Everything is texture.
This spiral staircase isn’t doing Lemp much good–maybe they’ll let me have it! I do love, though, that there is a door going to it–without walls–and it ascends to a second floor that doesn’t exactly exist anymore.
Glowing observation windows–and someone forgot to lock a patient’s door…
Looking across the catwalk attache to the elevated control room, in charge of the train dumping part of the operation.
One of the storage bunkers was cracked open. I wonder how effective this heavy door would actually be… I expect, not very.
Typical bunk rooms in MS-20.
The incinerator’s hardened steel door… useless, but still sexy in a heavy-industrial kind of way.
The Blacksmith Shop (right) was connected to the Bunk House (left) via this narrow walkway. This is likely due to the fire risk in each building. The left building had a cooking stove and furnace for heat and the right building had a small industrial furnace to repair mining equipment. A little walkway would mean that a fire on one side would be easier to fight from the other.
The building collapsed except for the back room. The slats of the roof cast lines of light across the floor.
A corner of the addition is lined with glass cabinets, formerly filled with beds.
From the bottom of the skyway I looked back, my eyes tracing the vines from the marsh up the smokestacks to the perfect Midwestern sky.
Looking out at the abandoned neighborhood around the house.
The license plate reads “Farm Truck”.
The beacon was installed in 1938 and removed in the mid-2000s.
The large domed rooms were surreal.
A small stage in one of the barracks.
Beds line a basement room that is part way between the concepts of inside and outside. Boards and bricks were falling while I was photographing it—stay out.
Taken several years before the tornado story when the weather, and the condition of the buildings, were nice.
These tubes would bring cement to the top of the plant for storage in the silos.
On the second floor of the kettle building where corn mash was boiled, holes where tanks once sat were everywhere.
One of Martinsdale’s defunct businesses perpendicular to the depot. Recall that Martinsdale is a T-town.
The entrance to the area where staff could sleep.
Part of the unremodeled hospital, above the Service Building, where employees would stay sometimes.
After demolition in the mid 2000s, this interior door became exterior. I remember walking through the car shed as a teenager. It was a shortcut, if I didn’t get caught.
Vines are finding their way into the roundhouse.
The stone chapel sits beside the main house and received a particularly heavy dose of gothic architectural touches.
This ornamental stair is cast iron and used to connect all floors of the Administration building. Now it connects the first and second floor, then the third and fourth floors, with a strange cinder block and drywall barrier separating the new and old sections of the building. Note the insulation on the floor to seal heat into the lower floors that were used as offices until the hospital closed. On the corners of the staircase are lions, on the corners of the suspended section of stair are down-hanging pineapples. Set in the stairs themselves are shield motifs with slate tops.
The grain-centric buildings had automatic fire doors.
A dead work truck rusts near an outbuilding. Everything is marked with a code. Modernity.
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.
The substation has definite structural issues. Pictured is the sidewalk that connected the plant to the company housing.
Office manners dictate that one must tip their file drawer back upright once it is knocked through the wall.
Dr. Muchow’s offices stand near his ‘new’ mill, but they show evidence of vandalism.
Unloading boats had the option to take on fuel at Taconite Harbor. This building, among other things, pumped fuel to the dock.
The sluice room was surrounded in fine grating. The company would want to finely control when the doors would be opened so the gold could be removed under supervision. No yellow bonus for the working man…
Aaron by the concentrator.
Old parts catalogs litter the floor. The office overlooks empty shelves. Graffiti glue peeling paint in place.
A view of the hallway outside of the auditorium.
Beautiful doors separated the boiler room and the sugar mill. Can you imagine the gracefully curving steps in a power plant today?
The piano must have been a nice distraction; there is very little to do in Roberts.
These houses was built by hard rock miners in the early 1900s.
Looking toward Mitchell from its last building.
Dominion was acquired by UGG, which designated the elevator ‘M’. Their offices still have safety signage.
