Near the base of the mesa is a modern house, which seems to be a ranch of some sort. What a fantastic spot to live, but for the fact every rainstorm floods the arryos, muddy ditches at the bottom of gullies, making it impossible to travel.
This used to be one of the office doors, but it’s been removed (apparently without malcontent) and placed in the shop area.
The side of the church, taken from a grungy sidewalk.
Spare firebox bricks palleted on the second floor, is if it was going to be repaired.
One of Martinsdale’s defunct businesses perpendicular to the depot. Recall that Martinsdale is a T-town.
Iron becoming dirt becoming birches.
A wrecked pressure gauge and employee time cards.
Looking at the ghost sign from a rust-locked cement conveyor that linked the silos with a packing warehouse.
The UP gets a lot of snow, making exploring its old mines a special challenge in the winter. The snow is more than 6 feet deep in this picture, and firm enough to walk on.