Part 7 - Everything Under Control
In this blog and ongoing series, you can follow Abandoned Nordic's urbex road trip as we journey from Finland to France along an extended route. The trip will take about a month, and along the way, various things unfold. We are currently in Germany.
We’ve just dropped through an open window onto the dusty concrete floor of the power plant. Silence surrounds us as we pause, listening intently to our surroundings - nothing. The air is exactly as we expected: a balanced mix of dust, oil, and metal. With the stillness unbroken, we begin to move forward through the dimly lit ground floor of the plant.
As we continue, we pass rooms that resemble workshops and other utility spaces. We have a rough idea of where our destination lies - practically on the opposite side of this facility. In this section of the plant, the only way forward is up, so we start ascending the stairs. We lose track of the number of floors - around seven or eight - but finally, at the top, the stairwell opens into a vast process hall. Thick metal pipes snake across the room, tanks loom in the corners, and metal stairways and bridges crisscross the open space. Some areas drop all the way to the ground floor, while others form platforms and tiers, creating separate levels and intricate spaces. It’s an impressive sight, but not the one we came for. Somewhere here, hidden in the shadows, lies one of the true masterpieces of its era: the striking control room
Modern control rooms prioritize efficiency, safety, and practicality, leading to more functional and minimalist designs. In contrast, many early power plant control rooms were not only built for functionality but also as showcases of technological progress and national pride. Constructed in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, these spaces often reflected the architectural styles of the era, such as Art Deco and Art Nouveau, emphasizing beauty and craftsmanship. These rooms were like "showrooms," designed to impress visitors and highlight engineering achievements, using high-quality materials to ensure durability and elegance. In their time, these ornate control rooms represented a unique fusion of art and technology, something rarely seen in today’s industrial settings.
We had already figured out from outside the power plant where the control room might be located - it’s several floors below us now, so we begin our descent down the many staircases in the process hall. Though the stairs are metal and somewhat rusted, they seem sturdy enough. Lower down, a hallway opens up, leading us out of the process hall, and we immediately sense we’re headed in the right direction. We’ve entered the turbine hall. From here, a short metal bridge stretches toward a glass-walled room - it has to be somewhere there. For a moment, there’s tension, as it seems like there’s no way forward, but then we spot an open panel on the far side, low enough for us to crawl through. After squeezing through and stepping through the next door, we’ve finally arrived
Stepping inside, the room’s distinctive oval shape immediately sets it apart, exuding an air of exclusivity. Natural stone instrument panels and control consoles still radiate a sense of mastery over complex technology. This space once governed the operations of Kraftwerk Plessa, one of Europe’s oldest lignite power stations. Built in 1926 and operational by 1927 under the Elektrizitätsverband Gröba, it was a marvel of its time. Though it ceased operations in 1992, the plant stands as a lasting testament to Plessa’s industrial history. Its towering chimneys, over 100 meters tall, still dominate the landscape, remnants of an era when lignite powered much of the region. The original machinery, untouched by modernization, remains frozen in time, a relic of a bygone industrial age.
Once we've soaked in the brooding atmosphere of the control room long enough, we leave just as smoothly as we arrived, and no one will ever know we were here - unless they happen to notice the footprints pressed into the dust on the floor of one of the workshops.