From an unsteady perch atop the blast furnace, the morning light began to leach into the complex below.
The ice around the dock, compressed by the waves, was less clear than the open ice.
Hotel Duluth from the roof of the Temple Opera Block, just before the sun dipped below Thompson Hill. The tires are a kind of calling card for the building’s former owner. Where my feet are in this picture used to be the third floor of the building (note the outline of the floors on the wall to the left).
The moon highlights the contrails over the engine house in the middle of the night. Foreground light painted.
I am not sure what this structure is, but it seems to be put together like a gold mill. It existed in 1952, and seems to be from about that period.
Many outdoor areas of the plant have become unofficial city dumps. The skeleton doesn’t care.
The shaft house, where hydraulic steel doors allowed or denied entry into the mine shaft. Overhead is a light and alarm. If it sounds, the mine is being evacuated, and you best not go in and best stay the hell out of the way. Locals dump tires here, now.