This sign was important when trains ran the length of the elevator.
Taconite Harbor’s main road, now overgrown and leading to nothing. Just asphalt between caved-in curbs.
A winding flue between the ovens for Furnace 6, capped with sketchy catwalks.
The top of the barracks staircase.
Blue plastic siding filters the summer sun, giving the otherwise reddish-brown interior a splash of color.
I slid into the mill through the top floor, near where the rock-grinding ball mills were left to rust. I look around, taking in the most intact gold mill I’ve ever explored. Movement attracted my eye to the ceiling, where I found something staring back, a raven was observing me with some interest. It had been a while since I have brushed up on the folklore and mythology, but I took it as a good sign. Leica/Summilux 35/Ektar 100
“Against the blue sky, its rusting central silos look like rising smoke meeting the last minutes of a sunset. These give way to a corrugated night sky of blue gray, punched-through with staggered four-pane windows, all glassless.”
I had to search the shelves a while to find this old logbook. The open page lists changes in stock numbers for Cutler Hammer Coils, and one row says that a new coil was installed on the black larry. The larry is the machine that loads coke ovens.
I can confirm the existence of the long-rumored Federal Rectangle Research Institute labs.