When boiling beet juice accidentally spills from the gas-fired tanks two feet away, you better be wearing some of these, or bye-bye legs.
At sunset the light skips from puddle to stagnant puddle across the whole foundry room, playing with the classic sawtooth roof with half-hearted shadows.
Industrial blowers, new in the crate.
On the left is the broken glass room that contains the controls for the cable spool, now gone, that sat in the metal shell on the right. The stairs led down to the hoisting engine itself. You can make out the slits where the cable ran up to the headframe tower through the gaping archway.
We people are so small.
The last of four radar domes on the base.
The clock, which was sold after Amtrak dumped the building, was returned to the Waiting Room in 2005.
In one of the small offices there’s this machine that bills itself as “The Recorder.” I’m an old tech geek and I still don’t know what this really does.
The mill itself is one giant room sectioned into levels–more catwalks than concrete. Here you can see the evaporators and have a sense for the miles and miles of pipes that zigzag through the plant.