Tour Report: The House in the Woods

After our unexpectedly successful visit to the former correctional facility, we still had some time for another exploration before heading home. We didn't really have anything else planned when I came across a tip about a small, old house hidden deep in the woods. Even better, it was right along our route home. That's how it should be!

We had no idea what to expect, and we weren't anticipating anything particularly spectacular. As a result, the chances of being disappointed were relatively low.

After about an hour of driving and 50 kilometers on rural roads, we arrived.

The destination was indeed well hidden in a patch of woodland, and there were no designated parking areas nearby. We managed to find a spot to pull off the road and park our car on a relatively dry patch of ground.

Then we set off through the woods. The walk turned out to be shorter than expected, and within just a few minutes, we could make out the house between the trees.

At first glance, it appeared to be a self-built structure. An inscription above the entrance confirmed this impression:

Built in 1957 – Destroyed by Force in 1963 – Rebuilt in 1966

Inside the house, we found some remaining furniture, dishes, pictures, and other items. There were plenty of traces of its former occupants, but unfortunately, nothing that revealed who had lived here or for how long.

A small shed next to the house contained a few tools and old bicycles. A little farther into the woods, we came across several old agricultural plows and a few other items, including an old scythe.

One possible explanation is that the house was originally built without official permission. Perhaps its owner or occupant repaired or collected old equipment and bicycles? We simply don't know, and ultimately, any such explanation would be pure speculation.

Whatever the story behind this place may be, the little house had escaped vandalism. That alone made the visit something special. We also thoroughly enjoyed the walk through the woods!

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

Tour Report: Brick Factory "City Forest"

At the end of March 2021, we visited a dear friend in the German state of Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania. Naturally, we took the opportunity to explore a few abandoned sites in the surrounding area.

Our first destination was an abandoned brickworks, about an hour's drive from our friend's home.

The region has a long tradition of brickmaking, thanks to its rich natural clay deposits. Clay has been extracted here since as early as the beginning of the 13th century, and the brickworks itself can trace its history back to around the 16th century. Its heyday came much later, towards the end of the 19th century, when industrialisation transformed brick production on a much larger scale.

Over the decades that followed, the works grew into a sizeable industrial operation. Like many brickworks, it relied not only on the clay pits surrounding the factory, but also on a narrow-gauge field railway to move raw materials and bricks around the site. Some of the locomotives once used here survived long after the works themselves had fallen silent.

After the end of the GDR in 1990, the brickworks finally closed. In the years that followed, some parts of the site were given new uses, but most of it was simply abandoned and left to decay.

When we reached the former factory grounds, our first task was to find somewhere to park. Fortunately, this proved surprisingly easy. Parts of the surrounding area are used for recreational activities—there is even a climbing park in the nearby forest—and consequently, there are several parking areas in the vicinity.

From where we left the car, we only had to follow a small path through the woods. Before long, the remains of the old works appeared between the trees.

There were a few concrete barriers intended to prevent vehicles from entering, but there was no real fence or continuous perimeter anymore. The site had, quite literally, been left open to the forest—and to anyone willing to walk in.

The factory buildings were in a sorry state.

Some structures, including the old ring kiln, had been completely demolished, while others had only partially survived. Judging by what remained, we suspected that at least some of the old bricks had been salvaged and reused as building material elsewhere in the surrounding area. There was something strangely fitting about that: bricks that had once left this place by the millions were now becoming part of something new, while the factory that had produced them slowly disappeared.

In some places, we were slightly puzzled by the condition of the site. Certain areas looked as though someone had actually cleared them out. After I later came across photographs taken in early 2019, I began to suspect there might be an explanation.

In February 2019, a 14-year-old girl was seriously injured in an accident on the abandoned site. I suspect that the rescue operation and the investigations that followed may have resulted in certain hazardous materials being removed. In particular, asbestos-containing debris that was clearly visible in some of the older photographs was nowhere to be seen during our visit.

The further we ventured into the former works, the more obvious its decline became.

Many of the roofs had collapsed. Machinery and technical equipment had largely vanished, leaving behind little more than fragments of the industrial infrastructure. Walls stood without buildings, buildings stood without roofs, and in places it was difficult to tell where the factory ended and the forest began.

Nature was steadily reclaiming everything.

Fortunately, spring had not quite arrived yet. The trees were still mostly bare and the undergrowth had not yet awakened, which made exploring the site considerably easier. A few weeks later, the same paths would probably have disappeared beneath a wall of thorny vegetation.

Despite the destruction, there were still plenty of fascinating details to discover. The remains of the old production facilities, fragments of brickwork and concrete, and the traces of a once-busy industrial complex offered occasional glimpses into what this place must have looked like when it was still operating.

Some of the surviving structures were difficult to identify with any certainty. Decades of decay, demolition and vegetation had erased much of the original layout, leaving us to piece together the function of individual buildings from whatever clues remained.

