Shadows of the timberwork and cribbing are cast across cracked lake ice. My footprints follow cat tracks.
This battlement-like tower is the first thing one sees coming to Old Taylor from Frankfort.
Where the drain changes shape from round concrete to arched brick.
A morning breeze pushes the last ice from the lake against Wisconsin Point.
Stained windows and sheet metal catch the sunset from across the Ohio River.
This is what the complex looks like today to the bare eye. Dull, monochrome, quiet.
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.
The pockmarked concrete sign of Substation #2 over the control room that faces the highway.
Death. About two seconds after the explosives were triggered.