The Port Arthur elevator row, as seen from the edge of Fort William.
One night, I camped behind the sugar mill. You can tell be the clouds that a cold front was moving out—it was a hot day.
Below the factory floor is a network of hallways and tunnels, all flooded with water.
The lights of the active docks keep the retired #6 up all night.
Sunrise over Mill Hell, and all of Kurth’s various skyways. The elevators in the foreground date to the mid-1920s, Electric Steel is behind and is a little earlier than that.
A strange sight: Part of the drain here seems to have had a skylight of glass, which has since been filled over. However, the collapsing ceiling began to create natural skylights of its own.
This part of the workhouse was sheathed in fiberglass, but now you can see its insides from a mile away.
Looking toward the museum from a broken window on the side of the concrete tower. The sign on top lights everything a dull pink-orange.
“Against the blue sky, its rusting central silos look like rising smoke meeting the last minutes of a sunset. These give way to a corrugated night sky of blue gray, punched-through with staggered four-pane windows, all glassless.”