Above the old machine shop is a packing building and a crate of cardboard label rolls.
A sign in the desolate cafeteria.
I found a face.
The exterior of the factory is unassuming
This section retains water and is mostly shaded, so moss has found a way to live in the concrete.
“Cutting torch.” The remains of a catwalk now leads to void on the sintering floor, four stories over the next solid footing. Only two staircases led to the top floor, some half dozen others were cut off for scrap.
The hoist signal dangling beside the modern mine shaft would ring a bell next to the giant electric motors that would send the men and machinery into the underground.
Look both ways, people.
The individual ovens are skinny to allow even and fast heating of the whole interior. Numbers are cut into signs because no paint could withstand the heat or corrosive emissions from the coking process.