I am a fledgling urban explorer. Urban exploration, or urbex in shorthand, is the exploration of man-made structures, usually abandoned ruins or not usually seen components of the man-made environment. Photography and historical interest/documentation are heavily featured in the hobby and it may sometimes involve trespassing onto private property (thanks, Wikipedia!). Urbex is becoming more and more popular as a mainstream travel interest, evident by this year’s induction of cultural industrial complexes to UNESCO’s World Heritage list.
My interest in urbex started with our visit to Chiatura in Georgia last year, and is largely intertwined with my interest in Soviet/Communist era brutal (and largely abandoned) architecture. The former Soviet states are an urban explorers dreams, with many former Soviet military and government buildings empty for the exploring. So when we (let’s be real, when I), started planning our Baltic Road Trip Honeymoon™, I knew urbex would figure prominently into our plans. You can read posts I’ve written on urbex in Estonia in Tallinn and in the nearby Lahemaa National Park.
And while urbex in Estonia was great, the jewel in the Baltic States’ crown of urban exploration is, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the town of Karosta on Latvia’s Baltic coast. Technically a suburb of Liepaja, Latvia’s third largest city, it was the home of military installations of both Tsarist Russia between 1890 and 1906, and later the Soviet Navy’s most important Baltic port. The confluence of tsarist Russian and Soviet influences made the spot very interesting (much like those sites around Tallinn), and made for a great mix of Russian Orthodox and Soviet bloc-style architecture.
Here’s my rundown of the top places to see in Karosta:
The main attraction (or so purported by Lonely Planet) is the Karosta Cietums, or prison. I will be completely transparent here, we did not take the tour of the place required to explore the guts of the place. I am not a fan of forced learning. That said, if you’re into it, the tours get rave reviews, and you can even stay there overnight if you’re so inclined (I like a nice mattress and hot water so…no thank you.) 
The folks there take authenticity to a new level. If you choose to stay overnight, you are treated like a true prisoner. I’m not sure where the appeal lies in this, but then again, one could say the same thing about traipsing around old concrete monoliths in former Soviet states. So I won’t judge.
Another highlight of the area was the cluster of buildings located around the prison. Built in the red brick style of construction visible throughout the Baltics, many are completely empty, but for old booze bottles, decaying evidence of squatting, and budding flora reclaiming space. I think the buildings around the prison were primarily used as warehouses and barracks during the tsarist period. If you go here, make sure to bring gloves and hardy shoes (not Tom’s like yours truly wore) – there are sharp surfaces around, and lots of rust. Also, make sure your tetanus booster is up to date.
Also built during the Tsarist period (in 1898) was the St. Nicholas Orthodox Maritime Cathedral. While not an urbex destination per se, it is impossible to miss if you’re in the area. Gilded in gold as the Russians were wont to do, it’s a spectacular, if not incongruous sight. The juxtaposition of the grandiose orthodox cathedral is in stark contrast to the apartment blocks that surround it. David has long given up on going with me to my various churches and religious monuments (Armenia PTSD, I suppose), so he played outside with a kitty while I walked in and around the structure.
It’s quite obvious which buildings are from the Soviet era – apartment blocks still riddle the town. Karosta at its height was home to over 20,000 people. Today the apartment blocks contain about a quarter of that.
The highlight of the area from an urbex perspective is without a doubt the Northern Forts. They were constructed during the Tsarist period as the Russian Empire’s main line of naval defense on the Baltic. The destruction and decay is extensive and ubiquitous, but not entirely by mother nature. When it was apparent the Russian Empire was to fall, it was purposely destroyed so that it wouldn’t fall into enemy hands.
The forts used to surround the entire port city, but today only skeletons of the former structures remain. There’s a lot of great graffiti art, and the meeting of the sea with industrial concrete is extremely photogenic. The decaying concrete installations are constantly being hammered by the waves of the turbulent Baltic Sea, making for an awesome display of the power of man versus the power of nature. We hung around here for a few hours, doing nothing in particular but gawking at how cool the place was, and exploring empty military structures.
The whole area is a photographers dream – the mix of crumbling concrete and nature is something I’m perpetually drawn to. The town of Karosta itself is a glimpse into Soviet and old Russian culture, while also enlightening to the current state of affairs in the less prosperous parts of Latvia – the suburb today is home to the lower socioeconomic classes of Liepaja. It’s a fascinating place, whether you’re into history, kitschy attractions, urbex, or stunning nature.
Karosta is a must see for any trip to the Baltics, even if you’re not too into the whole urbex scene. It’s an easy drive from Riga to the east, or from Klaipeda and the Curonian Spit in the south (in Lithuania). We didn’t spend the night there, but rather used it as an extended day between Riga and Klaipeda on our road trip. Roads are great if you’re driving, and buses run direct from Riga’s central bus station. I’m not sure about onward public transportation to Lithuania, but imagine it exists, even if less frequent. Public buses in Liepaja run frequently between the main city and the Karosta suburb.
