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.
For 20 years, this served as the public library. According to blogger, this has been moved to Springer.
A gate large enough to accommodate a missile, next to the ruins of the guard shack. Wyoming is the intersection of lonely and beautiful.
A look at the Longmont Sugar Mill in May 2014.
Typical New Mexico ranch fencing. The power lines follow the rails between Springer and Wagon Mound.
Timbers overlap where mine cars plunged, a strange wooden fence traced the center of the beams.
Outbuildings near the perimeter fence. Beyond is all ranch land.
The fences helped discourage patients from throwing themselves down the stairs.
A shot of Longmont from the highway. Fuji 35mm.
Wind-battered catwalk lights between the shaft house and headframe/rockhouse building.
A guard to keep sawdust from the water fountain.
This old Jetta did more offroading than your average lifted tinted loud-exhaust pickup.
The whole smelter ran on gravity… elevating the various raw materials and working with them until at the bottom of the furnace, copper poured out.
The hoist room, before it was used for storage.
“Man has set for himself the goal of conquering the world but in the processes loses his soul.” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, Russian writer and historian.
A hydraulic ‘bridge’ couple lower onto the tracks to bring mine cars into the shaft house, presumably for repair. I haven’t found this system anywhere else, but it makes a lot of sense.
The back door into the old distillery building. Not castle-like at all, sadly.
A yellow house above the mineshaft.
Looking from the rail shipping building through pigeon-proofing chicken wire at another manufacturing building in high Fall.
Two roads; the left one you can walk down, but you have to answer questions when people ask. The right one–you don’t want to be found on that one.
The ruins of the the Hubert Mine over the ruins of Nevadaville. Its ore was taken through the town to a mill below it.
Ammunition had to be tested on site before shipment. That was done here. These heavy concrete bunkers deflected rounds harmlessly into the earth.
As my friend Jonathan would say, “on a human scale.”
This view of BCT shows the portico where the main entrance is at the base of the office tower, and the clock.
The vines are thick across the asylum.
Looking past the Osborn along the side of the Hughitt Slip, where there have always been grain elevators for more than 100 years.
Near the guard post protecting the launch pad at the Duluth BOMARC is an orange windsock.
The powerhouse had two elevated tracks behind it, one for coal and one for deliveries.
One thing that struck me as a midwesterner in the South was the vines. They seem to be able to completely cover a building when left alone for a few decades.
When I saw this section, I knew the dock was abandoned.
The depot at the head of town seems to be being disassembled. Behind it is a dead signal where the tracks used to be; they’ve been pulled.
Fake Fact: The term ‘stovetop hat’ was coined by Island Station’s architect while trying to explain why he wanted to put the steel chimney on the station. ‘Live Here’ was part of the advertising when the building was host to artist lofts. They weren’t kidding.
The front of the mill reads “Montana Flour Mills Company”
The EPA has been doing work on and off over the past few years, digging up the foundations of the demolished steel mill to clean up the site.
A light-painted portrait of one of the few remaining carts that moved everything from fresh eggs to soiled laundry through the tunnels.
Milwaukee Road’s second substation at Loweth, as seen from the highway. Somewhat ironically, a new electrical substation is across the street from it today.In the background, you can make out a collapsing storage shed and some of the grades.
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.
This is how the warehouse looks today.
I revisited the mill years after my documentary. Now it is even more destroyed and surrounded by new fences.
“Paint the fence,” they said, but I don’t feel like it… who cares, anyway.
The perimeter fence still holds strong, 50 years after it was put up.
An abandoned ranch on the east side of the tracks. This was not the Colmor Cutoff they were waiting for.
I found a meth lab in this building once. (Yes, I called it in.)
The rocket system used several cooling methods, once of which included an evaporation pond, pictured here.
Trees between duplexes overshadow the buildings they were planted to shield; revenge for the boards on the windows.
Some of the internal staircases were fitted with cages that wound round down the stairs to deter suicidal patients from taking a dive.
If it wasn’t for the humming and crackling of the wires, I could believe I had arrived to a post apocalyptic landscape.
Scanned after being recovered from the bottom of an old wooden box for a few years. Circa 2005.
The main street of the ghost town is also the maintenance road for the BNSF line that bisects Colmor.
The back of the mill reads “Red River Milling Company”
Scanned after being recovered from the bottom of an old wooden box for a few years. Circa 2005. The only photo I have showing the steam locomotive out front.
An experimental shaft dug in the 1950s and its Hoist House.
Is this a fence, or part of a bed frame?
Train-mounted snowplows pushed the snow through the fence and against the old offices.
The playground used to be near the school which is now in ruins.
Facade of tarps and fences on the old house. It used to have a bronze ornament on the second floor patio, but it was taken for scrap years ago.
One of a pair of poles to hold the electric lines for the streetcars entering and exiting the tunnel.
In this ghost town where there were brick, wooden, and dirt-brick buildings, the latter fared the best by far.
This building was an office and lounge for engineers. It is also demolished.