One side of the street is demolished. The other is not.
In this old repair shop, vines fall from the rotting roof to meet mossy concrete. Even though it had been dry for days, water dripped in from the roof to make permanent puddles between workstations. It was full of color and sound and industry and nature.
San Luis may not be a ghost town, but it’s aspiring by all indications. Luckily, it’s close enough to Cuba, NM to hang onto life, unlike the other ghost towns down the road.
There is no denying that the Fergus Falls asylum was a beautiful place, especially around sunset.
One of the smallest of the many elevators in Thunder Bay, this little elevator held corn for the glucose and starch lines.
On the top floor of the former casket building is the finishing line for the coating section; on this section the final spray of plastic would hit the wood before a small furnace would seal the plastic permanently to the surface, making it more resilient, I assume.
Delmar #4 is like two elevators in one, in capacity and design.
The the left, the nitrating line in War City. To the right, War City’s sole suburb, Charlestown, IN.
Kate stands on top of the tailings pile that added some usable land to the side of the gulch. Somewhere nearby is the buried Santiago Tunnel.