The History
Kelenfold Power Station was one of the best in the world when it was built from 1912 to 1914. The building was of unusually modern design for its age, and led the way both in terms of its electricity output (the largest in the world at the time) and in terms of its architecture. The original power station was designed by Kálmán Reichl, and would have been originally powered by coal as was the norm (eventually switching to gas in more recent years). There's some excellent stuff written about this place online and the exquisite attention to detail that went into its design. The control room was added c.1927-1929 and is an early example of Art Deco at its finest, courtesy of modernist architect Virgil Bierbauer who also designed the city's Art Deco Budaörs Airport. It is not entirely clear which sections of the old power station were the original construction and which were part of Virgil's alterations, but the turbine hall has a definite Art Deco look to it so this was probably also his work. Given that the power station was a piece of key infrastructure, it posed as a vulnerable target during WW2 and the control room's glass ceiling was certainly not going to do much to stop an Allied bomb. Therefore, a ridiculously cool concrete bomb shelter was constructed within the control room to shelter its operators. The old power station ceased production around 2005, although a modern industrial unit connected to the same building is still in operation. A few years ago the turbine hall was some form of museum which looked amazing, and the control room later opened for tours, but recently has been sealed only to open every so often as a film set.
The Mission
Being such an iconic location, it is hard to not have eventually stumbled across an image of the Kelenfold power station control room. However, I never thought in a million years it was somewhere I'd get to see. Not only was it abroad (I hadn't made a concerted effort to explore abroad before besides some chance discoveries), but it was also of such a nice calibre I thought surely it must have been either long gone or locked tight. After deciding that the destination for my group of friends' summer holiday would be Budapest, I started looking online at what we could see. It wasn't going to be a pure exploration holiday, so I wanted to have just a few good places lined up. At first, Kelenfold was a bit of a pipe dream, but I started researching it out of curiosity. This would be the start of several months of studying the place and planning the access as much as is possible with the powers of the internet. Myself and one other member of the group, who were most keen on seeing it, ended up familiarising the route with maps, images, videos and anything we could find, down to what felt like a military-level of precision. Of course, this could all be learnt far quicker with a recce but because we lived on the other side of Europe we had to learn as much as possible about it in advance.
A few 35mm of Soviet-era apartment blocks I snapped on the journey. Homes like these had their electricity powered by the station over its long lifespan.
We finally arrived on a sunny afternoon after having explored the Istvantelek train yard and getting caught up in a beer garden. This meant we were chasing daylight a bit so we had to get to Kelenfold sharpish. The nervousness about not giving ourselves enough time and what we were about to attempt started to set in. Another complication of the explore was that given that I had gone away with a group of five, it was no small party. I made it clear in advance that and that if anyone wasn't down they didn't have to do it and we'd all have to be committed because it was a pretty risky operation, but try telling a few lads that after a few cocktails and the whole thing becomes typically a lot less structured.
Next thing I know, we're entering the park adjacent to the power station (which looks pretty active from the road), and notice that even the bloody park has a security guard in a booth. Hoping for the best, we passed out of sight and made our entrance exactly as the preparation had planned. What I didn't realise was how close it was still to the park and I could see cyclists and pedestrians passing only a few metres from us hiding in the bushes. Running for the building, we managed to enter. One of our mates accidentally knocked something on the way in making a very loud bang. I knew I shouldn't have brought them all! We found ourselves in the dark underbelly of the original power station which was one 'blind spot' in our prep. As we were waiting in the central space, suddenly a stern Hungarian voice called in and echoed through the building. It felt like we were in an old James Bond video game and had just been spotted by a Soviet guard. We remained crouched in the darkness in silence. Surely it can't all end here so close yet so far. I've never been so thankful to not know the language when going abroad, as I was told several months later it was saying 'we saw you, we will call the police'.
After letting a few minutes pass and being doubtful they hadn't heard any echoes, we suddenly decided to make a break for a dark door. Somehow, nothing more was said. We all ended up huddled in the entrance feeling for our torch, as we realised there was a dip in the ground and lots of rusty debris. Obviously no aerial photography was going to help us with the inside layout, so we found ourselves having to search around the maze-like structure in the dark keeping phone torches dipped on the lowest setting if completely off. I think we went in every wrong space possible. Whilst the few more experienced members were tip-toeing around in dead silence, at one point Mr. Clumsy made another bang as he fell into a hole, but fortunately managed to catch himself. Thank christ there were no broken legs. We realised we'd taken a dead end so I decided to scout ahead alone. Heart racing and sweat dripping, I finally found the way into the rest of the building and gathered the others. This was sketchy, and it involved a degree physical prowess to navigate without giving too much away. We were now so close to the control room, but the way we had gone involved a final difficult obstacle we decided we would try and avoid by scouting the rest of the building. Two of us went ahead and first spotted the control room's glass roof from the outside, figuring out what floor we'd need to be on. I wish I'd photographed the other rooms as there was some interesting stuff, but the circumstances didn't allow. We then worked our way down when suddenly my friend in front stopped as we reached a doorway. 'Woah'. As we turned the corner, we were met by the eerie green glow of the sublime Art Deco control room's skylight. The two of us just stood there in awe. We'd done it.
