Urban Exploration - The Cliffside Powerhouse
We received photos from a traveler and compiled them into a historical summary.
It is very early in the morning. A fine, freezing rain bathes the landscape. We are on the outskirts of a large city. When I arrive, I see a long, ascending driveway, a wall to climb, and then a very visible path overlooking the area, leading to the factory perched on the foothills of a cliff.
Climbing the wall takes only a few moments, even though the rain makes everything a bit slippery. As I move toward the factory, a car passes. Of course! It had to be right at that moment, so early in the morning. Consequently, I was inevitably seen. Common sense would suggest I turn back and postpone the project. However, it’s far away, it’s out of the way—in short, I’m going for it. After twenty minutes of total stillness, I begin to think the situation has stabilized; it will be fine.
This is an old factory, abandoned for a very long time. Everything suggests it was related to paper production, but it is far from certain that it was a paper mill as such. Indeed, the premises are too small and too steeply perched on the mountain slopes.
My analysis of the site leads me to believe it was primarily a hydroelectric power station using water power to generate electricity. A massive paper mill is located nearby—at least, within reach of an electric wire, so to speak.
This factory might appear relatively ordinary. However, this morning, what makes it wonderful is quite simply the rain.
Indeed, this factory is majestically overgrown with vegetation. The intimate blend of rust and wet leaves makes every scene terribly aesthetic and formidable in its romanticism. It is an understatement to say that I truly appreciated this place.
On the other hand, I must mention that I found this spot remarkably dangerous, with deep pits hidden by vegetation and rusted, rotting metal sheets covering holes that are barely visible. In short, there is everything one needs to tumble down a dozen meters. As a result, this place is reserved for experienced and sensible people. In any case, the wall that needs to be climbed is quite something. This de facto limits the number of possible visitors.
Leaving the factory, I am truly soaked from head to toe. This could be an occasion to complain, but I am still bathed in the images of this extraordinary place. The encroaching vegetation is reclaiming its rights over this phantasmagorical universe of battered rust. This kind of place might not meet everyone's expectations, but I found it imbued with a terrible romanticism, and I am still shaken by it.
