mount wellington | plan b

From the disappointment of Big Head, I moved onto the other cylindrical towers. Scrap metal was strewn all around the site, particularly at the base of these shafts, where itd been thrown and pushed from the plateau above.

These hoppers were still filled with ore, brought up from the mine over 900 meters below. Winched up via the headgear, it was tipped down these cylindrical tubes.

At the base of the hoppers, this machine portioned up the ore, depositing it into waiting trolleys. Now rusted and seized, the machine was still waiting to nip off the next bite. The water dripping through the hoppers and collecting around us was red with rust.

Everything was rusty and seized. Piping and machinery laid scattered about, bits of boilers and catwalks. Even an empty soft drink bottle had taken on the metallic hue, now stained red with all the other debris.

A trolley remained waiting for its next consignment of ore. Partly buried with rusting scrap, it was still identifiable; unlike the other tangled and torn pieces scattered around it.

It made sense now to follow the journey the ore took, from the base of the towers, and into the mill building itself.