Between the catwalks of Furnace 6, the molted ore would flow through the chute.
On top of the light hoop, 160-feet up, a ship comes into port, ready to load-up. If you look really close, you can see my shadow cast on the dock below, courtesy of the full moon.
Looking from the brewhouse at the death of its sister building, across Minnehaha.
A cracked sign at dock-level, where loading boats would be tied below the taconite conveyors. All across the surface of the concrete dock were taconite pellets, like slippery little marbles. One wrong step could put a worker in the water, which is a bad, bad place to be.
The perimeter fence still holds strong, 50 years after it was put up.
A row of security lights line the roof of the power station.
Delmar #4 is like two elevators in one, in capacity and design.
I love that the administration building–almost 100 years old now–still carries the original name.
I wonder what this guy is thinking, walking through the complex.