Ryan, as seen from the crane ladder.
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.
Under the monster and its teeth.
One of my favorite shots of the headhouse at the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool #4, with one seagull threading the needle. The socket holes on the frame got blown out thanks to my bad developing, but I like the effect. Arista 100.
Looking up from the industrial courtyard.
A natural stone floor in Brewery Creek’s upper path has been worn smooth.
Some parts of the doctor’s apartment in the Administration Tower were decidedly upscale. Look at the beautiful ironwork on that sink!
One of my favorite visual feature of grain elevators, especially big ones, is how they repeat.
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
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.
Looking into the main workhouse from the skyway into the annex elevator. But who care? Look at the colors!
Gold, which has a relatively high mass, would drop through the slats of the sluice boxes as the water flowed over them. Around the dredge were a half dozen radiator pipes to keep the water flowing through the machines.
Island Station, in the middle of the power house, in the middle of a thunder storm. Flapping pipe covers and sheets of ran penetrating one massive arched window and blasting through the other, as winds power through the building from the Mississippi. The sound of the thunder made every length of steel squeak under the pressure.
There were three main stockhouses, two of which still exist, that are filled with tanks like these in addition to Fermentation. Each tank is the size of the city bus and few are left after the 2008-2009 scrapings.
Looking down the kiln line from atop the furnaces.
The Comm Room’s portals once supported many more conduits.
The bricks routinely fell from the walls, like seeds falling from trees. On a smaller scale, new walls grew from the floors.
Chester Creek, where it was forced to dip below the circa-1970s I-35 tunnels.
Watch your head, say the colors. This side of the plant is apparently still standing and is owned by the city.
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!
ADM-Delmar #1- Maintainance Department. The stainless steel bits are part of the grain dryer added in the 1940s. The workhouse itself (the larger tower) was a dedicated Cleaning House, meaning that grain passed through both these buildings to be rid of dust, dirt and extra moisture before storage. In the foreground is the old ADM locker room and pipe department.
Looking into the tunnel system from below the Women’s Ward. The tunnels were used mostly by staff to move food and laundry.
This picture tells half the story about the size of half of the complex. For Port Arthur, it’s average, but this would be a fantastically large elevator if it were anywhere else!
The end of the new elevator. Line of bird droppings follow the fire sprinkler pipes and wires in the room.
On the second floor of the kettle building where corn mash was boiled, holes where tanks once sat were everywhere.
The generator hall of the last power station, as seen from the gantryway.
Heavy steel doors to isolate the underground magnetic separation mill from Eagle Mine’s main tunnel.
At noon, the lower skylights around the shops glow yellow-green, thanks to the flora blooming on the roof above.
The elevator works on gravity… this is where a conveyor belt was to move the grain toward the main elevator to be loaded into ships.
There are so many pipes i the factory–I wonder how many people knew where they all went, in the days these machines operated at capacity.
This picture is lit by a direct lightning strike of the building. It’s impossible to describe the feeling of being in this giant open building the moment it channeled an electric explosion into the earth.
The metallic arms of the missile erector, which would stand rockets over the blast pit in the launch position. Medium Format film–cheap but excellent Fomapan 100 in a Pentax 67.
Chutes from a hundred machines interconnect to more machines and chutes on a dozen factory floors.
On the middle level of the Poacher House. For a detailed view of the chart see ‘See Reverse’.
A typical large mine tunnel. You can just make out the narrow gauge rail.
One of a few dozen steel bed frames left in the rubble of the collapsing building.
The Engine House’s boiler, which would have been fired all day all day, virtually from the day the shop opened until the day it closed.
While the stokers are gone, the pipes bringing pulverized coal down were left.
This picture shows the challenges of moving around underground in the base.
The middle section of the smokestacks were coal hoppers, and this device would load the coal into the hoppers from the conveyor belt it rode across. The bottom section of the stacks were storage rooms while the very top were, surprise, chimneys for the power plant.
Some warnings on the older battery which was visibly older than its eastern counterpart. This set of batteries had no railing between the side of the ovens and a long drop onto railroad tracks… I like this picture because it shows the effects of the heat and corrosive gasses on the area around the ovens.
The first step of the filtering process is being spun through this tube.
A caustic tank in one of the unremodeled brewhouse backrooms.
Chutes connect the bottoms of the silos to a conveyor belt.
The power plant of the Old Crow distillery was mostly original. I didn’t have a tripod, so I had to balance my camera on the equipment there.
The east side of the boiler shop sported a platform with a control booth and heavy machine mounts. Note the door that replaces the lower section of stairs for explorers.
