The rumors were true. Success is sweet.
Where the drain changes shape from round concrete to arched brick.
A self portrait.
In the power house corner is this gratuitously gigantic doorway. It used to be even bigger, too, as indicated by the brick arch another foot over the top windows.
Would you wait and risk getting flooded out, or intentionally get minor burns?
Taken in a closet in the middle of the demolished coke ovens. No doubt, these charts were for equipment in the ovens.
A self portrait on a tire swing outside the Service Building.
The north side of the plant is modern 60s industrial architecture, meaning massive open spaces with no personality. This mirror is the most interesting thing I could find.
“But everyone I used to know was either dead or in prison
So I came back to Minneapolis this time I think I’m gonna stay” -Tom Waits
I get dirty.
One of my favorite pictures of the tunnel. I am holding a bike rim and wearing a headlamp. My friend triggered the flash just behind my lower back. The fog is a temperature inversion at the entrance of the tunnel; it was 102 degrees outside of the tunnel and about 50 degrees inside, and humid.
Partier graffiti dates to when the caves were last open to the public; probably in the 1990s. This tunnel used to horseshoe between the brewery’s ice chute (left) and basement door (right, backfilled). Note the utility tunnel in the upper-right corner as well as the lighting brackets on the ceiling.
A natural stone floor in Brewery Creek’s upper path has been worn smooth.
A self portrait, from the early 2000s.
A long tunnel stretches toward the Mississippi. Was this the route Model Ts took on their way to waiting barges?
Miller Creek, in one of the wider sections that features a trout (as in the fish) canal in the middle of the drain. Even though it is underground, the fish are able to visit their breeding ponds upstream by swimming through the specially designed tunnel.
As my friend Jonathan would say, “on a human scale.”
My first night on Minneapolis’ Lighthouse–now an old picture and distant memory… I still remember the exhilaration and the view of the city off one edge of the roof and the Mississippi River over the other.
At an abandoned train repair shop.
Standing on the fence barricade that used to keep squatters out of the tunnel, the size of the space is impressive. What you see here is the current length of the tunnel; I set up a flashlight at the end to illuminate the concrete wall that is the lower portal.
Heavy steel doors to isolate the underground magnetic separation mill from Eagle Mine’s main tunnel.