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.