When boiling beet juice accidentally spills from the gas-fired tanks two feet away, you better be wearing some of these, or bye-bye legs.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
Looking up from the ground floor at the various levels of the sugar mill.
The boiler room has four big boilers in it, which seems like overkill. No wonder this plant could supply power to the works and the town at full capacity!
The factory was utterly vertical.
The sound of water running in the distance.
Shadows of the skylights form a backdrop for rust-welded machines.
A winding flue between the ovens for Furnace 6, capped with sketchy catwalks.
To run new gutters through the building, some of the plaster walls of the Chateau had to be smashed through.
Much of the circa-1950s buildings remain with few alterations, such as these long boring sheet metal ruststicks.
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.
Some small candles light one of the few surviving tunnels that once linked buildings on the campus with the steam plant. In winter, it was common for patients to be transported through these to avoid the cold, and during the Cold War these served as nuclear fallout shelters.
SWP4-A on the left and Viterra C on the right in a 90-degree panorama.
The only way to get to the second floor–since demolition crews punched-out the staircases and ladders leading upwards–was to climb this elevator shaft. In the lower-left corner is a blower for the foundry furnaces.
Tunnels interconnected all of the complex, carrying power, steam, laundry and food throughout the hospital. This is a typical causeway that would have been very busy when the hospital was operating. In some places, signs still point to defunct areas of the hospital.
A porcelain basin in the locker room is detached, but shows excellent patina. I hope when the machine shop is repurposed that this can be saved.
The sun was setting outside, highlighting the textures and lines that made the form of the power plant take a fourth dimension–time.
The powerhouse was notably older than the rest of the complex. I’m still not sure if it was build just for the cooperage, or whether it preceded it.
Water vapor was collected and condensed to be reused in other processes. Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7
The many levels of catwalks make for a place where you can look from the ground floor to the roof, about 4 stories up.
The gulls wait to eat the next load of spilled grain. Arista 100.
This floor of the workhouse had corkscrew conveyors–big augers–in the floor to move material around. Most of the walls that were metal were missing, leaving the concrete structure and open doors.
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.
One of the older buildings on the site, this is an old power house that provided electricity to the plant. I spent some time walking around it and believe it was fired with coal gas but had a diesel backup installed later.
If there were no other options, operators could climb this ladder from the Communications Room to the surface, after opening two heavy steel hatches, of course.
A chalkboard halfway to the headhouse is untouched since the mill closed. It still has the cheat sheets!
A brewmaster’s desk leans beside a long-disused stainless steel kettle. The staircase above goes to another level of kettles, which are visibly older.
Fall in line, act skinny, watch out for low hanging pipes. Don’t ask me where in the maze this was… 90% of the plant looked like this; vast rooms and catwalks with crisscrossing pipes and valves.
The top floor of the Dominion Elevator. Acros 100 on 120.
Chester Creek’s lower sections change, demarking decades of change for Superior Street.
This is an elevator to move mine car loads of sand to the surface for cleaning and eventually glass production. Below is a flooded equipment vault. In front and behind is a loop through the larger tunnels in the mine. The horizontal braces supported electric cables for the mine carts.
A huge steam pipe snakes between catwalks, through the floors, and toward the condensers, so the water could be recovered and reused.
Latin; to grow. Root of the English word ‘surge’.
These stairs connected some small main-level offices with one of the main sewing rooms above. Because the roof on this building was strong, it was pretty well preserved–look at those colors. Through the open fire door on the left, though, you can see that the roof has given out.
The superstructure for the sea-leg skyways serves no purpose now… the offices are bricked up, too. Why?
The view from the larry, looking out at the overgrowing coke oven top. Papers listed the order of the charges for each oven, noting the sticky doors and persistent leaks. Emergency respirators and rescue gear was stored close, as long exposure to emissions from the rusty hatches could make worker pass out on the top of the ovens.
A tower above Minneapolis that few people see.
At the top of the workhouse, dust collection pipes weave through cross-crossing conveyors.
Looking up at the LEMP malting plant elevator. Look at that BRICKWORK!
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
The boiler doors are beautiful, and feature the name of the smelter and mine company. If you like these, check my article on the Mitchell Yards of Hibbing, MN.
A century-old ghost sign for Royal House Flour was preserved after a building is built above and through it! Looking from the north annex elevator toward the headhouse.
Filters and fans to draw air into the boilers in the second power plant.
Scrappers infamously gutted the factory, but this one green conduit going from the sintering floor all the way to ground level seems to have been spared.
Bits and things in a pile in the corner of the smelter, the unsold chunks of industrial history that didn’t sell at an on-site auction before my visit.
