Hiking into the ghost town with enough gear to live there for a few days, if we wanted.
“Crunch, crunch, crunch,” said the ground. “I know,” I replied.
This gives you a sense for what it looks like to stand on the roof of the main production building at sunset.
A buck-fifty shot for a postcard stand. Taken from the Stone Arch Bridge.
Though it’s a little unclear what control station controlled what function, these levers seemed to relate to some of the bigger equipment inside the dredge, such as the trommel.
The “Inner-Urban Jawbreaker,” a one-of-a-kind, salty-but-sweet remnant of a bygone heavy-industrial period in this area’s history. A time when the walls were whole and the floors were clean, in other words, a time when people made things other than photographs inside the never ending corridors and factory floors.
The hike to the village is steep. This is looking into the valley from the halfway point.
The white mark allowed for a manual RPM check on this big steel flywheel on the ground floor. Note how dark the bottom level of the mills is—that’s because all of the equipment is blocking out the light.