Part of the system below Dock 2.
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.
Ryan, as seen from the crane ladder.
Chester Creek’s lower sections change, demarking decades of change for Superior Street.
A few from atop the steam gauges along the western wall. The turbines were scrapped quickly after the plant closed, it seemed.
Look at the floor–do you see the hole? That goes down a lonnnnnng ways.
Goop and slop slip to drop in the shame drain.
These ceramic bricks were likely from the fireproof tunnel that connected the elevators.
The rust garden’s brick centerpiece contrasts the muted winter Kentucky palette.
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.
SWP4-A on the left and Viterra C on the right in a 90-degree panorama.
On the upper floors where the sunlight is yellow–the color of flour dust, once exposed to the elements.
A side view of the oven pusher from the ground. The tallest coal bunker looks tiny in the distance, though on the scale of the factory it’s practically on top of me as I’m taking the picture.
Chutes connect the bottoms of the silos to a conveyor belt.
Halfway up the coal conveyor, covered in coal dust… black streaks of snot. Starting to get good.
Because painted signs would not hold up in this spot–in between four ovens that were literally hot enough to melt steel inside. Solution: Cut the pipe labels into the sheet metal. Seems to have worked.
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.
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.
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.
Looking into the tunnel system from below the Women’s Ward. The tunnels were used mostly by staff to move food and laundry.
Storms and waves, focused by the Port of Wisconsin entry have focused the faces to tear-up these boards below.
A gateway for St. Louis as seen through a gateway (of sorts) in East St. Louis.
The bottom of the grain drier inside ADM-Delmar #1.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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!
At noon, the lower skylights around the shops glow yellow-green, thanks to the flora blooming on the roof above.
The final ball mill in the Chain O’ Mines concentrator. Behind it was a bucket of steel balls.
Pipes to channel nitrose (think nitro glycerine) infused acid through the building.
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.
The end of the heating line allowed glass to cool slowly, and thus be stronger.
The end of the new elevator. Line of bird droppings follow the fire sprinkler pipes and wires in the room.
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.
Latin; to grow. Root of the English word ‘surge’.
Isabella A (left) and B (right) were built in 1910 and 1913, respectively.
Standing next to the now-demolished records room.
Some parts of the doctor’s apartment in the Administration Tower were decidedly upscale. Look at the beautiful ironwork on that sink!
Water damage dissolved the ceiling into sludge. Pillars remain, as do the plastic light covers, now on the floor.
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.
Days after the long-flooded basement was pumped out. Note the water lines!
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.
In what has turned into a kind of industrial courtyard between four ovens some people have posted their tags. X was here.
I love when moss grows indoors… one of the little pleasures of exploring abandonments.
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.
Next to the generator room is the pump room, which moved steam around the complex.
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.
Chester Creek, where it was forced to dip below the circa-1970s I-35 tunnels.
Looking down the kiln line from atop the furnaces.
The giant radiators in this casting shop look like a flag to me.
At the extreme eastern end of the plant is a bank of modern concrete silos. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
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.
One of my favorite visual feature of grain elevators, especially big ones, is how they repeat.
The bottom of the stairs leading from the work floor to the cafeteria.
These tubes would bring cement to the top of the plant for storage in the silos.
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.
In the nitrating house.
Water vapor was collected and condensed to be reused in other processes. Kodak Tri-X 400/Leica M7
The top floor of the Dominion Elevator. Acros 100 on 120.
Standing atop the dust collector, the factory breaks down into diverging patterns, processes.
Much of the signage in the mill was hand-drawn.
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”)
What are we to do in an emergency?
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 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.
Although the caves deviated little in their year-round temperature, it was common to use blocks of ice to cool beer immediately before shipment. This is the ruins of the ice chute.
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.
Shadows of the skylights form a backdrop for rust-welded machines.
Dirty filters for some equipment hang, awaiting a purpose.
Under the monster and its teeth.
The only good shot I have of the top of Battery A, in the upper left. Though it seemed to have been disused before its neighbor it had a lot less growth on it.
Looking into the Pool 8 Annex from the original Ogilvie’s elevator.
A typical stretch of the assembly line.
Steam pipes snake up the walls like vines, but with asbestos.
A natural stone floor in Brewery Creek’s upper path has been worn smooth.
It seems like this pipe was made to return dust to the collector in the main workhouse from the annex.
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.
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.
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.
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!
A machine to cast copper billets.
Looking up from the ground floor at the various levels of the sugar mill.
The factory was utterly vertical.
The water tower no doubt made good scrap after it hit the ground.
Sluice tables stretch into the darkness.
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.
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.
I did not take the escape ladder to the surface, but I am told it pops up in the middle of a hill next to the missile silo doors.
At the top of the workhouse, dust collection pipes weave through cross-crossing conveyors.
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.
A simple porcelain fountain in the original brewhouse. The water fountain, no doubt, is not original.
Rows of offices under the power plant, which was in the middle of being demolished during my adventure. Despite the snow, this was meant as an interior.
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.
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.
Water at the bottom of the silo was perfectly clear.
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.
These copulas made the iron for casting.
A ruined culvert near Oregon Creek, behind Old Main, the predecessor of the University of Minnesota-Duluth.
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.
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.
The first step of the filtering process is being spun through this tube.
The bricks routinely fell from the walls, like seeds falling from trees. On a smaller scale, new walls grew from the floors.
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.
This load of lime seems to have been left right where it was loaded.
