POWERPLANT T
THE HISTORY:
As with many European sites, the history is scarce and more limited in availability here than in most UK places, so I’ve gathered what I can!
Powerplant T boasted two thermoelectric turbines powered by coal on the site of two other modern power stations. Opened in 1928, this station was supplied with its fuel by a nearby railway – the same one which supplied many other power plants in the Milan region.
The two original turbines were only 35MW each but these were replaced in the mid-1960s with larger turbines.
In 2013, the plant burnt its last piece of coal and it has since been replaced by more modern, efficient and higher capacity gas power plants.
THE EXPLORE:
The experience involved in exploring this place, from start to finish, can only be described as the most horrific, abhorrent and loathsome feat I have ever put myself through for getting into a derp.
Picture the scene: you’re in Italy during the height of the European heatwave, it’s 38 degrees; you’ve been eaten alive by mosquitos the previous few days; you’re living out of a car and haven’t had stable accommodation for days and you get to PowerPlant T only to find that it is occupied by Europe’s biggest swarm of midges. No matter how high you climb, how fast you run or how discretely you hide, you cannot escape them. Like the plague of locusts, they hunt you down and swarm you: the only potential means of escape is within the four seemingly impenetrable walls of the power station ahead of you. Every ounce of steadfast determination and persistence we had was exerted entirely into getting inside, and then it got worse…
Turbigo Power Station from the riverside (creds. Wikimedia Commons)
In our haste to get inside, Alistair had climbed the metal fence put in place to seal the front side of the power station, only to find that it didn’t lead inside after all. The issue arose when it became time to get out and try a different way. The heat had led us all to the point of exhaustion and the height of the climb required combined with the squeeze to fit in was simply too much in the heat. All water supplies had ran dry and we were in a genuine state of desperation. Theo was our man on the outside for this one and after a quick phone call he was on the road to get water and fast. The clock was running out and debilitation was inevitable; we had only a short window of time before we seriously needed to get out of the heat, thanks to the Red Alert for heat in the area we were in at the time. Hurriedly returning, Theo threw the water bottles over the fence into the power station grounds like an old accomplice may throw class A drugs into a prison and Alex choreographically picked up the goods and ran them round to me and Alistair. Following a strategic rest and feeling hydrated, with the help of various scaffolding poles I had sourced from around the site, Alistair squeezed himself out of the deadly gap and we were finally all reunited.
Alas, the challenge was not over. All we had actually achieved was escaping the confines of the power station; we hadn’t actually even got in yet. Deciding to call it a day, we drove off but not before Alistair and I could throw our lovely sweat-drenched shirts in a nearby refuse bin.
We returned the next day with a renewed sense of dedication and fortitude and pushed through the inescapable heat, over the power station fence and, after a while more of searching for access, we were inside the station. It had been a long and painful process, protracted over two long days of tenderness and torment, but we had finally achieved what we set out to and we were another milestone through our nine day trip.
Walking into the turbine hall, all feelings of exhaustion and fatigue subsided as we all collectively took in the ornate orange structure and all of its Italian charm. The lighting inside was absolutely fantastic, owing to the large floor to ceiling windows, interrupted only by one beam part of the way up the wall. Unlike most modern power stations which are simply flat-pack and built for purpose, Turbigo was clearly built with aesthetics in mind and this was shown primarily by its beautiful ceiling arches.
The control room could be seen behind glass from the turbine hall.
Despite our success at getting in, things were about to take a turn for the worse after being inside for only about half an hour…
There are many noises in a bando that we all learn to look past as natural causes of the environment we’re in, but loud drills and diesel engines don’t fit that category. Peering out of the higher windows like school children hiding from their parents, looking down on the ground outside we could see a big cherry picker and forklift truck swan into view. Deposited on top of the forklift truck was a huge stack of metal sheets which we quickly realised in horror were going to be placed over all of the lower windows which served as a means of escape from what had become our fortress.
