A firedoor dating to the original car barn is roped off, anticipating demolition.
Why the door had to be moved over 2 1/2 feet will remain a mystery.
From a distance (here, Union Yards), you can still see ARMOUR spelled out on the smokestack in white brick.
Between lines of Number Sixes right after sun rose behind them. This photo shows how extremely lush the grounds are that make getting around in some places impossible.
This was a living space for the keepers during storms, when it was too dangerous to return to the houses on the point.
Some of the doors had sliding plastic windows, but most of the older ward doors simply had these peep holes drilled through them. The inside was always marked and worn more than the outside.
A stencil instructs the first and third shifts to ask security for access. Security was out during all my visits, except one mishap where a strung-out local chased me with a truck. Having spent a decade exploring the U.P., I was not caught off guard.
In the steam plant, steam pipes bundled in canvas and asbestos criss-cross the walls.