Rubber dock boots still sits under the desk in the dock office, near keys to rusted locks and files of fired employees.
Thousands of tags in a supply closet. Each has lots its meaning.
We mark our world in unexpected ways… this is how patient possessions would be stored during their stay in the old asylum wards. It’s about the size of a shoebox, and this particular drawer has a name where the others do not. Its place reminded me of the hospital cemetery where more than 3,000 are buried and less than 1% of whom are recorded by stone or plaque in their resting place.
This is one of the rooms near Shaft 1 that was converted to be a Dry Room, where workers would wash and change between shifts.
No more bailouts. No excuses.
This tree caught my eye. Note the bench swing near it. Portra 160.
On my first self-guided tour, the calculator was caught my eye because it was one of the few things left behind in the laboratories that filled the second floor. On my next trip, it had been smashed to pieces.
In the office at the end of the dock are two brooms. One is from the last ore train. One is from the last boat.