Tour Report: Hotel "Lampshade"

On a bleak, cold day in November 2020, we set out to explore an abandoned hotel. It stands on the edge of a small village in the Thuringian Forest and was closed in the early 1990s after barely a decade of operation.

The drive from our accommodation was not exactly short—just over two hours. Along the way, we took in the late autumn scenery: the cold and damp had wrapped the Thuringian Forest in a dense veil of fog that would linger with us throughout the entire day.

The hotel sits atop a hill. To the south and west lie residential areas; on the eastern slope, a few cattle grazed quietly on a wide pasture, while to the north the complex borders an expansive stretch of forest.

We parked some distance away in a spot that seemed inconspicuous and made our way toward the building. The fog swallowed every sound. There was no wind, and the cold felt sharp and still—I couldn’t help but feel like we had stepped into the opening scene of a horror film.

Even from afar, the structures were visible: a large, prefabricated six-story accommodation block, flanked by two lower annexes that once housed kitchens, dining halls, and various other facilities.

Finding a way inside didn’t take long. Within minutes, we discovered an open door and slipped into the building. We began by exploring the guest room block. As was typical in socialist times, the rooms were all identical: beds, a wardrobe, a lamp, and a small shelf.

The higher we climbed, the more evident the decay became. Water had clearly been leaking in from the roof, and the damage intensified with each floor. The mold was so pervasive that, despite the cold, we could almost taste the decay in the air. We didn’t even want to imagine what it must be like here in summer.

I found the small shelves particularly charming. Much like the rooms themselves, they existed in various stages of decay—from nearly pristine to damp and green with mold, all the way to completely gone. Tracing this “path of decay” in detail would go too far here, but I’ve included a small photo at the end of this post that captures it quite well.

After finishing the hotel section, we moved on to the areas that once housed the restaurant and other facilities. This was where vandals and cable thieves had done the most damage. The rooms bore clear signs that parties had taken place here over the years—none of which had done the building any favors.

Even so, we were still able to capture some truly striking images. At one point, however, our progress was abruptly halted: access to further parts of the complex was completely blocked and secured, which took us by surprise. With that, our exploration came to an end—aside from the sealed-off section, we had seen nearly everything.

On our way back to the car, we suddenly heard noises coming from behind the barricaded area—metallic, rhythmic, unmistakably the sound of tools. Apparently, someone was using that section as a workshop at the time—or perhaps metal thieves had sealed it off themselves to go about their “work” undisturbed.

Either way, we were glad we hadn’t tried to push further. We weren’t particularly eager for human contact out here.

And so, after a truly successful exploration, we made our way back to the Husky farm, where a well-earned, hearty dinner awaited us.

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

Tour Report: Farmyard for Sale

The final spot we explored on our tour in November 2020 with our dear friend Biggi from Der Schlittenhundehof was an old, abandoned farmhouse located right in the middle of the village. It was easy to get onto the property - the construction fence was basically just leaning loosely against a wall, so we could just slip right through. We hurried into the buildings so that no one would see us wandering around the yard. The doors to the buildings were all open, and there wasn’t much to see. Some of the ceilings had already collapsed or were on the verge of doing so; the same was true of some of the walls. On top of that, it was slowly getting dark, so despite our flashlights, we couldn’t properly assess the condition of the floors. So we stayed in the rooms that seemed reasonably safe - even though the old wood creaked and cracked in every nook and cranny.

The rooms were completely empty - but we did find a few relics left behind by former residents.

In the end, they were just a few small items, but even these were fragments of a life and tell stories about it - such as the correspondence between Edeltraud and Erna, two young girls, friends who had apparently been separated by the division of Germany.

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

Tour Report: Tunnels into the Mountain

After visiting the former children’s sanatorium together with our friend Biggi from Der Schlittenhundehof, we decided to check out a few sights around the town. This time, it wasn’t about abandoned places - just a relaxed walk to wind down after our exploration.

Later, we drove to a small parking area just outside town, located near a hiking trail. We had chosen this spot for a cozy coffee break. Just before turning into the parking lot, we noticed an opening in the hillside on the right side of the road. We couldn’t make out much, but it looked intriguing enough to spark our curiosity immediately.

Right next to the parking area, there was another tunnel entrance - this one sealed off with a heavy metal door and a padlock. Still, it added to the sense that there was more to this place than met the eye.

But first - coffee.

We set up our small camping chairs and table. When I make coffee on the road, I always use my Petromax percolator on a compact gas burner. It takes a bit longer, but that’s part of the charm - we weren’t in a hurry. As we sat there, sipping hot coffee on a gloomy November day, just above freezing and with a light drizzle in the air, a few passersby gave us puzzled looks. Three people casually having coffee on a parking lot in that kind of weather isn’t exactly an everyday sight.

