Tour Report: Air-Raid Shelter W.

After visiting the “Moostaverne” on the sixth day of our 2020 summer vacation, we took a day off to relax a little. We often do this when we arrive at the husky farm, because the first evening is usually so full of joy at seeing everyone again that the next day is more about recovering from the hangover.

In this case, we also wanted to take it a little easier due to temperatures approaching 40 degrees Celsius.

Unfortunately, the temperatures hadn't changed much the next day. Nevertheless, we wanted to go on an outing, so we looked for a location that wasn't too far away and that we could explore in a short amount of time.

So we decided on an old air-raid shelter on the grounds of a huge former mineral oil plant. Originally, sixteen of these “Salzgitter” type bunkers were planned for the site. Eight were built, and only two have survived the decades since World War II. One of these two bunkers has been converted into a museum, but it rarely opens its doors to the public. The second remaining Salzgitter bunker on the site is located south of the premises of a metal recycling company. We drove around a bit to find a parking lot that wasn't too far from the bunker and, ideally, provided a little shade—given the heat, this was the right thing to do.

In the end, we parked in a small niche between some bushes right by the road and set off on the short walk.

Even this short distance had us sweating profusely.

When we arrived at the bunker, we could see an entrance and hoped that it would be a little cooler inside. But no such luck. The bunker is above ground and not covered with earth, so the summer sun and heat had plenty of time to warm up the walls. It was only marginally cooler inside than outside.

But of course we took a few pictures—nothing spectacular, because this place didn't really offer much in terms of photo opportunities. Nevertheless, visiting this place was another piece of the puzzle in our picture of the mineral oil plant, other parts of which we had already visited in the past.

As I said, it was just a little trip to satisfy our desire for abandoned places and history. But that was really enough in this heat, and we made our way back to the husky farm, where a nice siesta awaited us.

To find out more about the history ofm this place, click the button below.

Mold's Tavern

On the sixth day of our 2020 summer vacation, our route took us eastward. We had planned to spend the second half of our holiday with our dear friends at the husky farm and take day trips from there.

On the way, we took the opportunity to visit a location quite well known in the urbex scene – the so-called “Schimmelwirt”, which roughly translates as “Moldy Landlord.” It’s an inn that was built around 1890 and has stood vacant for many years following severe water damage.

Our plan required a small detour, but the wonderful summer weather made it more than worthwhile. The drive led us through the Weser Uplands – a landscape of rolling green hills and lush meadows. Beyond that, the road continued into a vast conservation area, characterized by deep forests and wide, unspoiled fields. Numerous ranches and stud farms in the region attract day-trippers and tourists alike.

Our destination lay on the southern edge of a small village, almost exactly halfway between our first stop and the husky farm. Fewer than 250 people live there.

The building stands directly beside the country road. On its eastern side are a few occupied houses, and there are more residential buildings across the street – which naturally increased the risk of being noticed.

There was no discreet place to park. However, since it was the middle of the week, we assumed most residents would be at work. So we took the chance and parked right in the inn’s own parking lot.

Almost immediately, we spotted an open door at the back of the building. We grabbed our gear from the car and got to work. Entering through the door, our first impression was disappointing: the room we stepped into looked more like a garage, cluttered with trash. But that disappointment didn’t last long – another door led from there into the heart of the inn.

Of course, we had seen photos of the place before, but we were still surprised to find that the first dining area showed almost no signs of decay. The inn must have been popular and lively in its heyday; we found dozens of commemorative plaques from local clubs that had celebrated their anniversaries there over the years.

Decorative items and even music cassettes were still scattered around, and an opened bottle of Linie Aquavit stood in the cake refrigerator.

From the bar area, we moved into another dining room – and here it became obvious how the place had earned its nickname. The water damage had truly taken its toll: plaster had crumbled from the ceiling and lay on the tables, wooden panels had come loose overhead, and the walls, though still paneled, had warped from the damp. Black and green mold covered almost every surface.

Interestingly, this level of decay was largely confined to that one area and to some of the rooms directly above it. The rest of the building – including the guest rooms – was in surprisingly good condition. Some parts had naturally suffered from years of neglect, but others still looked as if they could welcome new guests at any moment. The furnishings, of course, are far from modern – they evoke a charming nostalgia, a time capsule of the 1980s.

After about two hours of exploring, we had seen everything. We took a short break by the car and then set off again – after all, we wanted to reach the husky farm in time for dinner!

To find out more about the history and to check out all the photos from this place, click the button below.

The Monastery of Mold

The second abandoned spot we explored on the fifth day of our 2020 summer vacation had a history stretching back more than a century. The red brick building was originally constructed in the early 1900s as a monastery. During World War II, it was seized and converted into a military hospital. After the war, it became a care facility for elderly and sick residents of the region - while the missionary teaching activities were resumed at the same time. Among others, a certain Joseph Ratzinger - later Pope Benedict XVI - taught here in the mid-1960s.

By the end of that decade, the seminary was closed, and the former monastery was repurposed as a home for difficult-to-raise children. Its final use was as a rehabilitation clinic, which shut down operations in 2009.

We had no real idea what to expect - but the journey alone was worth it. From our first location, we drove over a lake and passed through a landscape of forests, meadows, and fields, all glowing in perfect summer weather.

There were, of course, no parking spots to be found. And rolling right up to the entrance was out of the question. So we went with the obvious solution: we parked next to a glass recycling container by the roadside and walked up along the former access road.

The impressive building was surrounded by a construction fence - although someone had conveniently left several garage-door-sized gaps at the back, making access ridiculously easy. We quickly found an open door and began our exploration.

Years of abandonment had taken their toll. Alongside the usual vandalism and stripped cables, there had been a fire in the attic not too long before our visit. The traces of firefighting efforts were still visible throughout the upper floors.

But honestly? Without those water-damaged walls and layers of decay, there would have been far fewer photo opportunities. The fire and subsequent dampness had supercharged the deterioration, turning once plain walls into beautiful canvases of crumbling plaster and vibrant green hues. I have to admit — without that touch of ruin, the place would have been only half as charming.

The attic offered some great shots as well, though moving around up there required extreme caution. The floorboards were already giving way in places, making every step feel like a gamble.

Since the building had been used solely as a clinic for many decades, nothing in the interior hinted at its original purpose anymore - but in its architecture, the sacred past was still unmistakable.

After thoroughly exploring the place, we decided to head back. That’s when we spotted two figures walking along the rear side of the building. For a brief moment, our hearts skipped a beat - but it turned out to be an elderly couple. They had settled down on a bench right next to our “entrance.”

As we left, we greeted them and asked if they were from the area. That sparked a lovely conversation. The old lady told us she had worked at the clinic as a kitchen assistant for decades. Now, she and her husband came back at least once a week to relive their memories. They were saddened by the state of the building - but they understood why we were taking photos.

It was a genuinely heartwarming exchange and the perfect ending to our visit. Conversations with people who lived through a place’s history always add that extra layer of meaning.

To find out more about the history and to check out all the photos from this place, click the button below.