Overview
Stats
About Zethrus
Beep boop.
Followers
Following
Collections (9)
Bunkers
Bye Felicia
Farms
Hospitals
Houses
Industrial
Misc
Private Locations
Unique Coordinates
My Gallery Photos (0)
Zethrus hasn’t added any photos yet.
Pin Photos (158)
Zethrus hasn't uploaded photos to any pins yet.
Badges
-
Seasoned ExplorerUploaded a total of 100 pins to Urbex PlanetEarned 10/22/2025 -
Halloween 2025Awarded to explorers who were active during the spooky season of Halloween 2025. A limited-time commemorative badge for those brave enough to explore haunted locations! 👻🎃Earned 10/27/2025 -
CChristmas 2025Awarded to users active between Dec 20th and Dec 31st of 2025.Earned 12/20/2025
-
NNew Year 2026Awarded to users active on Dec 31st or Jan 1st.Earned 12/30/2025
Submitted Locations (47)
| Name | Description | Visibility | Collection |
|---|---|---|---|
|
Submitted Nov 6, 2025 at 5:01 PM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:47 AM
• 3 months ago
|
Straddling the dusty fringes of Highway 97 in Vernon, British Columbia's sun-drenched Okanagan corridor, this weathered sentinel; a modest gray stucco outpost with a pitched roof and sagging portico; hunkers like a forgotten pit stop from the valley's trucking heyday. Likely a roadside shop or service shack born in the postwar boom, it once buzzed with the clatter of travelers fueling up, its double doors swinging to hawk sundries or quick fixes under the watchful gaze of Swan Lake's distant shimmer. But as big-box sprawl eclipsed the mom-and-pops and traffic thundered on, it shuttered its fate with a stark "CLOSED" placard, surrendering to the creep of thistles and cheatgrass that now choke its threshold, while a lone blue dumpster squats like a mocking tombstone beside rusted utility poles and the skeletal hulks of shipping containers. Urban explorers threading BC's vein of forgotten byways will unearth a compact elegy to transience here: nudge past the splintered awning to frame the graffiti-flecked facade against the hulking forms of nearby warehouses, or circle the perimeter where wild sunflowers claw through cracked concrete, the air humming with the phantom diesel growl of semis on the overpass. A subtle canvas for your shutter to capture the quiet insurgency of weeds reclaiming what commerce cast aside, all under skies that stretch eternally blue and indifferent. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 5, 2025 at 2:49 PM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:47 AM
• 3 months ago
|
Perched on the stark, wind-scoured plains of north-central Montana, roughly 25 miles northwest of Ledger amid the endless ripple of golden prairie grass, the Safeguard Montana Complex looms as a colossal monument to Cold War paranoia and hasty abandonment. Conceived in the late 1960s as a bulwark in the U.S. Army's anti-ballistic missile shield, this remote outpost; dubbed the Perimeter Acquisition Radar site, was meant to scan Soviet skies and safeguard nearby Minuteman silos at Malmstrom Air Force Base. Billions poured into its foundations before the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty slammed the brakes, leaving the project a mere 10% complete: a gargantuan, unfinished pyramid of weathered concrete rises like a ziggurat from another era, its truncated second level scarred by rebar skeletons, flanked by derelict power plants, cavernous heat sinks, and skeletal barracks that whisper of a workforce that vanished overnight. Urban explorers drawn to this "million-dollar f#@k up" of governmental hubris will find a labyrinth of rust and regret, where the low howl of Montana winds funnels through shattered ventilation shafts and graffiti blooms like defiant wildflowers on blast doors long sealed against phantom threats. Ascend the precarious catwalks for panoramic views of isolation unbroken save for distant oil derricks, or delve into the subterranean bowels where echoes of radar hums mingle with the drip of infiltrating meltwater, unearthing faded blueprints and rusted consoles that once dreamed of intercepting Armageddon. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Nov 5, 2025 at 12:45 PM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:47 AM
• 3 months ago
|
Nestled in the windswept prairies of Saskatchewan, approximately 50 kilometers northeast of Saskatoon along Highway 41, the ghost town of Smuts stands as a poignant relic of rural ambition and inevitable decline. Once a bustling community of around 200 souls in the early 20th century, drawn by the promise of fertile farmland and Ukrainian immigrant heritage, Smuts thrived on grain elevators, a general store, and the rhythmic hum of daily life. But as economic shifts and mechanized agriculture hollowed out small towns across the Canadian plains, residents drifted away, leaving behind a skeletal landscape of weathered homesteads, crumbling barns, and the solitary sentinel of St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church; its onion-domed silhouette a haunting nod to the faith that anchored the settlers. For urban explorers, Smuts offers a raw, unfiltered portal to the past, where the creak of rusted gates and the whisper of buffalo grass through shattered windows evoke stories untold. Tread carefully among the abandoned cabins scattered like forgotten dreams across endless fields, where graffiti tags mingle with faded wallpaper peels, and the vast sky presses down like a forgotten memory. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 31, 2025 at 6:59 AM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:46 AM
