At the top of the workhouse, dust collection pipes weave through cross-crossing conveyors.
The BOMARC launch buildings are spaced on a large concrete pad that looks like a parking lot. Out of view are underground pipes for fueling and cooling the rocket motors.
Brick crowns of the twin stacks are not aging well.
The dock is still lit at night and it casts shadows over the rust-welded ore doors.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
The most pointless, beautiful and nuclear-bomb-proof catwalk I’ve been on to date. It goes between two high levels in its own bottom-lit concrete capsule in the center of the tallest, thickest building. Hang on, we’re riding this one out.
I couldn’t help but include this ghost sign for a demolished motel…
A divot to let more light and air into the building.
Blue skies and rust-pocked siding contrast the high-altitude blue sky. By the time I had worked my way back to the tram, it was sunset.