The wings of the church had a lot more water damage than the rest. The organ on the balcony was in decent condition when I arrived.
In the corner of most of the factory floors, freight elevators flanked restrooms to leave more central space for machines and their masters.
I am not sure, but I think this section was a storehouse; it has two ramps that connect the rail yard outside and the blacksmith shop. On all of the historic doors that face that part of the yard, signs caution workers to look out for cars…
The modern morgue, a replacement for the original morgue which has since been turned into a kitchen area.
One of the occupied buildings in Nevadaville.
Redlining is the practice of shutting certain races out of neighborhoods, and it is still a big problem today. Such behaviors were a big factor in creating the need for these projects.
In the many-windowed metal building, the lumberyard buildings and the abandoned starch works buildings are separated by a thick wall of pallets.
The office was redder than the rest of the building.
A side door for the shop area with ivy crawling toward it.
My favorite time to be in the brewery was sunrise. That’s the kind of light that made the brewhouse glow.
On the top floor of the former casket building is the finishing line for the coating section; on this section the final spray of plastic would hit the wood before a small furnace would seal the plastic permanently to the surface, making it more resilient, I assume.
Beautiful details in the plaster moulding have been preserved by the sheer height of this room between the cathedral and auditorium.
This “pit” would allow workers to crawl below locomotives to service them.
This building cleaned the barrels that transported ingredients through the plant.
Between the repair shops and the stock department is this odd little structure. No, the walls are not level–it’s not your eyes. The shops slope left, the structure slopes right.
This bedroom built for a tuberculosis patient has been converted into a safe room.
I love these heavy rolling doors in the old tobacco processing building.
The elevator tower seems to have been built with expansion of the dock in mind.
A common room with a big bay window that overlooked the main entrance of the hospital.
Inside the main entrance to the depot. Through the ‘To Station’ door, you can see some of the news stands. Look at the floor!
Sliding fireproof doors and an old hydrant at Harlowton’s old yards.
Heavy steel doors to isolate the underground magnetic separation mill from Eagle Mine’s main tunnel.
In the back of the warehouse is the old incinerator, probably used to destroy kegs that could not be reused.
The side of the church, taken from a grungy sidewalk.
This is the former air compressor house–one of them, at least–which turned steam power into air power to drive machinery across the production line.
Left: A medium storage chamber with access to an interconnecting steam tunnel at ceiling height. This room also has various smashed toilets. Why? Because dead toilets–all of them–always find a home in a cave. Center: Steps go past a +-intersection, left goes deeper, right goes to utility tunnels for the brewery, forward used to go to the brewery basement… it’s now backfilled. Left from the backfill is a small hallway; see ‘Backfill Self Portrait’. Center-Right: Utility tunnels tie knots between the brewery’s demolished basement and its caves. Right: Most of the storage volume is in large chambers down this causeway.
The shed in the front was full of worker supplies–namely goggles and heavy leather gloves. Molten copper isn’t a friendly thing to handle.
Easier-to-demolish parts of the power plant were torched apart. Catwalks to nowhere meant lots of dead ends.
“Place Tripod Here” my friends would say. But for me, it’s the money shot. Note the painting around the inside of the skylight.
A fallen branch smashed out this skylight years ago, and since then the bees have found this tiny toilet a perfect home. This is part of the hotel where employees slept.
An unplanned skylight. It’s unclear why some parts of the building had wooden roofing, while others were highly reinforced with brick.
What I make out to be the dining room or great hall of the castle, as seen through of the side rooms, which appeared to be a very ruined library. Teenager graffiti looks cooler in French.
Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7. The office (first floor), laboratory (second floor) and mill behind it. Everything was clean and pristine.
Part of an ongoing series on found American flags in shuttered factories.
The gauges on left of frame are the steam pressure indicators for the various steam-powered components around the ship, like the steering engine and windlass motors. Below the gauges are a case of tiny wooden parts drawers… note the ancient oiling can on the locker near the upper-right corner of the frame.
Looking into the engine works from the concrete addition.
