The building on the right was where parts not assembled onto vehicles would be set in crates for shipment.
Without a roof, the bricks were being washed away in the later years of the roundhouse.
Looking into the half-demolished, half-dismantled conveyor for the sea leg.
Gulls check in on me while I climb around the roof of one of the train shds of SWP #4. FP-100C.
One of the large barracks. All of them are overgrown like this.
North of the assembly complex is a storage network of earthen and concrete bunkers.
The last of four radar domes on the base.
In an old ward, two men would have shared this room.
The most pointless, beautiful and nuclear-bomb-proof catwalk I’ve been on to date. It goes between two high levels in its own bottom-lit concrete capsule in the center of the tallest, thickest building. Hang on, we’re riding this one out.