at The Windy City from the top of the coal tower. The pond you see is the former ACME Coke coal yard.
The Harrison flour mill, completed in 1897 and expanded in 1901 and 1902. The tunnel that I am standing on probably transported grain from the elevator to the mill. Medium Format.
The approach to the dock is rigidly geometric. I always thought its outline was beautiful against the lake that, by contrast, was always moving.
Originally, this part of the dock was reserved for the weather station.
Standing where the Final Assembly Building used to hum and staring across the former site of the Sheet Metal and Spring buildings. Today, of course, the Foundry is gone as well, so you’d be looking across Prairie Ave.
Dr. Muchow’s offices stand near his ‘new’ mill, but they show evidence of vandalism.
A social club/restaurant that was likely the place to be late at night.
The fantastic red elevator that is Pool #61, built 1928.
Even with a hundred people parked in front of the lakeside relic, it was invisible.
The Clipper was one of the most popular Packards, but its production was cut short by WWII. Had they produced the car instead of Rolls Royce plane engines I imagine there would might be driving a Packard today, rather than a Ford.
The building is winking.
Unloading boats had the option to take on fuel at Taconite Harbor. This building, among other things, pumped fuel to the dock.
A row of security lights line the roof of the power station.
In this ghost town where there were brick, wooden, and dirt-brick buildings, the latter fared the best by far.
Rogers Mine is one of the most structurally sound mines in the Iron River area that isn’t part of a museum.
An unshielded heaframe and single pulley.
This tree caught my eye. Note the bench swing near it. Portra 160.
A long exposure under the trestle-like approach to the dock, under which trains still pass regularly.
The sun unzipped the clouds. Mist blew across the harbor.
Like a grave marker, a single post remembers where Dock 3 stood on the bay.
On the National Mine property are two shafts, both serving the same workings. This one seems to have gotten some upgrades in the 1960s, judging from the condition of the metal.
Where the trees are sprouting–below the skyways and criss-crossing pipes–are two sets of railroad tracks that turned through this narrow alleyway through the middle of the production line to drop off raw materials and pick up finished product.
The conveyor between the shore and Dock 2. Note the gap in the aerial walkway that used to connect Dock 4 to the rest of the complex.
The control room floats above the top of the dock atop a spiral staircase.
This building was 99 years old when it was demolished for the coal mine.
The porch of the Gustavson House with the southern San Juan range in the background. Bring your own rocking chair…
Reflections of graffiti during spring melt.
The back of the neon sign before it was converted to LED lighting. The image is mirrored so it can be read.
One thing I like to do at Gopher is imagine the shape of the planned buildings based on the partial structures.
Looking up the tallest structure left at ACME.
The hiking around Central City is beautiful and full of history. Just get a proper topo map!
An abandoned house at Tilston, MB.
On the left are rows of dayrooms; on the right is one of two long hallways which connect the two halves of the hospital. The large, center section of the hallway would fit chairs for patients to look out on the gardens. They called it a conservatory. This hallway would be as close as some patients would get to nature.
Looking north from the east portal of the tunnel… a beautiful place. Wilderness. Mamiya 6/Portra 160
Knowing that a tornado just passed nearby is less distressing when you’re surrounded by nuclear-attack-hardened buildings.
A side view of the oven pusher from the ground. The tallest coal bunker looks tiny in the distance, though on the scale of the factory it’s practically on top of me as I’m taking the picture.
Where equipment was scrapped.
I wonder what this guy is thinking, walking through the complex.
The lower door is where the rocket exhaust would flow into the blast pit during initial launch. The upper doors would vent the rocket so the erector and other equipment in the building would not be (as) damaged.
The roof was in bad shape, but too beautiful to avoid. This is the spot were I used to study medieval Latin.
The last of four radar domes on the base.
Colleen on the roof.
A shot of Longmont from the highway. Fuji 35mm.
Near Howardsville, Colorado, the Animas River gets quite wide. This is near the Little Nation Mill, which is worth a stop if you’re traveling north from SIlverton. It’s also near the former Gold King Mine, which “blew” in 2015 and flooded the Animas River with toxic mine water.
Ava near the Memorial Building. The block glass embedded in the sidewalk here is actually a skylight for the tunnel below, which connects the Memorial Building to the steam and supply systems of the hospital.
It would be a shame if this building is not preserved. Word is (as of 2015) that construction may start on this section soon.