While waiting for the coffee to brew, I took a closer look at the sealed tunnel entrance. There was no obvious way to open the door, but peeking through, I could catch a glimpse of the tunnel behind it. It looked promising - but inaccessible.

So our attention returned to the entrance we had spotted from the road.

After finishing our break, we set off on the short walk. As it turned out, this tunnel was open. At some point in the past, a brick wall had been constructed just behind the entrance to prevent unauthorized access - but it had long since been breached, allowing us to enter.

Inside, we found two somewhat larger chambers, clearly carved into the mountain by human hands. At the time of our visit, we had no idea what these tunnels had originally been used for. Mining? Air-raid shelter? Something else entirely?

Unfortunately, the items we found offered little clarity. Scattered boots, wooden posts, tools, and fragments of porcelain raised more questions than answers. There was no way of knowing who had brought them here, when, or for what purpose. Some objects suggested possible military or civil defense use, but we couldn’t confirm any of it.

From a photographic perspective, the site wasn’t particularly rewarding either. Dark, mostly featureless walls don’t offer much visual appeal. On top of that, we had only brought our “small” flashlights - after all, a cave exploration hadn’t been part of the plan.

In the end, it was an exciting little exploration, even if it didn’t reveal much about the tunnels’ history. That would only come more than two years later, when we returned to the area and discovered additional tunnels…

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

Tour Report: Children's Sanatorium "Helmut Just"

For my exploration of the former children’s sanatorium “Helmut Just” in Bad Frankenhausen in November 2020, we were incredibly lucky.

I knew that this abandoned building existed in the small town of Bad Frankenhausen/Kyffhäuser, but I had never consciously seen photos from inside. When we visited our dear friend Biggi at Der Schlittenhundehof in November 2020, we decided to take a small excursion - and the old sanatorium was our first destination.

To be completely honest, I didn’t expect us to get inside at all. As we drove along the road, I already spotted the tall stone wall surrounding the property. That didn’t look promising at all. All the more surprising, then, was the sight of the large gate leading onto the grounds standing wide open. Of course, we weren’t brazen enough to park directly on the property, so we drove a little further down the road and left the car there.

From there it was only a short walk back to the sanatorium. Slowly we passed through the gate and began looking around. There were cars parked in the courtyard, so it was safe to assume that people were on the premises. Then we noticed that the main entrance to the building was open.

An open door and potentially people inside - situations like this are, in my view, a perfect opportunity to ask for permission to look around. So I stepped through the door and called out loudly, “Hello!”

Two people came down the stairs almost immediately. After we politely introduced ourselves, they explained that the building was planned to be reused in the future and that they were currently checking whether protected bat species had chosen the old sanatorium as their habitat. Since we strongly support bat conservation ourselves - and, for example, never enter buildings during the winter months if they serve as hibernation sites - we apparently made a good impression.

We then asked whether it would be possible for us to take a quick look around and snap a few photos. To our surprise, we were given permission to move around the building until the conservationists left - which they expected would be in about half an hour.

We thanked them enthusiastically and immediately set off. Going back to the car to get our “proper” gear would have taken too long, so we rushed through the corridors and rooms armed with nothing but our phones. Time was short, and we wanted to see as much as possible. We didn’t manage to check out the basement or the attic - and I’m pretty sure this was the fastest exploration we’ve ever done!

The building was completely empty, but considering it had been abandoned for almost 30 years, the condition was remarkably good. There was hardly any vandalism at all, and the decay was relatively limited - probably due to the lack of vandalism and the fact that nearly all the windows were still intact.

This exploration was a real surprise, so with happiness in our hearts, we set off to explore the next location of the day!

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

Tour Report: Soviet Fighter Control Center M.

After finishing our visit to the old industrialist’s villa, we decided to explore one more location. Architecturally and historically, this second site couldn’t have been more different. Instead of decaying bourgeois elegance, we were heading toward a relic of the Cold War: a Soviet fighter-control bunker near Merseburg.

Starting in the mid-1950s, the Soviet armed forces constructed four fighter control stations across the territory of the former East Germany (GDR). These installations served as subordinate command posts responsible for directing interceptor aircraft. Their role was to coordinate the defense of the airspace - especially guiding fighter jets toward hostile bombers.

Radar and reconnaissance data were received, analyzed, and used to guide aircraft directly to their targets, a process known as fighter control. During the Cold War, facilities like this formed an important part of the Soviet air defense network.

