Disabled forklift… I think it’s a Clark.
Hotel Duluth from the roof of the Temple Opera Block, just before the sun dipped below Thompson Hill. The tires are a kind of calling card for the building’s former owner. Where my feet are in this picture used to be the third floor of the building (note the outline of the floors on the wall to the left).
The basement held a makeshift chapel.
Many outdoor areas of the plant have become unofficial city dumps. The skeleton doesn’t care.
On the rooftop of the Temple Opera Block are some old fast food table sets. It did not seem like they had seen much use recently. The tires across the rooftop is a sort of calling card for the building’s former owner.
The ice around the dock, compressed by the waves, was less clear than the open ice.
Street lights and pavement are some of the obvious signs a town used to be here.
The shaft house, where hydraulic steel doors allowed or denied entry into the mine shaft. Overhead is a light and alarm. If it sounds, the mine is being evacuated, and you best not go in and best stay the hell out of the way. Locals dump tires here, now.
From an unsteady perch atop the blast furnace, the morning light began to leach into the complex below.
A stack of tires, some of which are destined for the roof. For some reason, a hundred old tires adorn the roof of the Twohy.
The moon highlights the contrails over the engine house in the middle of the night. Foreground light painted.
A snapshot to show the state of the Twohy. Not good.
I am not sure what this structure is, but it seems to be put together like a gold mill. It existed in 1952, and seems to be from about that period.