A sign of where man met machine.
After crushing, these machines would float lighter material to the surface of the water, where it would be skimmed and discarded. Gold and silver laden stone would sink to the bottom, where it was collected for the next stage of processing. Leica/Summilux 35/Ektar 100
This drying house was full of ventilation ducts, broken scales, and insulated carts to haul powder around the line.
Looking into the Pool 8 Annex from the original Ogilvie’s elevator.
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.
These copulas made the iron for casting.
A lime auger and massive feet of the lime hopper.
These ceramic bricks were likely from the fireproof tunnel that connected the elevators.
Steam pipes snake up the walls like vines, but with asbestos.
Goop and slop slip to drop in the shame drain.
This is a typical view of the factory; most of it was long hallways flanked by piles of equipment and access points to maintain them.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.
This might have been part of the Pioneer Pellet Plant. It looks to be a ball mill, which pulverizes ore by spinning it with thousands of ball bearings.
A typical shower in the old section of the hospital. It looks a little horrifying in the harsh light of a camera flash on the thousands of little white tiles. One soap holder hadn’t been stolen yet.
In the nitrating house.
Part of the system below Dock 2.
The light next to this acid tank was perfect, thanks to a gaping hole in the roof.
Dirty filters for some equipment hang, awaiting a purpose.
Isabella A (left) and B (right) were built in 1910 and 1913, respectively.
A side view of the floatation level. I found it interesting that there were little ladders and staircases in the mill to help workers get around–this place was not as shoddy as other mills I’ve seen.
Steam pipes squirm around the stacks.
Next to the generator room is the pump room, which moved steam around the complex.
The guts of the dock are connected with a long narrow hallway. Below this section are shops and labs.
Depending on the position of the valve, flour could be routed from the filtering process back into a mill.
Dust explosions were a real risk for grain mills. These funnels helped to filter the air in the mill.
While walking out I snapped this last shot of the sunset drenching the castle-top watertower (staying with the theme), right before the sun dipped below the hill across the stream from which the whiskey was distilled.
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!
At the extreme eastern end of the plant is a bank of modern concrete silos. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
Looking up at the network of elevators at the Saskatchewan Wheat Pool. Its train shed doors stand open under the void where conveyors should be. You can see where they used to connect on the left and right. The outside of the building is covered in racist graffiti.
A few from atop the steam gauges along the western wall. The turbines were scrapped quickly after the plant closed, it seemed.
Generations of Two Harbors teens smoked their first weed in this abandoned building, in my estimation. Comment if I’m right!
The working end of the blast furnace, where molten metal would flow like lava out of the furnace… a process called ‘tapping’.
In the steam plant, steam pipes bundled in canvas and asbestos criss-cross the walls.
The ‘working’ part of the furnaces are about a story above ground level, so the catwalks snake above the tree line.
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.
Brewery Creek Waterfall, somewhere above Duluth. Lit with candles and a small LED panel. To me, it looked like a pipe pouring molten metal.
In this photo you see three lives of Lyric: 1.) The Art Deco murals showing the Vaudeville background; 2.) The suspended ceiling put in when the building was converted for film; 3.) The explorers, photographers and others who worked in and on the building before its final demolition.
The bottom of the stairs leading from the work floor to the cafeteria.
The giant radiators in this casting shop look like a flag to me.
Between the gauges for the power plant boilers and the steam pump flywheels.
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.
In the middle of Electric Steel, dust collector vents cross-cross out of sight.
Chester Creek takes many such sliding dives where it empties into Lake Superior.
The conveyorway between the on-site grain elevator and mill.
A simple porcelain fountain in the original brewhouse. The water fountain, no doubt, is not original.
The side of King that faces the lake is stained yellow-green.
The head distiller could walk out of their office to this balcony and overlook the whole fermentation process in a glance.
2005. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
A machine to cast copper billets.
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.
Look at the floor–do you see the hole? That goes down a lonnnnnng ways.
Looking at the engine house (left) from atop the stoves.
One thing that made the Eagle Mine unique is the underground mill, left of this picture. As the rocks moved down the mill, they would be turned into finer and finer powder.
On the upper floors where the sunlight is yellow–the color of flour dust, once exposed to the elements.
This is what it might have looked like if a new Ford descended in the elevator with its headlights on. As seen from the Mississippi side–the opposite portal faces the sand mine.
A wide view of the steam pump room, complete with pistons (taken apart for their brass), flywheels (covered in graffiti and rust) and pressure gauges (smashed apart for fun). I guess what I’m trying to say is, I was not disappointed.