• 3 months ago
|
Bodie, California, is a legendary gold rush ghost town located in the Bodie Hills east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Mono County, about 75 miles southeast of Lake Tahoe. Discovered in 1859 by prospector W.S. Bodey—who perished in a blizzard before seeing its success—the site exploded into a booming mining camp after rich gold strikes in 1876, attracting up to 10,000 residents by 1879 with over 2,000 buildings, including 65 saloons, opium dens, a red-light district, and a Wells Fargo bank, earning a reputation for lawlessness, gunfights, and harsh winters. During its peak from 1877 to 1881, Bodie's mines produced nearly $34 million in gold and silver, making it one of California's most productive sites, supported by innovative technologies like the Standard Mill for ore processing. The town's decline began in the 1880s due to depleted veins, economic downturns, and devastating fires in 1892 and 1932 that razed much of the community, reducing the population to a few hundred by the early 1900s and labeling it a ghost town by 1915. Mining ceased entirely by 1942, and the last residents departed in the 1950s, leaving Bodie abandoned until it was designated a California State Historic Park in 1962 and a National Historic Landmark in 1961. Today, preserved in a state of "arrested decay" with about 170 weathered buildings, including homes, a schoolhouse, church, and jail. Bodie attracts over 200,000 visitors annually to explore its eerie, time capsule atmosphere, accessible year-round via State Route 270. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 29, 2025 at 5:56 AM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:45 AM
• 3 months ago
|
An underground bunker at the former Naval Station Argentia near Placentia, Newfoundland, is believed by some to be a World War II-era hospital, but it was actually the base's secret Command and Control (CNC) center. The bunker is an abandoned two- or three-story reinforced concrete structure that is now a popular spot for urban explorers. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 29, 2025 at 5:51 AM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:45 AM
• 3 months ago
|
The old CBC Broadcasting Station in St. John's, Newfoundland, was located at 342 Duckworth Street. The art deco building housed CBC Radio operations, including the famous Studio F, for over 50 years before being vacated in 2007. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 28, 2025 at 6:48 AM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 15, 2026 at 11:13 PM
• 3 months ago
|
Uranium City is a remote northern Saskatchewan community on the shore of Lake Athabasca, approximately 760 km northwest of Prince Albert and 48 km south of the Northwest Territories border. Established in 1952 by the provincial government, it served as a central hub for Eldorado Mining and Refining’s uranium operations in the Beaverlodge mining district. Driven by Cold War demand and post-war exploration, the town rapidly grew from tent camps to a thriving settlement of nearly 10,000 residents by the 1960s, featuring schools, a hospital, an airport, and over a dozen active mines—including Gunnar and Lorado—supplying uranium for Canada’s CANDU reactors after military priorities shifted. The 1982 closure of the flagship Beaverlodge Mine, due to high costs, low ore grades, and a declining market, triggered a sudden collapse, reducing the population to under 400 within months and leaving a near ghost town of abandoned structures. Today, approximately 200 residents—including Métis and First Nations members—remain, sustaining a small community focused on fishing, tourism, and occasional exploration. Accessible only by air or seasonal winter road, it is supported by a modest airport and Ben McIntyre School. Ongoing environmental remediation is led by Cameco and Orano, with potential for future mining revival amid legacy cleanup efforts. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 28, 2025 at 6:15 AM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:45 AM
• 3 months ago
|
