Lit by the glow of St. Paul’s West Seventh bars, highlighted by the cool blue of the sleepy section of South Side. This castle-like tower can be seen for miles around town; a Landmark at the brewery that brewed a brew by the that name.
A white star marks the landing between the Keeper’s Quarters (Second Floor) and the radiobeacon and furnace rooms (First Floor).
When the lake levels were especially low, the pilings of Dock 3 that are usually underwater were clearly visible between Dock 2 and Dock 4.
The glow from the city is bright enough to read by.
Trees like masks.
The side of the maintenance shops, still home to several disassembled electric carts.
The end of Dock 5 is warped and bent from a rail accident that left some ore cars swinging like a stringy wrecking ball into the end of the superstructure and accompanying stair. The stairs are still navigable, but it wasn’t recommended by the CN workers that were with me.
Canal Park (see bridge) and some of old downtown, formerly Duluth City Hall and Police Department (center-left). At least one star has appeared in the sky…
Taken just after the sun set over Duluth. Don’t you love that green glow?
The topmost roof of the hospital is covered in antennae and includes a star that faced the rest of the complex, now demolished.
The American Victory next to M, seen late at night.
A bright red light blinks on the end of the abandoned dock to ward off passing boats.
A US Army Corps of Engineers tug, tied at the end of the pier before the American Victory was parked here.
Kate in the crow’s next… very shaky by the time she got to it.
The pilot house, lit with the lights of Superior.
A nice view of the aurora borealis (“Northern Lights”) strong enough to outshine the industrial lighting at the power plant. The lights in the foreground direct ships discharging coal for the station.
Superior Entry’s lights, backlit by the aurora borealis. In the distance, you can see the lights of Two Harbors.
Looking toward Duluth from the top of a Dock 1 light tower. NP Dock 1 is on the left… an earlier competitor to Allouez. The stars reflect on Lake Superior.
The top of the docks are so rotten in places that you can see the lake through the boards. In the foreground you can see the controls for the chutes, which work on a clutch.
Fergus Falls State Hospital. Well, technically moonlight… but a with stars nonetheless! The orange glow from the left and in the rear of the building are exterior lights on associated–former State Hospital–buildings. All other light is from the full moon that evening.
Looking up at the end of the dock at the night sky, with just the hint of the Northern Lights in the sky.
No, it’s not your Mac’s desktop, it’s a beautiful Lake Superior night. Taken from near the former Pittsburgh and Reading Anthracite Plant. You can see the frame that used to hold the lifeboat that was auctioned in 2006 to the left of the Pilot House.
A 5-minute exposure of the tunnel and stars, and even some of Duluth’s city lights bouncing off the clouds. A single off-camera flash in the tunnel gives the effect of an oncoming train.
Not much to the catwalks.
Ladders crawl the back of the signs. Graffiti writers’ right of passage.
On top of the light hoop, 160-feet up, a ship comes into port, ready to load-up. If you look really close, you can see my shadow cast on the dock below, courtesy of the full moon.
Summertime is when Duluth goes to the lakeside to listen to music, visit traveling fairs, and talk to neighbors about the smell of the lake. As seen from the castle walls.
Shadows of distant power lines are carried to the concrete by street lights.
A sizable crane on the corner of the engine house still swings out.
The moon highlights the contrails over the engine house in the middle of the night. Foreground light painted.
A long exposure of the city glow illuminating the roof, highlighting the victorian and gothic influences on the brew house.
A 16-minute exposure from the roof of an abandoned building shows the aurora borealis and streaking stars.
Standing next to the now-demolished records room.
Looking through the trestle toward the ghost town.
The turned rail was to prevent runaway cars from going over the end of the dock and into the lake.
The Big Dipper brought its friends into view, and the best seat is 80-feet up.