One of these bunkers was built on a mining spoil heap near Merseburg. Today the area has been renaturalized and turned into a pleasant landscape, making it a surprisingly nice destination for short hikes. With the weather on our side, that suited us perfectly.

I didn’t know the bunker’s exact location on the hill, but we were optimistic that the hiking trails and smaller footpaths would eventually lead us there.

We parked right at the start of the trail, grabbed our gear, and began the search.

At first we followed the regular hiking path winding its way up the spoil heap. After a while, the first small relics appeared—subtle signs that we were heading in the right direction. The first was one of those typical hydrants often found on former Soviet military sites. Nearby remnants of electrical installations confirmed our suspicion. A little further along, we spotted reinforced, earth-covered vehicle garages beside the path.

Vehicle Garages

So we had definitely reached the former military area. Now all we needed to do was find the bunker.

Luckily, the vegetation wasn’t too dense at this time of year. That made it easier to spot things that might otherwise have been hidden beneath thick greenery. The first structure we discovered was the bunker’s assembly shaft rising from the ground.

That meant the main bunker had to be nearby.

Since I had looked up a rough floor plan beforehand, I had a good idea where the entrance structures might be. A few minutes later we stood in front of a locked door - and felt the first wave of disappointment.

Access Structure

Fortunately, there was a second entrance.

And this one was open.

Through the entrance structure we entered a long access tunnel that eventually led us through an airlock and into the main bunker.

The structure itself is monolithic: essentially a massive concrete block measuring roughly 40 by 13 meters.

From the main corridor we could reach the different sections of the bunker: the kitchen, the water supply room, the ventilation filter chamber, and the situation room.

Main Corridor

Filter for the Ventilation System

Water Supply

Situation Room

At the far end of the corridor we found the room housing the backup power generator. Surprisingly, the installation was still in relatively decent condition, although many movable parts had already been removed by metal thieves over the years. Adjacent to it were the generator control room and the transformer room.

Generator Room

Generator

Generator Control

Considering that the bunker was already more than 60 years old at the time of our visit, the overall condition of both the structure and the equipment wasn’t particularly good. Comparing what we saw with older photographs, it was clear that many relics had disappeared over time.

Even so, exploring this Cold War bunker was a fascinating experience. Sites like this help paint a clearer picture of the once-extensive Soviet military presence in the region.

And in the end, we even discovered something unexpected: the shoulder board of a Soviet soldier. It was already badly deteriorated - but for me, it was still an incredible find.

Shoulder Board of a Soviet Soldier

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

Tour Report: The Chateau by the River

One week after exploring a former Naval Air Base to bridge the time until our vacation, the long-awaited day had finally arrived. Our vacation had begun! For our first tour, we had chosen two promising locations: an abandoned factory owner's villa and a Soviet bunker.

We started the day with a relaxed breakfast before packing the car. The first location was only about 30 minutes away, making for a short and easy drive.

Our first stop was the abandoned villa. Information about the building is scarce, but it was most likely constructed in the early 20th century as the residence of a factory owner. During the GDR era, it may have been repurposed as the administrative building of a local VEB (state-owned enterprise). Since German reunification, the villa appears to have been left to decay.

The property lies between a quiet river and several still-active industrial buildings – a striking contrast between past and present. Although it would have been possible to approach by car, there were no official parking spaces nearby, so we decided to park a little further away. Fortunately, we found a public parking lot within walking distance. From there, it was about a 15-minute walk along a combined pedestrian and cycle path that runs right beside the river. The peaceful scenery and the gentle sound of flowing water provided a calm and almost deceptive introduction to what awaited us.

As we approached the villa, we were surprised to find no real barriers keeping people out. The old cast-iron fence had largely disappeared, and numerous well-trodden paths across the grounds suggested that the place was no secret among explorers.

Following one of these paths, we quickly discovered several possible entry points. At some stage, the doors and ground-floor windows had been boarded up, but many of the wooden panels had been forcibly removed, leaving multiple openings.

The moment we stepped inside, we were speechless.

Intricate woodwork, richly patterned fabric wallpaper, and beautifully crafted Art Nouveau windows immediately caught our attention. Despite visible vandalism and the unmistakable signs of decay, the villa still radiated a quiet elegance and hinted at its former grandeur.

The large stained-glass window was mostly concealed behind wooden boards – likely the only reason it had survived at all. I was also relieved to see very little graffiti inside. Perhaps we were simply lucky – or perhaps time and crumbling plaster had already claimed what once covered the walls.

We spent well over an hour exploring the rooms, taking our time to capture the atmosphere in photographs. Eventually, we made our way back to the car, ready to continue our day at the next location.

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