Spring melt flows down the rusty rock house. In the background is the frame for the shaft.
In the mine offices, hooks and a board with numbers was the system to keep track of who was in the mine and who was safe.
Looking into the coke batteries in the extant oven… chunks of coke are still hanging from the inner walls, despite the exterior’s wrecking ball pummeling.
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.
A fireproof room in the basement, perhaps for ammunition storage at one time.
Looking out from my perch close to the Kam toward the Ogilvie head house. To the left is a newer concrete annex, probably built in the years it bore the name Saskatchewan Pool 8.
A cottage for masons infected with TB to live together.