The Ruinas do Hotel Gávea, also known as the "Hotel Esqueleto" or Skeleton Hotel, is an unfinished 16-story luxury hotel complex abandoned in the heart of Rio de Janeiro's Floresta da Tijuca, near São Conrado and the iconic Pedra da Gávea, offering stunning panoramic views of the ocean and mountains. Designed in 1953 by architect Décio da Silva Pacheco as Brazil's most opulent resort—with plans for 440 rooms, a restaurant, convention center, sky terrace boate, and even a cable car system—the 30,000-square-meter structure, spanning 125 meters long and 50 meters high with 272 access steps, was halted by the bankruptcy of its developer, Incorporadora Califórnia, in 1972, leaving it as a raw concrete skeleton that never hosted a single guest. Over decades, the site fell into decay, serving briefly as a party venue in 1965 and later as a shelter for the homeless or criminal hideout, while rampant vandalism stripped its materials; today, it's a perilous urban exploration hotspot drawing adventurers for Instagram-worthy photos, though risks like structural instability and lack of oversight persist. In 2023, the property was acquired by GV2 Produção for revival as the compact Gávea Boutique & Extended Stay Hotel with 230 units, targeting a 2026 opening amid ongoing environmental and preservation debates. | public | -- |
|
Submitted Oct 28, 2025 at 6:03 AM• 5 months ago
Updated Jan 16, 2026 at 12:45 AM
• 3 months ago
|
Frank, Alberta, is a small historic coal mining community nestled in the Crowsnest Pass of the Canadian Rockies, about 250 km southwest of Calgary, founded in 1901 by American entrepreneur Sam Gebo to support the International Coal and Coke Company's operations at the base of unstable Turtle Mountain. Rapidly growing to over 1,000 residents with businesses, a school, and rail access, it became the first incorporated village in the Pass, thriving amid the early 20th-century coal boom. Tragically, on April 29, 1903, at 4:10 a.m., a massive 110 million-tonne limestone slab—measuring 3,280 feet wide, 1,400 feet high, and 500 feet deep—detached from the mountain and thundered down in 90 seconds, burying much of the town, destroying infrastructure, and claiming 70–90 lives in Canada's deadliest rockslide, known as the Frank Slide. *This is the original site of where the town of Frank once existed before being buried under heavy mountainous rock.* | public | -- |
The Shuttered Outpost
Straddling the dusty fringes of Highway 97 in Vernon, British Columbia's sun-drenched Okanagan corridor, this weathered sentinel; a modest gray stucco outpost with a pitched roof and sagging portico; hunkers like a forgotten pit stop from the valley's trucking heyday. Likely a roadside shop or service shack born in the postwar boom, it once buzzed with the clatter of travelers fueling up, its double doors swinging to hawk sundries or quick fixes under the watchful gaze of Swan Lake's distant shimmer. But as big-box sprawl eclipsed the mom-and-pops and traffic thundered on, it shuttered its fate with a stark "CLOSED" placard, surrendering to the creep of thistles and cheatgrass that now choke its threshold, while a lone blue dumpster squats like a mocking tombstone beside rusted utility poles and the skeletal hulks of shipping containers. Urban explorers threading BC's vein of forgotten byways will unearth a compact elegy to transience here: nudge past the splintered awning to frame the graffiti-flecked facade against the hulking forms of nearby warehouses, or circle the perimeter where wild sunflowers claw through cracked concrete, the air humming with the phantom diesel growl of semis on the overpass. A subtle canvas for your shutter to capture the quiet insurgency of weeds reclaiming what commerce cast aside, all under skies that stretch eternally blue and indifferent.
Safeguard Montana Complex
Perched on the stark, wind-scoured plains of north-central Montana, roughly 25 miles northwest of Ledger amid the endless ripple of golden prairie grass, the Safeguard Montana Complex looms as a colossal monument to Cold War paranoia and hasty abandonment. Conceived in the late 1960s as a bulwark in the U.S. Army's anti-ballistic missile shield, this remote outpost; dubbed the Perimeter Acquisition Radar site, was meant to scan Soviet skies and safeguard nearby Minuteman silos at Malmstrom Air Force Base. Billions poured into its foundations before the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty slammed the brakes, leaving the project a mere 10% complete: a gargantuan, unfinished pyramid of weathered concrete rises like a ziggurat from another era, its truncated second level scarred by rebar skeletons, flanked by derelict power plants, cavernous heat sinks, and skeletal barracks that whisper of a workforce that vanished overnight. Urban explorers drawn to this "million-dollar f#@k up" of governmental hubris will find a labyrinth of rust and regret, where the low howl of Montana winds funnels through shattered ventilation shafts and graffiti blooms like defiant wildflowers on blast doors long sealed against phantom threats. Ascend the precarious catwalks for panoramic views of isolation unbroken save for distant oil derricks, or delve into the subterranean bowels where echoes of radar hums mingle with the drip of infiltrating meltwater, unearthing faded blueprints and rusted consoles that once dreamed of intercepting Armageddon.