The concrete walls, heavy steel blast doors, and plastic roof tell me that this was one of the shell loading buildings.
Looking at Carrie from the place where the molten steel would be cast
These houses were built for the use of the lighthouse keepers in 1913 (left) and 1916 (right). The second house was added when the entry added a fourth light and required a second rotation. Today, there are no unbroken windows in either building.
I believe this is the push car, meaning it would push the charge in the oven out the opposite side into the train car.
Identical warehouses seem a little newer than the rest of the plant. I suspect these were added in the mid-1950s for the Korean War, during which about 200 buildings were added to the complex.
A dead work truck rusts near an outbuilding. Everything is marked with a code. Modernity.
The end of Dock 5 is warped and bent from a rail accident that left some ore cars swinging like a stringy wrecking ball into the end of the superstructure and accompanying stair. The stairs are still navigable, but it wasn’t recommended by the CN workers that were with me.
The St. Louis County Sheriff constantly patrols the property looking for trespassers.
A morning breeze pushes the last ice from the lake against Wisconsin Point.
On the dark side of the workhouse at sunset, you can almost see where the walls used to be. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
Another perfect Indianan sunset alights like a bird on the tops of the vent houses and tree-packed smokestacks.
Looking toward the old power house, right below one of its arteries.
The Eureka Mill, historically known as Sunnyside Mill, is now the gateway to Animas Forks.
This is what the mine shops look like from the road between Gaastra, MI and Rogers Location (formerly Bates, MI). The community was renamed for the mine, probably under the heavy influence of M.A. Hanna.
Looking out at the town water tower (which I love) from the sugar mill (which I also love).
The parking lot is in better condition than most of the complex. The left building is the lab.
A great lakes freighter slowly passes SK Wheat Pool 4 with ‘The Sleeping Giant’ in the background. Arista 100.
A cracked sign at dock-level, where loading boats would be tied below the taconite conveyors. All across the surface of the concrete dock were taconite pellets, like slippery little marbles. One wrong step could put a worker in the water, which is a bad, bad place to be.
The laundry building, where many of the tunnels came to an end. It looks very East Coast industrial to me.
The sun sets in front of a huge concrete building—about four times the size of the power plant. Probably a corn storage bin from an ethanol operation that ran here in the 1980s.
Standing on a caustic tank with my head out a roof hatch, I look at the sign of the last brand to be produced here.
One of the covered rail loading docks. All of them were overgrown and rust-clad.
Because of the dangers of storing the materials to make explosives as well as the explosives themselves, there were earthen bunkers all across the plant like this.
Different doors for different vehicles, I would guess. White Pine Mine used tire-based vehicles, rather than track-based, making it pretty different than other mines I’ve been to.
The hospital featured a farm that once helped to sustain it. This is one of the few remaining signs of those years, near the Nurse’s Cottage.
“To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,
One clover, and a bee,
The revery alone will do,
If bees are few.”
― Emily Dickinson
The back of the castle is barely visible through the trees that have grown thick around the walls, making it look so much older.
The spectacular, if precarious, view of downtown Minneapolis from the roof of ADM Annex 4. Note the great messages left by various graffiti artists who made it to the spot.
Van Dyke Cab Company and Yellow Cab served the terminal in lieu of a streetcar loop downtown, which was planned but never built.
A switch for the yard engines, now on the edge of the property where nobody will find it.
The gulls wait to eat the next load of spilled grain. Arista 100.
The valley is full of rocky peaks that stand out from the winding creeks, which only truly run after storms. It is a very beautiful place.
Heavy industrial looks good in cotton candy pink.
One of the last times I saw the skyway standing. ADM’s Meal Elevator is in the distance.
Two versions of Detroit. One where buildings stand tall and proud, and one where they wilt under the sun. It’s an amazing juxtaposition.
This big rusty sphere hides behind the incomplete 5-stack.
The crane on Dock 2, as seen from Dock 4 right after sunset. Notice the old light tower is warped.
Looking through the loading platform of Frontenac Mine toward Black Hawk. In 1900, you would see Druid Mine on the left and Aduddell on the right.
The perimeter fence still holds strong, 50 years after it was put up.
One of my favorite images from my stay… Note the snowed-over road in the distance! This is looking toward Animas Forks.
Looking at the tallest part of the plant from a skeletal loading dock. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
No, it’s not your Mac’s desktop, it’s a beautiful Lake Superior night. Taken from near the former Pittsburgh and Reading Anthracite Plant. You can see the frame that used to hold the lifeboat that was auctioned in 2006 to the left of the Pilot House.
