These stairs connected some small main-level offices with one of the main sewing rooms above. Because the roof on this building was strong, it was pretty well preserved–look at those colors. Through the open fire door on the left, though, you can see that the roof has given out.
The beet juice was boiled down to make a syrup, which would be drained down the trough to the crystalizers.
On first impression it might look like a funky mailbox, but trust me on this one; it’s a flour bolter chute. In flour milling, “bolting” means sifting the flour through successively smaller screens.
A fallen branch smashed out this skylight years ago, and since then the bees have found this tiny toilet a perfect home. This is part of the hotel where employees slept.
C’mon and grab your friends… we’ll go to very—rusty lands…
Just across the North Dakota border, a rusty Milwaukee Road boxcar sits where it was shoved off the mainline. The grain elevator in the background marks the tracks, which is still used by BNSF.
The wings of the church had a lot more water damage than the rest. The organ on the balcony was in decent condition when I arrived.
The iconic outline of a prairie sentinel. Quintessential rural industrial architecture.
Little has changed inside the mill, but since it was built in 1916, many tanks and ancillary buildings have popped up around it.