Behind one of the kitchens is one of the few pieces of furniture remaining. Beside it, a small electric space heater–small by 1970s standards.
The blacksmith shop is pretty rugged looking. Through the door you can see the collapsed walkway that might have once connected to a building covering the Santiago Tunnel adit.
An elevator to bring big somethings into the basement, it seemed. Nearby were the plant firetrucks, still ready to go. I hope they were saved.
A view of the government presses, with pages of law across the floor covered in footprints.
The old men’s ward is an example of what the hospital resembled before part of the complex was modernized. Small rooms, light switches outside the door, small observation windows set into heavy wood. If you ask me, though, the tile work across the floors is the most spectacular.
Not ghosts. Slow-moving explorers’ shadows create a ghostly effect in the ‘Old Ward’–the second floor of the Service Building.
The side of the maintenance shops, still home to several disassembled electric carts.
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.
This building would store and maintain warheads. It was right next to the launch pad, but the two were separated by a high mound.
These racks lined many of the floors, although I couldn’t decipher their purpose. Tastes like duotone…
It’s pretty unusual to find a fireplace like this in the midst of a factory.
A big sliding fire door opens onto a train dock.
The top floor of the Meal Storage Elevator.
The old truck scale sits in the middle of what was Nettleton Avenue Slip.
In the ward for the criminally insane, this door was the most-worn. Nail scratches mark the area around the peep hole, the wood is gouged everywhere from thrown chairs and hard kicks, and a ominous blood-colored stain is visible where it dripped in the second inset from the bottom. Aside from the damage, the coloring in this section was very vibrant, though it was probably little reprieve for those who had to work here.
What you see is not a crack in the floor, but a long vine extending ten feet onto the shop floor, as if reaching in to escape the wind and rain.
The nurse’s station on this floor, a ward still in its original design, featured a half-door where patients could get their medicine. Portra 160.
Like many mill-style buildings of the time, the Twohy’s loading doors (in this case, the delivery wagon doors) opened to an elevator shaft. This design cut down on loading time, as long as the elevator was operational. Of course, if it was otherwise occupied, there could be no traffic through the exterior doors!
The floor in this building (now demolished) was very rotten. This picture was taken through a window from very firm ground.
Devan setting up his 4×5 camera.
Call me angsty, but I like it. Found in the Auxiliary Hospital.
Miners would sit in this room before going into the mine. The boards on the right indicated whether every single miner was “in” or “out”.
Miscellaneous math and strange instructions remain all across the shipment section walls. Sadly, this section likely fell into disrepair before the others.
From the 1909 addition, it’s obvious how much water it takes to carry a single wall to, into and through the cracks between the floor tiles: exactly one roof’s worth.
Stairs and power lines enter the abandoned depot. Shingles slide off the rotten roof. Ektar 100/Mamiya 6
On the extended engine bay…
An interesting crane in the back of the machine shop. It seems very light duty, so I am not certain what it was used for.
Gaskets still organized on nails beside the power plant. This used to be a maintenance room, but since its roof and walls were torn down, it’s not any kind of room.
I believe this is the push car, meaning it would push the charge in the oven out the opposite side into the train car.
In most places, it may seem off for there to be a tunnel door on the top floor of a building, but Ford was that kind of place. This door from the steam plant led into a skyway and tunnel that connected to the main assembly floor.
A storage vault for guns and other weapons to protect the base from attack.
When I first visited the chapel, it had a projection TV, two organs, Bibles, and more. Now these are mostly ruined, except for the tapestries, which have somehow survived.
The doorframes become more askew every year as the buildings slip downward into the gulch at different rates. This seems to be the part of the mine ruins where transients leave their marks. The graffiti dated back to the 1970s, at least.
Rocket propellant and coolant were stored underground adjacent to the missile silo. This is the hallway that connects the missile area to the propellant area. Walking in this area was nice because the floor was dry.