A tower above Minneapolis that few people see.
The truck scale is closed at Lena, MB.
Grain is taken from the bottom of the silos through a conveyor in a tunnel. These blowers keep the air in the tunnel fresh.
The exterior of the factory is unassuming
The Algosteel crew strikes a pose while heading through Superior Entry toward Allouez
I was squatting overnight in one of the buildings and woke up with the sunrise. This is what I woke up to.
Short-stack remains of mounts for rod and ball mills, if I was to bet. The concentrator separated junk rock (tails) from the copper and silver ore, to such a point it could be smelted.
Through a section of the tailings boom where mountain winds tore open the sheet metal around the conveyor, I poked my head out.
In the corner of the former school grounds…
The Brown Hotel still stands, but has recently gone out of business again. One of the nice things about historic buildings in New Mexico, though, is things tend to stay around a lot longer than if they were subjected to lots of rain and snow. It will probably be reopened eventually.
During the Cold War, the Air Force used the radar station to train bombardiers in radar-guided ordinance.
The copula stacks were fitted with scrubbers. Making metal is a very polluting activity.
It is unclear when the ‘Superior Warehouse Company’ sign was put up, but it was likely around 1916-1917, when maps indicate it served as a dry goods warehouse, operated by Twohy-Eimon Mercantile Company. The Sivertson sign was likely added in the mid-1980s. In this image I tried to preserve the colors the bricks turn at sunset.
This bridge over Eagle River is beautiful.
The roof had structures bigger than most buildings in South Bend.
Delmar #4 is like two elevators in one, in capacity and design.
The Algosteel navigating Superior Entry.
This heavy door opens directly into the missile vault and was used to load and unload the missile erector.
Some of the ruins are way off the beaten path… foundations of tank stands and pillars of buildings that never had walls or roofs.
The four buildings seen here comprise almost all of the notable remaining structures.
Sidewalks to a boarded barracks, each making the other obsolete in the night.
There is a flipped tram car about a third of the way down the cliff.
Old boathouses near the dock.
A broken signal light that would indicate to incoming engineers and brakemen the status of the dock deck. The streetlight-style lighting is a retrofit; originally the top of the dock would be lit by strings of lights suspended by towers on each side of the deck… a poor system according to the workers at Allouez who had the same lights.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve been getting reports that several Yellow Helicopters have been seen hovering above town. We are all aware of the Black Helicopters, which are World Government, and Blue Helicopters, which are Secret Police, and the Helicopters with Detailed Murals of Diving Birds of Prey, which are the helicopters that took all the children in Night Vale away a few months ago (we still don’t know what those helicopters are but they did bring all the children back unharmed, and much more well-behaved than before, so they are deemed just as safe as the other helicopters) but these new Yellow Helicopters, no one quite knows.” – Welcome to Night Vale, Ep. 32
From Main Street, looking straight up at the A Mill, only the silence makes one think that nobody’s still inside, grinding grain into Pillsbury’s Best.
Counter-weighted ore cars alternately filled and emptied to feed Furnace 7. Honestly, though, the corner-mounted cranes are sexier in my opinion. Note the trees growing from the stacks.
A nice view of the aurora borealis (“Northern Lights”) strong enough to outshine the industrial lighting at the power plant. The lights in the foreground direct ships discharging coal for the station.
The hike to the village is steep. This is looking into the valley from the halfway point.
Before the clouds broke, I snapped this profile of the dumping control room and its spiral staircase. These are the colors that I dream in.
The front of the mill reads “Montana Flour Mills Company”
The Barker turning around before it backed into Tac Harbor to unload coal for Minnesota Power.
Peering at Stelco’s abandoned steel rod rolling mill, not demolished. The rectangular on the right in between is the boiler house that heated Stelco.
The complex was so big that trains could make deliveries through the middle of it, passing below this striped skyway.
Looking across the spired rooftop of the Kirkbride building. In the foreground is a fire chute that contains a metal spiral slide designed to evacuate patients in case of a fire. Note the ironwork on the chimney.
A single cloud makes its way to Buffington Harbor and Lake Michigan from the quiet backroads of the plant.
Looking from abandoned to active. The end of Dock 6 often has a crane and some shacks on it, as the chutes aren’t used anymore. Instead, conveyors are installed on the land-side of the dock that fill docked vessels, making the end of the dock little more than a breakwater and a place to park repair and recovery equipment.
