Power plant
Plan
In the spirit of urbex, I set out to explore a place that has no future of decay ahead—because it has already decayed. A place that was once full of people, radiating energy. Literally.
Getting here was not easy. I tried several times, but the first attempt was thwarted by too many people around, and I lost my courage. On a weekday after lunch, everyone seems to take their dog, cat, rabbit, or girlfriend for a walk, and I couldn’t risk being seen.
I map out the schedule of local drunks and kids, trying to find a window to slip behind the old fence unnoticed. I park my car far away, almost like a dieter trying to hit 10,000 steps a day. But I don’t want anyone noticing my Czech license plate. I already draw attention from the neighbors—because aside from the local Jürgen, Helmut, and Horst, nobody usually parks on this street.
I’m going in!
My knees feel weak as I scan for a way in. I lack the trained eye of a thief or an escape artist. I can’t see a clear entry—everywhere feels exposed. After ten minutes of pointless inspection of the fence and its frustrating perfection, I finally spot a section that isn’t bolted down. Not a soul in sight—I slip through. My breathing quickens, a tingling rush runs all the way to the tips of my hair. I’m inside the compound.
The fence was only the first obstacle—now I still have to get into the building. If anyone can choose the wrong path multiple times, it’s me. A maze in real life, better than any video game. I keep doubling back and getting lost, guided only by messages from a fellow urbex friend telling me where to go.
And there it is. I’ve found the window that isn’t fully closed. It looks perfect—only at first glance. In reality, it’s probably the least accessible spot in the entire building. But when there’s no other option? I’ll have to squeeze two meters of myself through the opening, along with my backpack, camera, and tripod. And I have no idea what’s waiting on the other side.
I drop onto someone’s old work desk. Not long ago, it probably held postcards from holidays and crumbs from a snack. Now, it’s holding me.
I’m looking for the control room
I move through the building in fascination. At every window, I pause, looking for a way up to the second floor. What if the place is guarded and somewhere a trained dog—like Rex—is already tracking me down?
I hear something—footsteps, voices, sounds… maybe just ghosts. I need to find the control room quickly. But I really do hear something. Hopefully just my imagination.
I pass idle machines and massive boilers, climbing old rusty stairs in search of my destination. And there it is. I’m standing in the control room. So real—and so majestic. A place an ordinary person would only ever see in movies. And here I am, with both the privilege and the audacity to be inside.
The Finale
Now this really doesn’t feel right—I can actually hear someone! I tense up and start quickly packing my things back into my backpack, preparing a fast exit strategy. It’s not a guard with Rex, but a group of young people who came here to hang out. Of course, they have their own way in. But no, mine is better. We briefly wave at each other, considering who should run. Alright, no one does.
Holding my camera seems to calm them down. I move through the place, continue taking photos, and when the noise from the young group reaches unbearable levels, I leave the control room. A few old stairs ahead and a view through dirty windows. And behind the windows—a group of people. That’s the last thing I need. These aren’t urban explorers.
A moment for a long drag and some thinking. Which way to go to disappear unnoticed? The sound of a drone makes it easier to decide. Phew—they just want aerial shots of the power plant. Only fools climb inside through those tiny windows. I slip out like from a stranger’s bedroom and get into the car. On the memory card, I have a collection of amazing photos.
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