“Crunch, crunch, crunch,” said the ground. “I know,” I replied.
Short-stack remains of mounts for rod and ball mills, if I was to bet. The concentrator separated junk rock (tails) from the copper and silver ore, to such a point it could be smelted.
Looking out of the Brewery Creek Drain outfall at night, after a storm had pushed piles of rocks up onto the shore.
One of my favorite shots from that year, conveyor line parts stacked and hung with Postal Service bins from decades ago.
One of the old cooperage buildings is largely unchanged from when it was built. The raised section of the building houses a crane.
Counter-weighted ore cars alternately filled and emptied to feed Furnace 7. Honestly, though, the corner-mounted cranes are sexier in my opinion. Note the trees growing from the stacks.
A huge steel tank, one of several left over, left over from either the Ashland Oil or Allied Chemical periods.
The command building and a coolant tank. In the distance, rain and hail pound Wyoming dirt.
These long curved corridors connected the wards. Locked doors on both of their ends were a security and comfort feature. Sounds and people would be sealed in their respective wards, as the hallways would act like beautiful airlocks; they were so long that it was unlikely that doors would be open on both sides at the same time. Portra 160.