Gopher Ordnance Works, aka the U-Lands, is a landscape where roots and boughs break apart concrete and steel.
The BOMARC launch buildings are spaced on a large concrete pad that looks like a parking lot. Out of view are underground pipes for fueling and cooling the rocket motors.
Looking from the rail shipping building through pigeon-proofing chicken wire at another manufacturing building in high Fall.
Looking out across the elevator row from Portland Huron’s roof. Don’t you love the color of the sky?
The pitch of the roof is more typical for areas with lots of snow—not the border of Ohio and Kentucky. So, I assume this roofline accommodated some equipment inside for trains—note the tracks.
A rusting disconnect gangway. The smokestack is for a boiler, if I recall.
Soft rain on Vulcan’s ashy pyre… Both of these peaks are dead volcanos, too hard to be totally washed away by storms. As a result, they seem to rise dramatically from the flat valley.
Not a wisp of smoke can be seen today.
A buck-fifty shot for a postcard stand. Taken from the Stone Arch Bridge.
Some of the earlier buildings were dressed up with brick facades.
This building was an office and lounge for engineers. It is also demolished.
A wide view of the poor house. Look at the smokestack and elevator shaft, which show the former roofline.
The flour mill (rear) and its elevators. The taller elevator was moved here in 1955, when the Harrisons bought it from Federal, who declared it surplus. The smaller elevator replaced an earlier smaller warehouse in 1926. Taken shortly after dawn. This one picture made the drive worth it, for me. Medium Format.
One of my favorite night views of Fort Snelling’s so-called Upper Post, taken between snowstorms.
A tram that once linked the Sunnyside Mine to the mill in Eureka has been reduced to a single cable. Nearby, an open adit drips water into a tributary of the Animas River.
After a short rainfall douses the mill in downtown Fergus Falls, the river next to the brick walls swells and the sounds of water overtakes the echos of the nearby bars. Reflections are on the foundation of the former distribution and rail building.
A sizable crane on the corner of the engine house still swings out.
Demolition about 50% complete.
Near the guard post protecting the launch pad at the Duluth BOMARC is an orange windsock.
Showering red-hot coke fresh from the furnaces near the Coal Tower (in the back) was the Quenching Tower’s duty (front).
A facade that tells the story of demolition and neglect. The sign on the garage door indicates that if one finds themselves there, that they enter the buildings at their own risk. If only property owners in the US took this philosophy!
From a distance (here, Union Yards), you can still see ARMOUR spelled out on the smokestack in white brick.
Before Portland-Huron Cement’s Duluth Plant was (mostly) demolished and (partly) turned into a hotel, the top of its silos gave a cinematic view of elevator row.
A US Army Corps of Engineers tug, tied at the end of the pier before the American Victory was parked here.
Don’t you love the shape of the house on the right?
A squat building with a rail scale. Taken between rain showers in late summer, when I seemed to be the only one at White Pine.
Minnesota Power’s Taconite Harbor power station, as seen through the ship loading control room windows.
This old Jetta did more offroading than your average lifted tinted loud-exhaust pickup.
The command building and a coolant tank. In the distance, rain and hail pound Wyoming dirt.
The ghost town of Lauder, Manitoba. It’s seen better days, but I bet the TV reception on the flatlands is great.
2013. As part of the Head House’s facelift, it’s gotten new windows. However, you can now still see where the conveyor-way connected this building with the elevators behind it in the upper right of the image.
A little cloud passes over the Five-Stack powerplant ruins, like a puff of smoke.
Street lights and pavement are some of the obvious signs a town used to be here.
The moon highlights the contrails over the engine house in the middle of the night. Foreground light painted.
Pillars among trees… those who inherit the earth will be so confused.
A huge steel tank, one of several left over, left over from either the Ashland Oil or Allied Chemical periods.
“Against the blue sky, its rusting central silos look like rising smoke meeting the last minutes of a sunset. These give way to a corrugated night sky of blue gray, punched-through with staggered four-pane windows, all glassless.”
…a better view of the huge tailings boom stretching outside of the tailings pond.
The Osborn Block (front) and the Twohy (rear) at sunset. In the distance, you can almost make out Globe Elevators. One of my favorite photos of 2013.
A panoramic view of the sintering plant’s gas plant (?). Everyone who visits must get a picture of these rusty smokestacks!