Sliding fireproof doors and an old hydrant at Harlowton’s old yards.
A comrade lights-up where so many workers apparently congregated to do the same.
The third floor corridor is not so welcoming, as it requires visitors to walk along the support breams without the luxury of a floor. I didn’t mind, but I can’t see the family with young children that was also exploring Noisy doing the same.
This load of lime seems to have been left right where it was loaded.
Rubber dock boots still sits under the desk in the dock office, near keys to rusted locks and files of fired employees.
The bridge here moved workers between the dock, the approach tracks, and refueling buildings.
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.
Presumably, in a nuclear blast the antenna would be blown flat and pop back up, allowing communication even after a near-direct hit.
A photo from my first trip, although very little has changed in this area of the building except for the level of graffiti. I love skylights, don’t you?