A pink room with very heavy doors that reminds me of the rooms at some of the insane asylums that I’ve explored.
The bricks routinely fell from the walls, like seeds falling from trees. On a smaller scale, new walls grew from the floors.
2013. A perfect summer day meets a beautiful old roundhouse on the edge of town.
Different doors for different vehicles, I would guess. White Pine Mine used tire-based vehicles, rather than track-based, making it pretty different than other mines I’ve been to.
Pillars painted red indicated firefighting supplies. Fire was a very common enemy of early rail facilities, and many roundhouses burned down because of a combination of dry wood, hot, fire-breathing machinery and countless oil-saturated surfaces.
No windows? Bricks? Must be for flammables.
From the street, it’s clear that almost every window and door had boards over it, but not every building had a roof. Silly priorities.
The pigeons and raccoons have no use for these, so they will sit empty until snow or fire removes them by force.
This building seemed like a pump house or compressor house. It was full of empty concrete mounts.