One particularly intriguing structure stood on the southernmost edge of the surviving site. Raised above the ground on a massive concrete framework, it looked almost more like a bridge than a building. At first glance, I wondered whether it might have been connected with loading or the dispatch of finished bricks.

It was only later that I learned that the structure had apparently been used as a drying shed during the later years of the brickworks. Its elevated, open construction makes considerably more sense in that context: fresh bricks needed plenty of air circulation before they could be fired. The field railway may well have played a role in moving the bricks to and from structures such as this one, although by now the tracks themselves have almost completely disappeared.

It was fascinating to stand among these remains and imagine the activity that once filled the place. Where we found weeds, fallen leaves and silence, there would once have been the constant movement of workers, machinery and small railway locomotives, with freshly moulded bricks passing through the various stages of production before eventually leaving the works.

By the time we visited, almost all of that had vanished.

Still, there were enough traces left to make the exploration worthwhile. We tried to look at everything that was still accessible, even though much of the site had already disappeared beneath the advancing vegetation and decades of neglect.

And then, towards the end of our exploration, the weather decided to make things a little more atmospheric.

A steady rain began to fall.

By that point we were already wet, a bit tired and partially covered in whatever dirt the abandoned brickworks had managed to throw at us, so to speak. So we made our way back through the trees, leaving the ruins behind us in the rain.

Another forgotten industrial site, slowly returning to the forest.

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

Tour Report: The House of Bric-a-Brac

Hidden behind tall trees on an overgrown property, bordered by a quiet country road on one side and a golf course on the other, stood an abandoned thatched-roof house waiting to be explored.

On a chilly Sunday in February 2021, my mother joined us as we set out to visit this forgotten place. I had seen a few photographs beforehand and hoped to capture some of the countless details that seemed to fill the house.

After about an hour's drive, we reached the area and began looking for a place to park. Leaving our car in the golf club's parking lot didn't seem like the best idea - it tends to attract attention when you unload backpacks, tripods and safety boots instead of golf clubs before walking off in the opposite direction.

Fortunately, we found a small lay-by further down the road, allowing us to approach the property without drawing too much attention.

Getting inside turned out to be easier than expected. An open garden gate led onto the grounds, and the patio door of the house stood wide open.

Inside, the house presented a chaotic but fascinating scene. The former owner had clearly travelled extensively and seemed to have filled every room with souvenirs collected over many years. These were exactly the kind of details I had hoped to photograph. Unfortunately, previous visitors had already removed many of the most interesting items - and, perhaps even worse, had left everything in complete disarray. Judging by the empty bottles and other traces, the inevitable party crowd had also discovered the house long before we arrived.

Even so, there was still plenty to discover. According to local rumours, the entire house had been built almost entirely by its owner, a skilled craftsman. Whether or not the story is entirely true, the quality of the workmanship certainly supported it. Every room reflected remarkable dedication and attention to detail. The fireplace, the small bar, the staircase leading upstairs, the handcrafted shelving and the wood-panelled walls all suggested that someone had invested countless hours into creating a home that was both practical and deeply personal.

The upper floor contained piles of clothing along with a number of personal documents. Most revealed little about the former occupants, although a few provided brief glimpses into their lives. Among the papers were official documents dating back several decades, including records that reflected the turbulent political history of post-war Germany. Together with family papers and photographs, they offered fleeting glimpses into the lives of the people who had once called this place home - without ever revealing the full story.

A short distance from the main building stood a second structure that felt almost like a small house of its own. It contained a compact kitchen, sleeping quarters and a surprisingly spacious workshop. My guess is that it once served as a guest house, a hobby room or simply a private retreat - a place where its owner could spend time working on projects or enjoying a quiet evening.

We spent around ninety minutes exploring the property and came away with a collection of photographs that captured both its craftsmanship and its gradual decline.

Looking back, I sometimes regret being too hesitant to examine the personal belongings left behind. There is a significant difference between browsing production records in an abandoned factory and opening family photo albums or reading private letters and documents inside someone's former home. It feels far more personal—almost intrusive. Yet it is often those forgotten papers that preserve the final fragments of a place's history. Without them, many stories are simply lost forever.

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Tour Report: Farmhouse "Calendar"

After exploring the forester's cottage, we returned to our cars and headed for our next destination: an old abandoned farmhouse on the very edge of a small rural settlement.

About 30 minutes later, we arrived and parked roughly 100 metres away near a former railway crossing. Judging by its condition, no train had passed through there for a very long time.

The abandoned farm was neither fenced nor otherwise secured, allowing us to enter the property without any difficulty. Shortly after arriving, we met two young women who had apparently come up with the same idea. During a brief conversation, we learned that they had already finished exploring the site. They also admitted they were a little proud to run into an urban explorer who was fairly well known within the scene.

