Most people who take excursions to the coast will maybe take nice long strolls along the beach, make sandcastles, buy ice cream, and get shat on by seaguls, and then wash it off in the sea in all the fish piss. Not me! I go there for the cold war ruins! While searching initially for a nuclear bunker, I came instead across an old Cold War radar facility, known more formally as a Rotor Station.
Following the end of World War 2 in 1945, the powers-that-be calmly sipped their tea and estimated that it would be at least a decade before another major conflict. Then in 1949 the Soviets did a nuclear test, and everyone spat out their tea, and had to rapidly come to terms with the fact that a potential enemy superpower now had its hands on the deadliest of mankinds creations.
The Cold War was somewhat lacking in actual combat. However the tension between countries was so severe that a nuclear apocalypse seemed like a completely realistic outcome, and plans were put forward to protect against it. The UKs radar system had been run down towards the end of the second world war, to the point that it was considered completely inadequate to deal with the new threat, and so began a complete overhaul of it, under the codename "Rotor."
The project was massive, with a huge quantity of manpower, resources and funds going into manufacturing more efficient radar technology. The efforts, while costly, saw vast improvements in reliability, maintainability and performance, with the range often more than doubling.
This beautiful ruin is one such Rotor Station, high up on a hill, overlooking the sea around the British Isles. It also allegedly once had a gun turret which could apparently fire up to five kilometers out to sea.
Pretty much all Rotor Stations were coastal, due to the potential threat coming from overseas, with the more extravagant stations being on the East coast, because that's probably the direction that the Russians would come from. The radar here would detect enemy aircraft, and communicate their findings to other facilities, who would then deal with the incoming threat.
Classified as a super priority, the Rotor program was set to be completed by 1957.
Today, it's rather neglected. But it's pretty important in that it survived a lot longer than most Rotor facilities, being constructed in 1953 and finally closing in 1958. That might seem like a short period of time for a project that was considered a high priority, but the Cold War just kept escalating. In 1955, the Soviets developed their H-Bomb, and supersonic high flying bombers, and these advances made the Rotor Stations instantly redundant, given that exercises had proven that communication between multiple posts was a slow process- too slow to keep up with a supersonic Russian bomber.
This led to another overhaul, with the creation of advanced master radar systems, where warning and control could be handled and dealt with from one site, with a superior range. As such, the multiple rotor stations scattered around the British coast fell into disuse, many before they'd even been completed. This was one of the lucky ones.
And we were lucky for getting in! Let's see what we've got!
In the reception area was a dusty old sofa, facing the corner. This was likely here when the facility was operational, having been left here for decades.
This here is the original generator, clearly a vintage design but with aspects hinting at more modern restoration, which means it likely still works!
And here's the reason why! It seems that at some point someone converted a portion of this building into a shooting range! How cool is this? It all seems to have been added post-Cold War, but nevertheless, it's nice to see that this place has spent the decades as more than just a coastal ruin.
Sadly, or perhaps luckily, there were no firearms left here.
The building descended down into lower areas which I understand would have served as a bunker for those stationed here years ago. The bars over the doorway make it particularly eerie.
It's all pretty bleak and empty now, but deliciously creepy. Imagine this perfectly furnished and reminiscent of the 1950s, and turned into a living space for people waiting out the apocalypse. Who knows? Perhaps if I'd come just five years earlier I would have found a time capsule.
This has to be the worlds thinnest urinal. It's still in better condition than the toilets in some pubs and clubs though. But look at the window! This place is actually bricked up! Someone wanted to make sure that nobody ever got in. Whoopsie!
Making our way back outside, we decided to check out a small building higher up the hill.
Its the Rotor stations old radar plinth! The radar would have been on the roof, scanning for approaching enemy aircraft, should any be out there.
Now there's just a gaping hole where the radar would have been mounted, but I did a quick search and found a diagram of what this adorable little ruin would have once looked like.
The interior of this building would have been filled with a generator and the radar equipment.
Some cute graffiti here. Someone has written some of the lyrics to "Feeling Good" on a bottle. Someone else has come along and decided that they don't like fish.
And while the radar would have been visible from the town below, the view from up here is spectacular.
Long time viewers will know I love a good view, but this is something else. Naturally, for a radar to be at its most efficient, it needed to be as high as possible, and this is the highest spot in the area.
And naturally, with the height being advantageous for communication during the Cold War, the closure of the Rotor station didn't mean that this place was going to rot quietly. In 1961, a ROC bunker was established here, now sitting in a fenced off compound.
This was my real reason for coming up here, but sadly it was locked. This actually makes me doubly happy to have managed to get into the Rotor station. It wasn't a wasted trek up the hills.
For those who don't know, ROC is an acronym for Royal Observer Corps, and these bunkers were created in the 1960s all over the UK. Their purpose was to monitor for nuclear blasts and communicate with other facilities while also providing safety and accomodation to the staff in the event of the apocalypse.
This hatch leads to a fifteen foot ladder into a small room with ensuite toilet. The toilet is pretty much a bucket with a seat, but it's still better than the toilets in some pubs and clubs. Anyway, this particular bunker has a padlock on the hatch, and since I never force entry, I didn't go down there. But they have a pretty standard universal design. It is the decades after the cold war that have given these beauties a unique story. Some are immaculate, and some are wrecked. Some are somewhere in the middle.
If you want to see what this one might look like, click a link and see what you get.
Also nearby were these stairs, no doubt originally designed to access the facility on foot, but now partially buried under the countryside.
That's all I have for this blog post. I'm very lucky to have gotten in to the Rotor station, and with more and more cold war buildings falling into more modern use or being left for nature to take, it's great to have a chance to see and document these monuments. It was a fascinating time in humanities history, at least in my opinion.
Next blog post, I'm slowly making my way back to Shropshire after my scurry around everywhere else, but first I'm checking out a derelict police station, and after that I'm going to try and squeeze out another rooftopping blog. But in the meantime, share this blog wherever you want, and also check me out on Jess's youtube, my youtube, my Instagram, my Twitter aaaand like my Facebook.
Thanks for reading!
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