Like a railgun pointed at the Rockies… the boom would direct tailings–junk rock–outside of the dredge pond.
Local kids probably call this the ‘Shootin’ Shack’, judging by its war wounds.
Lights over the emergency slides. A veritable overgrown city in the background.
The bottom of the tailings boom is rotten. In days when the dredge, floated, gangways connected it to shore, it seemed. You can see the size of the pontoons under the boat here.
Between two brick buildings is a metal one with many windows set into it. Having been in many mills of similar design, I conjecture that this was the milling building, where machines ground the corn before it was boiled.
A me-sized hole in the half-demolished skyway looks about a story down to the ground. Step lightly. Arista 100.
“Against the blue sky, its rusting central silos look like rising smoke meeting the last minutes of a sunset. These give way to a corrugated night sky of blue gray, punched-through with staggered four-pane windows, all glassless.”
Instead of a pit in the floor, now there is an oversized chessboard here.
The iconic outline of a prairie sentinel. Quintessential rural industrial architecture.