Sunset through a stained window in the headhouse made the floor feel like a heavy industrial Disney movie.
A facade that tells the story of demolition and neglect. The sign on the garage door indicates that if one finds themselves there, that they enter the buildings at their own risk. If only property owners in the US took this philosophy!
A me-sized hole in the half-demolished skyway looks about a story down to the ground. Step lightly. Arista 100.
With its fresh paint, Lake Superior Elevator “I” almost looks contemporary, but it far outdates its neighbors, It replaced a wooden elevator by the same name in 1919.
At noon, the lower skylights around the shops glow yellow-green, thanks to the flora blooming on the roof above.
The view from the larry, looking out at the overgrowing coke oven top. Papers listed the order of the charges for each oven, noting the sticky doors and persistent leaks. Emergency respirators and rescue gear was stored close, as long exposure to emissions from the rusty hatches could make worker pass out on the top of the ovens.
Looking at the engine house (left) from atop the stoves.
Worm in the path of raw ore where it would be dumped from rock cars into the silo below.
The people that stayed here carved bowls from the mesa itself to collect water.