In one of the small offices there’s this machine that bills itself as “The Recorder.” I’m an old tech geek and I still don’t know what this really does.
In the soft wood of the machine, an employee left their mark.
Empty spools, thousands of them, were around the mill.
One of a few rolling workbenches to keep the thousands of pulleys, cogs, and belts working properly.
The end of the monorail in the nitrating house.
Part of the brewing process is sterilizing the kettles, pipes and tanks all product would touch. This was done with a caustic solution. To the left is a healthy pile of asbestos where a heating tank used to stand, insulated in the carcinogenic mineral. The tank got cut apart, the asbestos stayed here.
Away from the rest of the plant–as if forgotten, or hiding–is this little stamp press. Yes, this is little by press standards.
A closeup inside the mill’s power room.
A gate large enough to accommodate a missile, next to the ruins of the guard shack. Wyoming is the intersection of lonely and beautiful.