Now we had to get back to the others to guide them, so there was still some uncertainty in the air. I quickly took a photo on my awful phone incase we never saw it again, just to prove that it wasn't all a dream. Thankfully, it was easier than expected and we managed to find and direct the others without too much hassle. I set the tripod up as it was now getting quite gloomy outside, and took a few exposures from different angles. We then had a tentative look round, amazed at all the switches and dials which still clicked back and forward echoing throughout the cavernous room. I could've spent so much longer here but we didn't want to push our luck or leave it till darkness to exit, so after maybe 15-20 minutes we decided to say goodbye. Getting out was easier as we knew the way now, but there were still some obstacles to come.
35mm film shot
Crossing the large drained water reservoir, we ducked and swept through the foliage which had overgrown its edges. This unfortunately swept my friend's glasses off, which proceeded to fall many metres down into the concrete pit. There was no way we were getting them back, so we pressed on now with somewhat worse collective vision than when we came in. As we exited, I noticed the park guard type person pass right past us. He didn't look or ackowledge us, so I assumed he hadn't seen us. Then as we had all made it out, we heard the stern voice calling from behind. It was the ranger! I reckon he played it dumb to pretend he hadn't seen us, then waited for us on the exit. Once again, we didn't understand a word of him other than 'stupide' - I personally think it was one of the wisest things I've ever done. With him following right behind, we simply ignored him and swiftly walked off into the night. Still power-walking several blocks away, we made a b-line for the nearest tram station. On the way I realised I hadn't eaten anything other than a budget McDonalds burger that morning and I started feeling unusually dizzy. I'm guessing by blood sugar had dropped after the insane levels of exertion, but luckily the boys sorted me out with some fruit water they had. We got on the soonest tram and sat there in disbelief, covered in dirt and soot, but we had not a care in the world for we had done it.
35mm film shot of the ride home (or similar)
Our arms, hands and faces were absolutley covered
Kelenfold Power Station was one of the best in the world when it was built from 1912 to 1914. The building was of unusually modern design for its age, and led the way both in terms of its electricity output (the largest in the world at the time) and in terms of its architecture. The original power station was designed by Kálmán Reichl, and would have been originally powered by coal as was the norm (eventually switching to gas in more recent years). There's some excellent stuff written about this place online and the exquisite attention to detail that went into its design. The control room was added c.1927-1929 and is an early example of Art Deco at its finest, courtesy of modernist architect Virgil Bierbauer who also designed the city's Art Deco Budaörs Airport. It is not entirely clear which sections of the old power station were the original construction and which were part of Virgil's alterations, but the turbine hall has a definite Art Deco look to it so this was probably also his work. Given that the power station was a piece of key infrastructure, it posed as a vulnerable target during WW2 and the control room's glass ceiling was certainly not going to do much to stop an Allied bomb. Therefore, a ridiculously cool concrete bomb shelter was constructed within the control room to shelter its operators. The old power station ceased production around 2005, although a modern industrial unit connected to the same building is still in operation. A few years ago the turbine hall was some form of museum which looked amazing, and the control room later opened for tours, but recently has been sealed only to open every so often as a film set.
The Mission
Being such an iconic location, it is hard to not have eventually stumbled across an image of the Kelenfold power station control room. However, I never thought in a million years it was somewhere I'd get to see. Not only was it abroad (I hadn't made a concerted effort to explore abroad before besides some chance discoveries), but it was also of such a nice calibre I thought surely it must have been either long gone or locked tight. After deciding that the destination for my group of friends' summer holiday would be Budapest, I started looking online at what we could see. It wasn't going to be a pure exploration holiday, so I wanted to have just a few good places lined up. At first, Kelenfold was a bit of a pipe dream, but I started researching it out of curiosity. This would be the start of several months of studying the place and planning the access as much as is possible with the powers of the internet. Myself and one other member of the group, who were most keen on seeing it, ended up familiarising the route with maps, images, videos and anything we could find, down to what felt like a military-level of precision. Of course, this could all be learnt far quicker with a recce but because we lived on the other side of Europe we had to learn as much as possible about it in advance.
A few 35mm of Soviet-era apartment blocks I snapped on the journey. Homes like these had their electricity powered by the station over its long lifespan.