Water damage dissolved the ceiling into sludge. Pillars remain, as do the plastic light covers, now on the floor.
Not ghosts. Slow-moving explorers’ shadows create a ghostly effect in the ‘Old Ward’–the second floor of the Service Building.
Halfway up the coal conveyor, covered in coal dust… black streaks of snot. Starting to get good.
A ruined culvert near Oregon Creek, behind Old Main, the predecessor of the University of Minnesota-Duluth.
Spots of yellow gravel mark gold mines with nothing left on the surface. Is this one of the drainage pipes?
This section of the production floor was constantly dripping. Someone had laid down giant plastic sheeting to attempt to protect the lower floors, but it hasn’t worked.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
Every floor of the main hospital buildings had its own bathrooms. They often make obvious the fact that these buildings were intentionally built as permanent structures. Even a century after they were built, and several decades of total neglect, they were in fabulous condition.
Blue plastic siding filters the summer sun, giving the otherwise reddish-brown interior a splash of color.
This sawtooth roof collapsed months later under the weight of an early snow.
Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.
Looking from the mill at the old transfer elevator’s steel tanks.
Looking toward the old power house, right below one of its arteries.
2010. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
No wonder the factory shut down; everyone was scheduled to work 9 to 5 and the clock’s broken! (In all seriousness, this is/used to be a beautiful timepiece, especially for a utilitarian factory like this.
This is the crane that would be used to lower extra-heavy bits of copper ore into the fire of the furnace.
Gloves hang in the basement of the former quality assurance labs.
The wrought iron staircase for what was the Consumer’s Brewery Brew House, as indicated by very fine cast landings with the company logo. The staircase is in bad condition; someone had run a forklift or something similar into the bottom in addition to copious vandalism and water damage. Holes in the floor, like in the upper-right corner indicate where stainless steel kettles used to be before they were scrapped.
One of the early automated painting booths in the paint plant line.
Across the walls of the brick repair shop, near where men and machine entered Shaft No. 3, vines, pipes, and graffiti battle unknowingly for visual prominence.
A great lakes freighter slowly passes SK Wheat Pool 4 with ‘The Sleeping Giant’ in the background. Arista 100.
Looking across a skyway at the dust-collecting funnels, one of the few pieces of equipment that haven’t been completely decimated by time and the elements.
It seems like this pipe was made to return dust to the collector in the main workhouse from the annex.
I tried to hide the graffiti from my photos, but sometimes it wasn’t possible.
Sunset through a stained window in the headhouse made the floor feel like a heavy industrial Disney movie.
I love when moss grows indoors… one of the little pleasures of exploring abandonments.
One of the only remaining pieces of equipment in the distilling room is this green control panel on a bridge suspended in the middle of it all.
A wrecked pressure gauge and employee time cards.
This volume gauge could be read from 30 feet away, which is useful when the control panels and valves are that far away.
The mostly-empty distilling room is easy to spot from the outside because of the distinctive round window.
The basement of the asylum was a strange place. Take, this fireplace, for instance, in an otherwise barren room. Random cinderblock (left) has created a little room behind the fireplace. To round out the strangeness, a toilet was plumbed into the middle of the space. Note the stone foundations.
So much relies on one thing stacked on top of another thing.
When it was convenient, the sugar company would pull equipment, even pipes, from one mill for another.
The only door into a large windowless concrete room, probably a storage bin. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
The skylights with geared-to-open windows were massive and quite functional.
The perfect place to have a post-industrial picnic.
The water tower no doubt made good scrap after it hit the ground.
The entry point for the painting shed on the top floor. Cars would have a few feet in between them before they entered. Separate sheds would prime and add color.
These machines circulated water through the powder from the ball mills. Gold and silver is heavier than gravel, so it sinks while the junk rock floats.
What are we to do in an emergency?
The roof of the elevator was partly lit naturally with six big skylights. The less electricity pumped into a grain elevator, the less chance of a grain dust explosion.
A control panel that was mothballed, anticipating a time when the plant may be reactivated.
Paint lines were constantly monitored through big windows. Adjustments could be made on the dedicated consoles. This is what most of the painting floor looked like.
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.
Storms and waves, focused by the Port of Wisconsin entry have focused the faces to tear-up these boards below.
A typical stretch of the assembly line.
This side of the mill, which abuts the Great Miami River, is much older than the other side of B Street. You can tell it went through many revisions.
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.
Easier-to-demolish parts of the power plant were torched apart. Catwalks to nowhere meant lots of dead ends.
The rust garden’s brick centerpiece contrasts the muted winter Kentucky palette.
The bottom of the grain drier inside ADM-Delmar #1.