Looking up the Dominion Elevator’s tower. I especially like this picture because it shows how so much of the electrical conduits wound round through the mostly hollow space.
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.
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.
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.
A caustic tank in one of the unremodeled brewhouse backrooms.
In a strange loft next to the brewhouse are these twin kettles, which seem much older than the main kettles in the brewhouse.
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.
Filters and fans to draw air into the boilers in the second power plant.
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.
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.
This drying house was full of ventilation ducts, broken scales, and insulated carts to haul powder around the line.
Fermenters and mixing tanks fill this brewing room. The lighting is all natural, and is partially owed to a crumbling wall letting the sunset blast the interior in almost perfect profile.
A light-painted portrait of one of the few remaining carts that moved everything from fresh eggs to soiled laundry through the tunnels.
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.
The engine room.
Blue plastic siding filters the summer sun, giving the otherwise reddish-brown interior a splash of color.
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.
The only door into a large windowless concrete room, probably a storage bin. Kodak Portra 160/Mamiya 6.
A winding flue between the ovens for Furnace 6, capped with sketchy catwalks.
In the steam plant, steam pipes bundled in canvas and asbestos criss-cross the walls.
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.
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.
Lockers for the boiler room workers.
Looking up at the LEMP malting plant elevator. Look at that BRICKWORK!
Easier-to-demolish parts of the power plant were torched apart. Catwalks to nowhere meant lots of dead ends.
Either the company was pulling parts from this evaporator to use as parts for other plants, or the last thing the workers did was to get this machine ready for the next campaign. Either way, plans changed.
The sound of water running in the distance.
One level below where the cotton was nitrated, the fumes must have been powerful. This floor had several massive ventilation fans in its walls.
Looking into the main workhouse from the skyway into the annex elevator. But who care? Look at the colors!
Workers would undoubtedly prefer to use the belt manlift on the right.
The mostly-empty distilling room is easy to spot from the outside because of the distinctive round window.
I tried to hide the graffiti from my photos, but sometimes it wasn’t possible.
A typical large mine tunnel. You can just make out the narrow gauge rail.
Steam pipes squirm around the stacks.
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.
Unloading boats had the option to take on fuel at Taconite Harbor. This building, among other things, pumped fuel to the dock.
The conveyorway between the on-site grain elevator and mill.
The head distiller could walk out of their office to this balcony and overlook the whole fermentation process in a glance.
While the stokers are gone, the pipes bringing pulverized coal down were left.
Generations of Two Harbors teens smoked their first weed in this abandoned building, in my estimation. Comment if I’m right!
2005. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
Chester Creek takes many such sliding dives where it empties into Lake Superior.
Brewery Creek Waterfall, somewhere above Duluth. Lit with candles and a small LED panel. To me, it looked like a pipe pouring molten metal.
This giant gear’s sole purpose was to turn the ship’s single rudder in all conditions.
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.
Blast Furnace 7 as seen from the ore yard. Imagine running up those stairs through blast furnace smoke.
Much of the circa-1950s buildings remain with few alterations, such as these long boring sheet metal ruststicks.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
The old gate sign, leaned against one of the terminal elevators.
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.
The Comm Room’s portals once supported many more conduits.
This is a great example of a combination rock house; the silos below used to fill trains with ore dropped from mine cars pulled to the top of the structure.
Looking out of Kurth Malt a the neighbors–the silos past Electric Steel are those of the Froedert Malt Company, now gone.
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.
The sun was setting outside, highlighting the textures and lines that made the form of the power plant take a fourth dimension–time.
A control panel that was mothballed, anticipating a time when the plant may be reactivated.
A tunnel that brought heat from the power plant to the Hart House. Since that building was demolished, this only served as a fallout shelter. To my knowledge, this was never used to move bodies to the incinerator. That was probably done with a vehicle and the lower entrance to the power station, which did dispose of TB victims for some time.
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.
Watch your head, say the colors. This side of the plant is apparently still standing and is owned by the city.
This building had its own kitchen, suggesting that it may have been one of the hospitals units within Norwich, such as the tuberculosis hospital.
A sign of where man met machine.
Looking from the mill at the old transfer elevator’s steel tanks.
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.
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.
C’mon and grab your friends… we’ll go to very—rusty lands…
The newer tunnels were fitted with these fluorescent lights, although some skylights (block glass embedded in skywalks) let in some natural light during the day.
On the middle level of the Poacher House. For a detailed view of the chart see ‘See Reverse’.
After climbing the elevator shaft to the illusive second level, a new pallet of colors were revealed.
This sawtooth roof collapsed months later under the weight of an early snow.
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.
The working end of the blast furnace, where molten metal would flow like lava out of the furnace… a process called ‘tapping’.
The many levels of catwalks make for a place where you can look from the ground floor to the roof, about 4 stories up.
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.
Sprays of water kept the muddy mixture flowing across the sluices, which filtered out gold particles from gravel and dirty.
Jet Lowe is my inspiration.
In the middle of Electric Steel, dust collector vents cross-cross out of sight.
So much relies on one thing stacked on top of another thing.
A tower above Minneapolis that few people see.
2010. A skyway connecting two Which tube carried the beer? I hope it’s the big one!
The huge snowfalls of 2011 brought new collapses across the buildings.
The light next to this acid tank was perfect, thanks to a gaping hole in the roof.
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.
A lime auger and massive feet of the lime hopper.
The guts of the dock are connected with a long narrow hallway. Below this section are shops and labs.