The side of the maintenance shops, still home to several disassembled electric carts.
From the 1909 addition, it’s obvious how much water it takes to carry a single wall to, into and through the cracks between the floor tiles: exactly one roof’s worth.
And I forget just why I taste / Oh yeah, I guess it makes me smile / I found it hard, it’s hard to find / Oh well, whatever, never mind (Nirvana, “Smells Like Teen Spirit”)
Looking toward the Female Infirmary Ward from the long, glass, Conservatory hallway.
Looking across the catwalk attache to the elevated control room, in charge of the train dumping part of the operation.
This door used to open at river level, but it has since been built up and sealed with a steel grate. Still, the original doors (with original paint?) stand in the same place. Once they opened to the fresh air, now they are permanently sealed in the tunnels. This is the official entrance for inspecting the mine, hence fiber optic and ladder. Shortly after the plant was demolished, this entire area was resealed and alarmed.
The incinerator’s hardened steel door… useless, but still sexy in a heavy-industrial kind of way.
A window for light and air pokes above the big arch in the hallway. Most of the interior ceilings were broad brick archways.
Beds line a basement room that is part way between the concepts of inside and outside. Boards and bricks were falling while I was photographing it—stay out.