Characteristically, we decided to take faith in our ingenuity of escape and continued to explore the remainder of the power station we had fought so earnestly to get inside, unfazed by the concealment effort going on outside. Though Turbigo is a relatively small station, the explore was certainly not a quick one. With two equally cool control rooms and a beautiful colour scheme throughout, it was photographic heaven and we spent several hours inside before deciding to retain our liberty and escape.
Certain switch rooms allowed a nice view over the turbine hall from behind the glass.
The main control room matched the colour scheme of the turbine hall.
The second control room was a much more familiar colour of turquoise and was equally well preserved.
The boiler house was much smaller than many power stations, in line with its relatively low productive capacity.
Admin was equally small, though had almost everything left just as it would have when it first closed.
The workers were relentless and clearly did not tire of installing metal sheets over all lower windows over the course of our stay at the Turbigo Hotel and we decided to count our lucky stars and make a dash for it before we lost all will to live again. Upon finding a way out on the opposite side of the building to the workers, I first climbed out and discovered that the way we’d found was not actually as discrete nor as quiet as I’d anticipated. Having made a hell of a racket getting all four of us out, we decided to get off site as quickly as possible. Running across no man’s land the near forty degree heat was not something any of us especially wanted to do, but getting caught on site when we knew that workers were right around the corner was not an option. Diving into what seemed to be somewhat of an underpass or culvert and squeezing through yet another unimaginably tight gap, we were on the other side of the fence and rejoiced at having shown up European security firms once again.
Months later, I can conclusively say that this was genuinely probably the closest I’ve ever been at a bando to being physically annihilated. Thanks primarily to the ruthless and inexorable heat we were persistently met with on both attempts, I will never forget the state of pure desperation and foreboding sense of casualty which lowered over us for several hours during our first attempt.
Finally, I’d like to end this report with a short epilogue noting my conclusion of the two weeks of daily power station reports I’ve been dishing out. Regrettably I am missing the two final days owing to a missing key to the vault, but I suppose good things do come to those who wait.
Seriously though, it is good to be back and active again.
THE HISTORY:
As with many European sites, the history is scarce and more limited in availability here than in most UK places, so I’ve gathered what I can!
Powerplant T boasted two thermoelectric turbines powered by coal on the site of two other modern power stations. Opened in 1928, this station was supplied with its fuel by a nearby railway – the same one which supplied many other power plants in the Milan region.
The two original turbines were only 35MW each but these were replaced in the mid-1960s with larger turbines.
In 2013, the plant burnt its last piece of coal and it has since been replaced by more modern, efficient and higher capacity gas power plants.
THE EXPLORE:
The experience involved in exploring this place, from start to finish, can only be described as the most horrific, abhorrent and loathsome feat I have ever put myself through for getting into a derp.
Picture the scene: you’re in Italy during the height of the European heatwave, it’s 38 degrees; you’ve been eaten alive by mosquitos the previous few days; you’re living out of a car and haven’t had stable accommodation for days and you get to PowerPlant T only to find that it is occupied by Europe’s biggest swarm of midges. No matter how high you climb, how fast you run or how discretely you hide, you cannot escape them. Like the plague of locusts, they hunt you down and swarm you: the only potential means of escape is within the four seemingly impenetrable walls of the power station ahead of you. Every ounce of steadfast determination and persistence we had was exerted entirely into getting inside, and then it got worse…
Turbigo Power Station from the riverside (creds. Wikimedia Commons)
In our haste to get inside, Alistair had climbed the metal fence put in place to seal the front side of the power station, only to find that it didn’t lead inside after all. The issue arose when it became time to get out and try a different way. The heat had led us all to the point of exhaustion and the height of the climb required combined with the squeeze to fit in was simply too much in the heat. All water supplies had ran dry and we were in a genuine state of desperation. Theo was our man on the outside for this one and after a quick phone call he was on the road to get water and fast. The clock was running out and debilitation was inevitable; we had only a short window of time before we seriously needed to get out of the heat, thanks to the Red Alert for heat in the area we were in at the time. Hurriedly returning, Theo threw the water bottles over the fence into the power station grounds like an old accomplice may throw class A drugs into a prison and Alex choreographically picked up the goods and ran them round to me and Alistair. Following a strategic rest and feeling hydrated, with the help of various scaffolding poles I had sourced from around the site, Alistair squeezed himself out of the deadly gap and we were finally all reunited.
