Another perfect Indianan sunset alights like a bird on the tops of the vent houses and tree-packed smokestacks.
Short-stack remains of mounts for rod and ball mills, if I was to bet. The concentrator separated junk rock (tails) from the copper and silver ore, to such a point it could be smelted.
The company headquarters. Abandoned last time I drove past it, though it is the classiest building in downtown South Bend.
The power lines follow the street, down to the mineshaft. Everything revolved around the mine, it seemed.
A shallow creek traces Illinois Gulch toward the Chain O’ Mines mill. Ball mills are laid out in the sun.
Cracked gauges have a certain quality that hearkens to movies, I think. One can imagine the gauges going off the scales before dramatically cracking, throwing glass right at the camera. This damage, however, is unfortunate vandalism.
On the Turbine Room floor, one old steam pump still remains, ready to pressurize steam pipes with the hot stuff throughout the car shops and boilers.
The back of the pilot house had a desk full of navigational notes and maps.
Looking up at the most conspicuous graffiti in the city on ADM #4.