Rust undermines the decade old graffiti on the steel bin.
When the building switched souls from booze to bread, these contraptions were mounted across the brewhouse floors… they’re not for hops, either.
The rear of engine bay 13… according to the heavily faded sign.
Looking down range. You can tell where most of the rounds hit by the dark marks in the wall.
Candy jar molds, in the far corner of the paint shop.
Looking through the open windows of the Bunk House toward what I think is the outhouse for the miners. There’s a big bench in the middle of the bunk house that was used as dinner table.
Looking into the Argo Tunnel at its Idaho Springs portal. I was hoping to see tracks and a steel door, but found a busy crew of environmental workers installing a pipe between the bulkhead and new water plant.
I slid into the mill through the top floor, near where the rock-grinding ball mills were left to rust. I look around, taking in the most intact gold mill I’ve ever explored. Movement attracted my eye to the ceiling, where I found something staring back, a raven was observing me with some interest. It had been a while since I have brushed up on the folklore and mythology, but I took it as a good sign. Leica/Summilux 35/Ektar 100