A cracked sign at dock-level, where loading boats would be tied below the taconite conveyors. All across the surface of the concrete dock were taconite pellets, like slippery little marbles. One wrong step could put a worker in the water, which is a bad, bad place to be.
Just a couple guys enjoying an industrial ruin.
Sidewalks to a boarded barracks, each making the other obsolete in the night.
Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.
Sunrise in SEMI. The shadow of Kurth Malt is cast across ADM-Delmar #1. Clouds behind ADM-Delmar #4 light up. It’s cold and the air smells like train grease.
When I revisited the mine in 2013, the hoists were scrapped and sitting by the road.
Glowing observation windows–and someone forgot to lock a patient’s door…
These aluminum powder kegs were forgotten in storage.
Looking out of one of the biggest houses in Animas Forks toward the rest of the residential district. It is hard to imagine the life the people here lived, for those that stayed the winter.