Alas, the challenge was not over. All we had actually achieved was escaping the confines of the power station; we hadn’t actually even got in yet. Deciding to call it a day, we drove off but not before Alistair and I could throw our lovely sweat-drenched shirts in a nearby refuse bin.
We returned the next day with a renewed sense of dedication and fortitude and pushed through the inescapable heat, over the power station fence and, after a while more of searching for access, we were inside the station. It had been a long and painful process, protracted over two long days of tenderness and torment, but we had finally achieved what we set out to and we were another milestone through our nine day trip.
Walking into the turbine hall, all feelings of exhaustion and fatigue subsided as we all collectively took in the ornate orange structure and all of its Italian charm. The lighting inside was absolutely fantastic, owing to the large floor to ceiling windows, interrupted only by one beam part of the way up the wall. Unlike most modern power stations which are simply flat-pack and built for purpose, Turbigo was clearly built with aesthetics in mind and this was shown primarily by its beautiful ceiling arches.
The control room could be seen behind glass from the turbine hall.
Despite our success at getting in, things were about to take a turn for the worse after being inside for only about half an hour…
There are many noises in a bando that we all learn to look past as natural causes of the environment we’re in, but loud drills and diesel engines don’t fit that category. Peering out of the higher windows like school children hiding from their parents, looking down on the ground outside we could see a big cherry picker and forklift truck swan into view. Deposited on top of the forklift truck was a huge stack of metal sheets which we quickly realised in horror were going to be placed over all of the lower windows which served as a means of escape from what had become our fortress.
Characteristically, we decided to take faith in our ingenuity of escape and continued to explore the remainder of the power station we had fought so earnestly to get inside, unfazed by the concealment effort going on outside. Though Turbigo is a relatively small station, the explore was certainly not a quick one. With two equally cool control rooms and a beautiful colour scheme throughout, it was photographic heaven and we spent several hours inside before deciding to retain our liberty and escape.
Certain switch rooms allowed a nice view over the turbine hall from behind the glass.
The main control room matched the colour scheme of the turbine hall.
The second control room was a much more familiar colour of turquoise and was equally well preserved.
The boiler house was much smaller than many power stations, in line with its relatively low productive capacity.
Admin was equally small, though had almost everything left just as it would have when it first closed.
The workers were relentless and clearly did not tire of installing metal sheets over all lower windows over the course of our stay at the Turbigo Hotel and we decided to count our lucky stars and make a dash for it before we lost all will to live again. Upon finding a way out on the opposite side of the building to the workers, I first climbed out and discovered that the way we’d found was not actually as discrete nor as quiet as I’d anticipated. Having made a hell of a racket getting all four of us out, we decided to get off site as quickly as possible. Running across no man’s land the near forty degree heat was not something any of us especially wanted to do, but getting caught on site when we knew that workers were right around the corner was not an option. Diving into what seemed to be somewhat of an underpass or culvert and squeezing through yet another unimaginably tight gap, we were on the other side of the fence and rejoiced at having shown up European security firms once again.
Months later, I can conclusively say that this was genuinely probably the closest I’ve ever been at a bando to being physically annihilated. Thanks primarily to the ruthless and inexorable heat we were persistently met with on both attempts, I will never forget the state of pure desperation and foreboding sense of casualty which lowered over us for several hours during our first attempt.
Finally, I’d like to end this report with a short epilogue noting my conclusion of the two weeks of daily power station reports I’ve been dishing out. Regrettably I am missing the two final days owing to a missing key to the vault, but I suppose good things do come to those who wait.
Seriously though, it is good to be back and active again.
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