The west portal of the tunnel is open, and if it wasn’t for the rough track, I would think by looking at it that a train could be coasting up behind me any moment. Mamiya 6/Portra 160
The individual ovens are skinny to allow even and fast heating of the whole interior. Numbers are cut into signs because no paint could withstand the heat or corrosive emissions from the coking process.
Perhaps this office was for a film studio or music producer.
The third floor corridor is not so welcoming, as it requires visitors to walk along the support breams without the luxury of a floor. I didn’t mind, but I can’t see the family with young children that was also exploring Noisy doing the same.
The mostly-empty distilling room is easy to spot from the outside because of the distinctive round window.
A blue chair in a blue room
The front door to the auditorium.
When I moved from the roof back into the upper floors of the distillery, the plants growing out of the masonry caught my eye. It’s 60 feet up, but looks like it could be an old wall.
A side door on the rear of the castle that let guests out into a small stone courtyard below a tall turret.
2016. A section of the third floor that has changed a lot over the years. Compare to 2006 shot.
A typical room in Birtle.
The offices for the Five Roses elevator have long been boarded. To the left you can see the Manitoba Pool Elevator slogan, “Service at Cost”, meaning they would not make profit off farmers and dues.
Kat’s pretty cool.
A bumper sticker with the usual tagline. Note the detail on the radiator!
The cold air collided with the sun-warmed water on the floor, filling the ground floor of the Keg House with thick fog…
Outside the locker room without the sandwiches and beer… plenty of glass shards, though, if you feel like it.
The stonework was done by a local handyman of sorts, who was also a guard at a nearby insane asylum. He did a great job, it seems to me.
Taken on a short trip where the whole floor of the roundhouse and engine shop was covered in fresh snow–thanks to the holes in the roof and open windows.
The steam plant at Nopeming is an iconic (and crooked) smokestack. Kodak Pro 400 on a Fuji GX680.
The moon highlights the contrails over the engine house in the middle of the night. Foreground light painted.
Note the wood and rubber wheels on this powder cart.
I wanted to see the third floor to get a better view, but the third floor had already been demolished. The old walls had cascaded down the staircases. This building is gone, now, as you can expect.
An ajar car elevator car afar, technically.
The sidewalks are littered with rocks.
The big door at the bottom of the concentrator was where a tram once connected to lower the (pre-) processed ore into the river valley, where the railroad was. It’s unclear whether this ever connected directly to Eureka’s Sunnyside mill, although it’s possible.
These stairs lead to the balcony.
A heavy steel rail door to help funnel explosions upward, rather than outward.
Numbers on a pillar counted tank capacity for a removed water container; an unhinged door in an unhinged factory beguiles those looking for an exit.
Jef throws open the back door of an alley for the trailing photographers and historians.
The portal facing Taconite Harbor (at a healthy distance) is mostly closed. Some kids put bullet holes in it. Shooting down a long tunnel is extremely dangerous, and you should not do it, obviously. Mamiya 6/Portra 160
Heavy wood doors for keeping people in.
The truck scale is closed at Lena, MB.
The roof could be vented when locomotives were running inside.
The first floor hallway between conference rooms and the diesel lab at the center of the facility
This was a living space for the keepers during storms, when it was too dangerous to return to the houses on the point.
Lost words over the auditorium entrance.
And I forget just why I taste / Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile / I found it hard, it’s hard to find / Oh well, whatever, never mind (Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”)
A few of the stalls in the older section of the roundhouse, the noon sky peeking in.
The top floor of the Chateau was the original surgical suite. Later, hydrotherapy took place here. When Nopeming was converted to a nursing home, it was a place where residents watched movies. Portra 400 on Voigtlander Bessa.
A sheik mustard-yellow paint scheme across the roofless engine house goes great with the industrial moss and rust.
The factory’s first aid room and laboratory. Sure makes me wonder how safe the lab was!
Expanding foam provides some textural contrast to the wood floors, worn smooth over a century. This building dates to the 1890s and was built as the coffin plant.
