Urban Exploration - The abandoned NATO antenna
Today’s report is somewhat unusual: it’s the ascent of a former NATO antenna. You would think this kind of structure came straight out of a post-Soviet construction site—a titanic mass of semi-dilapidated military scrap metal. Yet, that isn't the case at all; it’s actually right in our backyard: Court-St-Etienne, Belgium. This antenna was finally demolished on October 12, 2023, through two successive controlled explosions.
Locals often refer to it as "the radar." This is a misnomer; it has nothing to do with any aerial radar function. It is a transmission transceiver, a NATO base, now decommissioned. In the town of Court, residents either despise or ignore the structure, often dismissing it as an eyesore.
As an old military structure, the antenna became obsolete with technological progress. Consequently, it was replaced by a white, modern, sleek, and much shorter antenna nearby, which still handles military transmissions. Gradually, our great antenna became useless; the transmitters were dismantled around 2006 (the final photo shows them for the record). This "half-Eiffel Tower" remained there, towering over the potato fields.
Logically, this mass of metal should have been brought down quickly. Standing at 165 meters (approx. 541 feet), it posed a significant concern for air traffic. But... there is often a "but" in our intrepid adventures! A high-pressure gas pipeline runs right at the foot of the antenna. This made traditional felling or blasting—the only economically viable solutions—impossible. Making it fall would pose a major risk. It would have to be dismantled piece by piece. Who would want to take that on? That was the situation until recently when, against all odds, patient planning finally led to its demolition by explosives.
In October 2013, NATO put the antenna up for sale to get rid of it. This caused a stir in administrative offices, a sort of waiting game. What would happen? A few mobile phone operators looked into the deal but eventually backed out due to lack of interest. Then, it was suddenly purchased in total secrecy, and everyone stopped talking about it. Curious... It turns out the buyer was a neighboring castle owner, who simply wanted to ensure nothing else would ever happen there. Since then, the structure has served no purpose; it has been, so to speak, petrified.
Climbing 165 meters is no small feat; your arms can get a bit paralyzed with fatigue, even though it is actually fully secured. There is a hell of a wind up there. The antenna is more or less maintained: a state official climbs it annually to replace the red light at the summit to signal the obstacle to civil aviation. That’s about it. There is some contradiction regarding the height—I had always heard 186 meters, but the press headlines say 165 meters. Out of caution, I’ll stick with 165 meters. So, let’s go and climb this beautiful structure; it’s quite the ride!
