The ghost town of Lauder, Manitoba. It’s seen better days, but I bet the TV reception on the flatlands is great.
When the dock across the slip loads, the lighting below the otherwise dark ‘5’ can get a little wild.
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.
Shadows of the timberwork and cribbing are cast across cracked lake ice. My footprints follow cat tracks.
Exploring Dock 4 was a very different experience, since it was almost all metal.
Like a grave marker, a single post remembers where Dock 3 stood on the bay.
We people are so small.
An old name for an older elevator, as seen from an abandoned rail spur.
Both portals get clogged with ice in the winter. In the summer, the ceiling is always dripping. Mamiya GA645 / Kodak Pro 400
From the highest roof of Ogvilvie’s, Thunder Bay looks like paradise.
Pointing a light at my camera from down Miller Creek Drain. Do you see the scale of it? It’s huge!
A diesel crane and conveyor belt tripper are the major pieces of equipment that dominate the dock.
The east portal, looking toward Nopeming Junction and away from the US Steel ruins and Duluth’s ore docks.
Looking out of the elevators. Canada Malting, Vitera A and Vitera B in the background.
Negative twenty looks much warmer in retrospect, wouldn’t you say? Taken through the window of a gantry crane cab.
A broken roof drain turned the fourth floor into a skating rink. Frost covers every surface. Kodak Portra 400 in Voigtlander Bessa.
A morning breeze pushes the last ice from the lake against Wisconsin Point.
This was my first view of Harris Machinery’s property… it was strange to find what looked like a ghost town five minutes from downtown Minneapolis!
One of my favorite night views of Fort Snelling’s so-called Upper Post, taken between snowstorms.
Snow flies across the frame as the sunken cribbing freezes bellow the concrete.
The light masts are there, but it looks like the cables that stretched across the dock with the actual lights have fallen down.
Quincy Smelter, 2014.
As wind and currents moved the ice around between the ore docks, the sounds of crunching echoed through the otherwise quiet bar.
The ice around the dock, compressed by the waves, was less clear than the open ice.
Camera: Voigtlander Bessa
Film: Acros 100
Science Alert. When the sun strikes an object, that object absorbs some of the infared light in the form of heat. The heat absorbed by the old Soo dock absorbed and radiated that energy to melt off the snow from the ice around it, making it very reflective.
Near Isabella, MB, frozen flooded fields expand to the horizon. Taken on a Voigtlander 25mm f/2.5 if you were wondering.
Freezing groundwater in the drain has created this ice wall in Buckingham Creek Drain, which is nearly all blasted natural stone. Lit with several LED panels. It was a cold night.
2005. Looking across the Mississippi from a park the night after the first snow.
Standing on the ruins of the former sister dock, looking back at the soon-to-be-demolished family member. The pilings I stood on for the shot were those of the Chicago and North Western RR #3 which was dismantled in 1960 and used to be 2,040-feet long.
This is the building where the corn mash would be boiled in stainless steel kettles, now gone.
As a storm moves across Lake Superior toward Duluth, an ore freighter anchors behind the Superior light station.
For years, the Ford was docked next to the former Pennsylvania and Reading Railroad anthracite coal dock.
Looking out of the top of the grain tower at Duluth.
This sea leg was installed to unload grain boats. It’s pretty much a big bucket elevator that can be moved and lowered into waiting boats.
Reflections of graffiti during spring melt.
The same view in 2007.
Superior, WI, some have said, is a suburb of Duluth, MN. It’s more like a sub-suburb, I would argue. It’s the industrial district that is technically in another state, one that sells beer on Sundays. Perspective is looking out of the mostly-disassembled larger (newer) elevator.
Peering out of the porthole of the light tower, I saw the shadow of the station on the lake.
Storms and waves, focused by the Port of Wisconsin entry have focused the faces to tear-up these boards below.
Looking out the second-floor lighthouse office window. On this visit, the last ice of the season was slowly drifting into the harbor.
As photographed from a cement piling for Slip #3 poured in 1935, disconnected from land by erosion. How do I know the date? A pair of steamship engineers carved their initials and ranks into the wet cement!
Harris Machinery rests under snow on the left. Two explorers enjoy the view.
It was a strange choice, although I appreciate it, for the firm reusing the shops to brick up the doorways while leaving the doors.
Winter skies over Allouez Bay. From a distance, it looks almost fragile.
Taken from atop a grain train at the end of Cargill B-2, looking toward Lake Superior “I”, now part of the sample complex. This area used to have another slip, but Cargill filled it on when it built the elevator on the right.