ROC bunker

(Disclaimer: Joking aside, I fully understand the risks/dangers involved in these adventures and do so in the full knowledge of what could happen. I don't encourage or condone and I accept no responsibility for anyone else following in my footsteps. Under UK law, trespass without force is a civil offence. I never break into a place, I never photograph a place that is currently occupied, as this would be morally wrong and intrusive, I never take any items and I never cause any damage, as such no criminal offences have been committed in the making of this blog. I will not disclose location.  I leave the building as I find it and only enter to take photographs for my own pleasure and to document the building.

 Upon seeking out this nuclear monitoring bunker in the remote countryside, I was approached by a group of humans clad in garments that expects (or expected) to see on the guests of Jeremy Kyle. As such I was initially apprehensive. However, they turned out to be quite nice, and cheerfully asked if I was here to see "the bunker," but warned me that it wasn't as pretty as it was in the past.

Isn't that great? This adventure is a refreshing lesson in judging a book by its cover. Personally I loathe generalisations, and try to avoid them, but they're so easy to do! If you see me with a broken nose, don't assume that I've been in a fight, it's just the work of constant facepalming as I fuck up again and again! All it takes is a couple of bad experiences to form a bias, and suddenly we're judging people for the actions of others, and I try to be better than that.

I told the humans that I could guess what it used to look like. After all I've been to around thirty of these now. They're sprinkled all over the British countryside. Perhaps you live near one and don't even know it. The group was genuinely interested as I explained to them what the bunker was, and that there was a thousand more out there, some in great condition, some trashed, some annoyingly sealed off from the world forever, and others being used by landowners. It's a real gamble going out to these places, which is why I tend to add them on to other adventures rather than travel out specifically for them.

I showed the folks some of my pictures from other ROC bunkers, mostly this one because it's the cleanest, and they were genuinely fascinated, not the ignorant yobs I assumed they would be. It's great to be proven wrong. Generalisations are stupid.

One of the guys waved a bong at me before he left and said "By the way, I literally found this in there. It's totally not mine. I'm just cleaning the place up a bit. I'm going to throw it in the bin."
I told him not to worry, because I don't care. Personally I don't partake in the devils lettuce myself, but if you're hurting nobody, then live and let live. It honestly baffles me how angry people get over the things other people do that doesn't effect them. Like gay marriage, for example. If you're against gay marriage, don't get gay married. Duh!I promise you now that you'll be 100% less stressed if you just focus on doing what makes you happy and let everyone else get on with what makes them happy.

Admittedly, I wasn't too keen on climbing down into a bunker that smelled of weed, but here's some pudding to go with the good points I've fed you- Climbing down that ladder, knowing what had gone on, was my choice. If I didn't enjoy it, it would be my fault.

Nuclear Monitoring Bunkers, or ROC posts, are basically little subterranean offices that were once operated by the Royal Observer Corps during the Cold War. This particular one opened in 1962 and was operational right up until 1991. With the threat of armageddon considered a very real possibility in the world following the second world war, things were pretty tense. Across the UK these little underground structures were installed, each equipped to monitor for nuclear blasts and communicate the findings. They also had beds, food rations, and a toilet, in the event that a nuclear strike did happen. Most of them had two bunk beds, but I have found some with three beds. Here's a basic diagram of them that I found on the internet. They had a pretty standard design so this diagram applies to pretty much all of them.

I also found this one which has less detail on the interior but has a pretty firework display.

So you get the idea. They all looked like this- a fourteen foot access ladder, beds at one end, and a desk with all the monitoring and communication equipment down the length of the facility, with some shelves next to the door. The beauty of these things is that even though their design has uniformity, history has shaped them all uniquely. Some are pristine. Some are immaculately preserved. This one, however...

Well, the shelves have survived at least.

Personally, I wasn't expecting much from this one, even if the tracksuit-clad humans outside hadn't told me that there wasn't much left. There's no longer a hatch, which means it's exposed to the elements, and if all the locals know about it, it's only a matter of time before some wazzock with a box of matches gets a little overzealous. It happened at Church Stretton too. This is why I don't point out where they are in my blogs anymore. I think I did with the first two I went to, but luckily the second one was Church Stretton, and its burnt out husk was a real eye opener.

Nevertheless, while the dream is always to find that perfectly preserved ROC post, I appreciate them all, in every variation of decay I find them in. I also appreciate the effort put in by those who worked here. After all, it was a tense era in human history, and really, some of these places have three beds in them. Three! And look at the size of it! Those are some mighty cramped living conditions for these people. I'm not sure I could do it.

Imagine being stationed here with two of your most annoying work colleagues in the event of a nuclear strike. Quite frankly I'd rather die on the surface than live down here with them.
Unless, of course, I added them to the food rations...

Switches and stuff still adorn the walls.

This is an old hand pump. It would have had a far longer handle, and it would have pumped water back out of the bunker to prevent flooding.

This little cupboard would have had a toilet, which was basically a bucket with a seat. If you think being stuck down here with your most annoying work colleagues sounds bad, try it with a toilet that doesn't flush.

That's all I have for this. Unfortunately nuclear monitoring bunkers make for short blog posts. However, I love them, and I will continue to write about them when I come across them.
Having done two blogs now on the Cold War, I'll be blogging about a couple of abandoned train stations next, and then over on my home blog I'll be looking at a train graveyard.
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Thanks for reading!