We finally arrived on a sunny afternoon after having explored the Istvantelek train yard and getting caught up in a beer garden. This meant we were chasing daylight a bit so we had to get to Kelenfold sharpish. The nervousness about not giving ourselves enough time and what we were about to attempt started to set in. Another complication of the explore was that given that I had gone away with a group of five, it was no small party. I made it clear in advance that and that if anyone wasn't down they didn't have to do it and we'd all have to be committed because it was a pretty risky operation, but try telling a few lads that after a few cocktails and the whole thing becomes typically a lot less structured.
Next thing I know, we're entering the park adjacent to the power station (which looks pretty active from the road), and notice that even the bloody park has a security guard in a booth. Hoping for the best, we passed out of sight and made our entrance exactly as the preparation had planned. What I didn't realise was how close it was still to the park and I could see cyclists and pedestrians passing only a few metres from us hiding in the bushes. Running for the building, we managed to enter. One of our mates accidentally knocked something on the way in making a very loud bang. I knew I shouldn't have brought them all! We found ourselves in the dark underbelly of the original power station which was one 'blind spot' in our prep. As we were waiting in the central space, suddenly a stern Hungarian voice called in and echoed through the building. It felt like we were in an old James Bond video game and had just been spotted by a Soviet guard. We remained crouched in the darkness in silence. Surely it can't all end here so close yet so far. I've never been so thankful to not know the language when going abroad, as I was told several months later it was saying 'we saw you, we will call the police'.
After letting a few minutes pass and being doubtful they hadn't heard any echoes, we suddenly decided to make a break for a dark door. Somehow, nothing more was said. We all ended up huddled in the entrance feeling for our torch, as we realised there was a dip in the ground and lots of rusty debris. Obviously no aerial photography was going to help us with the inside layout, so we found ourselves having to search around the maze-like structure in the dark keeping phone torches dipped on the lowest setting if completely off. I think we went in every wrong space possible. Whilst the few more experienced members were tip-toeing around in dead silence, at one point Mr. Clumsy made another bang as he fell into a hole, but fortunately managed to catch himself. Thank christ there were no broken legs. We realised we'd taken a dead end so I decided to scout ahead alone. Heart racing and sweat dripping, I finally found the way into the rest of the building and gathered the others. This was sketchy, and it involved a degree physical prowess to navigate without giving too much away. We were now so close to the control room, but the way we had gone involved a final difficult obstacle we decided we would try and avoid by scouting the rest of the building. Two of us went ahead and first spotted the control room's glass roof from the outside, figuring out what floor we'd need to be on. I wish I'd photographed the other rooms as there was some interesting stuff, but the circumstances didn't allow. We then worked our way down when suddenly my friend in front stopped as we reached a doorway. 'Woah'. As we turned the corner, we were met by the eerie green glow of the sublime Art Deco control room's skylight. The two of us just stood there in awe. We'd done it.
Now we had to get back to the others to guide them, so there was still some uncertainty in the air. I quickly took a photo on my awful phone incase we never saw it again, just to prove that it wasn't all a dream. Thankfully, it was easier than expected and we managed to find and direct the others without too much hassle. I set the tripod up as it was now getting quite gloomy outside, and took a few exposures from different angles. We then had a tentative look round, amazed at all the switches and dials which still clicked back and forward echoing throughout the cavernous room. I could've spent so much longer here but we didn't want to push our luck or leave it till darkness to exit, so after maybe 15-20 minutes we decided to say goodbye. Getting out was easier as we knew the way now, but there were still some obstacles to come.
35mm film shot
Crossing the large drained water reservoir, we ducked and swept through the foliage which had overgrown its edges. This unfortunately swept my friend's glasses off, which proceeded to fall many metres down into the concrete pit. There was no way we were getting them back, so we pressed on now with somewhat worse collective vision than when we came in. As we exited, I noticed the park guard type person pass right past us. He didn't look or ackowledge us, so I assumed he hadn't seen us. Then as we had all made it out, we heard the stern voice calling from behind. It was the ranger! I reckon he played it dumb to pretend he hadn't seen us, then waited for us on the exit. Once again, we didn't understand a word of him other than 'stupide' - I personally think it was one of the wisest things I've ever done. With him following right behind, we simply ignored him and swiftly walked off into the night. Still power-walking several blocks away, we made a b-line for the nearest tram station. On the way I realised I hadn't eaten anything other than a budget McDonalds burger that morning and I started feeling unusually dizzy. I'm guessing by blood sugar had dropped after the insane levels of exertion, but luckily the boys sorted me out with some fruit water they had. We got on the soonest tram and sat there in disbelief, covered in dirt and soot, but we had not a care in the world for we had done it.
35mm film shot of the ride home (or similar)
Our arms, hands and faces were absolutley covered
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