After saying goodbye, we began our own exploration, starting with the outbuildings along the roadside. Whether they had served purely as garages and storage buildings or had once been used for other purposes was impossible to determine. What we did find, however, was an astonishing amount of clutter. Containers, bicycles, old shoes, radios, and even trophies from dog shows were scattered throughout the buildings.

We then turned our attention to the farmhouse itself, where the amount of abandoned belongings was even greater. Piles of old newspapers, countless calendars, clothing, and household items lay everywhere. Much of the furniture had been overturned, and it was obvious that someone had searched through the cupboards and drawers in the hope of finding valuables.

The resulting chaos meant that there were hardly any worthwhile photographic subjects left inside the house. Far more interesting were the numerous magazines, documents, and working records related to cattle breeding. Among them were several issues of the magazine Rind im Bild and even a cattle insemination record from 1989. These discoveries strongly suggested that the former owner had been a cattle farmer and that the farm was still in active agricultural use at least until the late 1980s.

A visit to the barn reinforced that impression. We found the typical drinking bowls used for cattle, while an adjoining building still housed a machine for mixing animal feed.

Part of the barn had been filled with large quantities of cut firewood, alongside a few pieces of old furniture, including worn armchairs. Whether the wood had already been stored there by the farmer remains unclear. By the time it was stacked inside, however, the building could no longer have been used to house livestock. It is therefore equally possible that a later owner or occupant had simply converted part of the barn into a wood store.

Unfortunately, we were unable to uncover any reliable information about the history of the farm, so any conclusions beyond these observations would be purely speculative.

With our exploration of the abandoned farmhouse coming to an end, so did our day of urban exploring. We returned to our cars and began the journey home - unaware that just a month later, the farmhouse would be destroyed by fire.

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

Tour Report: The Forest Ranger's Cottage

A week after our visit to the abandoned brickworks, we found ourselves heading out again on a sunny Sunday in February 2021. The snow had finally melted, temperatures had climbed back above freezing, and it was simply too nice a day to stay indoors.

At the time, Germany was still in the midst of its second strict COVID-19 lockdown, which had already been in place for almost two months. Travel restrictions meant we were not allowed to leave our federal state, so I started looking for abandoned places closer to home that we hadn't explored yet. Eventually, I came across two promising locations: a small cottage in the middle of a quiet village and a much larger farmhouse with a barn and several outbuildings.

The cottage turned out to be particularly interesting. During my research afterwards, I discovered that it had most likely been the home of the Holzvogt - the forester or woodland steward - of a nearby estate. Sitting right on the village's main road, however, parking anywhere near the property was out of the question.

Instead, we left our car in the parking lot of a temporarily closed restaurant on the edge of the village, where we met up with our good friend Elmar, who had travelled down from Hamburg. From there, we continued the rest of the way on foot.

The property itself wasn't fenced off and was easy to access, but unfortunately it had already become a dumping ground. In places like this, it's often difficult to tell which items actually belonged to the former occupants and which were discarded there long after the house had been abandoned.

Inside, the rooms were extremely cramped, so we took turns entering to give each other enough space to photograph the interior without getting in one another's way.

As expected, there were a few interesting details to discover, but the heavy clutter and the generally poor condition of the building meant that we only came away with a handful of worthwhile photographs.

Even so, it was a pleasant way to begin the day's exploration and, more importantly, a great opportunity to spend some time exploring with our good friend Elmar once again.

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Tour Report: Brick Factory P.

On our way home from Hotel Gutsmann, we still had a little time to spare, so we decided to make a short detour to the ruins of an old brickworks.

We had already visited the site back in 2013, but it's always fascinating to see what time and the elements have done to an abandoned building. The extra stop also gave us the perfect excuse for another walk through the snow-covered winter landscape.

About forty minutes later, we arrived and parked our car beside a vast, snow-white field. The deep blue sky, the untouched blanket of snow, and the crisp winter air created a truly beautiful atmosphere.

From our parking spot, it was only a short walk to the old brickworks - although by then, very little of it remained.

Even in 2013, the buildings had already been in a severely dilapidated state, which was hardly surprising 45 years after the fire that marked the end of the brickworks. Another eight years later, after well over half a century of abandonment, even less of the original structure has survived.

What did surprise me, however, was that the tall chimney was still standing after all those years, and that parts of the main building continued to withstand the relentless forces of nature.

The tree that had grown through the front bumper and radiator grille of a delivery van - left behind decades ago by a former furniture store from Lübeck - had grown even larger since our first visit. 

Scattered across the site were still countless remnants of old machinery, slowly being reclaimed by time. We spent a good forty-five minutes trudging through the snow, exploring every corner of the abandoned site before finally setting off for home - for real this time.

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