Here, the concentrated gold (and silver, and zinc, I would guess) would be loaded into trucks bound for the smelter.
2013. A perfect summer day meets a beautiful old roundhouse on the edge of town.
As my friend Jonathan would say, “on a human scale.”
Note the pit is filled in here.
Paperwork litters the floors of the zinc mine offices.
The historical entrance.
A bathroom in the rear of the ballroom that overlooks the Rose Garden.
David Aho pictured.
Hunter and the Hoist House.
The pits have long since been filled so the roundhouse could be used for storage.
In this section of the Men’s Ward, sealed by brick from lower floors, the room doors had messages painted in their inside–some motivational, some not. I would be interested to hear if anyone knows the backstory of this section. Lighting is natural; it was just after sunset.
A small bunker and blast wall between shell-loading buildings would have provided shelter during disasters, such as tornados, accidental explosions, and perhaps even enemy attacks.
Looking through a secure ward door at the destroyed rooms beyond.
A portrait of the second school of McConnell, built in 1937.
A high-ceilinged room where kegs would be delivered for cleaning, before they were refilled with fresh booze.
This used to be one of the office doors, but it’s been removed (apparently without malcontent) and placed in the shop area.
The view into one of the asylum rooms of Norwich Hospital. A long time ago, a window broke, letting the vines crawling up the bricks outside to move indoors and across the floor.
One of the cupola air intakes, rattled loose by the demolition downstairs, hangs stranded on the second floor. You can see that the floor I’m standing on in this picture used to extend all the way to the right wall. The blue paint on the wall made the climb absolutely worth it.
Some of the internal staircases were fitted with cages that wound round down the stairs to deter suicidal patients from taking a dive.
Standing where the Standard Oil’s boiler used to sit; the coal room is on the right, and would have been filled from trackside.
One of the few doors.
Pozo Mine, the most menacing mine building I’ve ever seen. Black and white film, shot with the Fuji GX680, a beast of a camera.
Originally, this part of the dock was reserved for the weather station.
A heavy steel security door, taken right off its hinges. This was likely installed after Grafton State School took over the hospital.
A storm passes over BOMARC’s center row of launch buildings. You can clearly see the tracks on which the roof would retract for launch.
Gary Methodist was a filmset for Transformers 3 in 2010.
A wimpy crane by most standards, only suitable for moving around parts of steam turbines.
No ambiguity here… miners, check in at this office.
A pink room with very heavy doors that reminds me of the rooms at some of the insane asylums that I’ve explored.
Why the door had to be moved over 2 1/2 feet will remain a mystery.
Almost all of the doors and windows on the ground floor have been boarded, leaving the ground level very dark.
Safety signs decorated every floor, machine and, yes, door. This message spoke to me for reasons my coworkers will understand; suffice to say, I need to take this message to heart.
A colorful boiler is a happy boiler! RotoGrate systems remove ashes from the boiler firebox by revolving the bottom of the system to let the fly ash drop into a hopper. This greatly increases boiler efficiency.
“Man has set for himself the goal of conquering the world but in the processes loses his soul.” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Russian writer and historian.
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
The end of one of the scrapped turbines. Judging by the aborted attempt at cutting it in half, the scrappers had some trouble with this one.
This is what I believe to be the Masonic Cottage, where infected Freemasons would be treated together and enjoy some simple luxuries because of their social connections. Freemasonry is still popular in North Dakota.
The last time the city sealed this door, they must have been changing out old road signs.
A photo from my first trip, although very little has changed in this area of the building except for the level of graffiti. I love skylights, don’t you?
A steel powder keg serves as a door prop on the static-proof wood core floor. Note the ‘XXX’ marking to the left of the double door.
Looking to the chapel addition from the Chateau.
Looking into the main workhouse from the skyway into the annex elevator. But who care? Look at the colors!
While the maps name this the compressor house, I believe, based on its size and number of heavy machine mounts, that it also housed the pumps to drain the mine.