Smuts (Ghost Town)
Nestled in the windswept prairies of Saskatchewan, approximately 50 kilometers northeast of Saskatoon along Highway 41, the ghost town of Smuts stands as a poignant relic of rural ambition and inevitable decline. Once a bustling community of around 200 souls in the early 20th century, drawn by the promise of fertile farmland and Ukrainian immigrant heritage, Smuts thrived on grain elevators, a general store, and the rhythmic hum of daily life. But as economic shifts and mechanized agriculture hollowed out small towns across the Canadian plains, residents drifted away, leaving behind a skeletal landscape of weathered homesteads, crumbling barns, and the solitary sentinel of St. John the Baptist Ukrainian Greek Catholic Church; its onion-domed silhouette a haunting nod to the faith that anchored the settlers. For urban explorers, Smuts offers a raw, unfiltered portal to the past, where the creak of rusted gates and the whisper of buffalo grass through shattered windows evoke stories untold. Tread carefully among the abandoned cabins scattered like forgotten dreams across endless fields, where graffiti tags mingle with faded wallpaper peels, and the vast sky presses down like a forgotten memory.
Bodie (Huge Gold Rush Ghost Town)
Bodie, California, is a legendary gold rush ghost town located in the Bodie Hills east of the Sierra Nevada Mountains in Mono County, about 75 miles southeast of Lake Tahoe. Discovered in 1859 by prospector W.S. Bodey—who perished in a blizzard before seeing its success—the site exploded into a booming mining camp after rich gold strikes in 1876, attracting up to 10,000 residents by 1879 with over 2,000 buildings, including 65 saloons, opium dens, a red-light district, and a Wells Fargo bank, earning a reputation for lawlessness, gunfights, and harsh winters. During its peak from 1877 to 1881, Bodie's mines produced nearly $34 million in gold and silver, making it one of California's most productive sites, supported by innovative technologies like the Standard Mill for ore processing. The town's decline began in the 1880s due to depleted veins, economic downturns, and devastating fires in 1892 and 1932 that razed much of the community, reducing the population to a few hundred by the early 1900s and labeling it a ghost town by 1915. Mining ceased entirely by 1942, and the last residents departed in the 1950s, leaving Bodie abandoned until it was designated a California State Historic Park in 1962 and a National Historic Landmark in 1961. Today, preserved in a state of "arrested decay" with about 170 weathered buildings, including homes, a schoolhouse, church, and jail. Bodie attracts over 200,000 visitors annually to explore its eerie, time capsule atmosphere, accessible year-round via State Route 270.
WWII-era Underground Bunker
An underground bunker at the former Naval Station Argentia near Placentia, Newfoundland, is believed by some to be a World War II-era hospital, but it was actually the base's secret Command and Control (CNC) center. The bunker is an abandoned two- or three-story reinforced concrete structure that is now a popular spot for urban explorers.
Old CBC Broadcasting Station
The old CBC Broadcasting Station in St. John's, Newfoundland, was located at 342 Duckworth Street. The art deco building housed CBC Radio operations, including the famous Studio F, for over 50 years before being vacated in 2007.
Uranium City
Uranium City is a remote northern Saskatchewan community on the shore of Lake Athabasca, approximately 760 km northwest of Prince Albert and 48 km south of the Northwest Territories border. Established in 1952 by the provincial government, it served as a central hub for Eldorado Mining and Refining’s uranium operations in the Beaverlodge mining district. Driven by Cold War demand and post-war exploration, the town rapidly grew from tent camps to a thriving settlement of nearly 10,000 residents by the 1960s, featuring schools, a hospital, an airport, and over a dozen active mines—including Gunnar and Lorado—supplying uranium for Canada’s CANDU reactors after military priorities shifted. The 1982 closure of the flagship Beaverlodge Mine, due to high costs, low ore grades, and a declining market, triggered a sudden collapse, reducing the population to under 400 within months and leaving a near ghost town of abandoned structures. Today, approximately 200 residents—including Métis and First Nations members—remain, sustaining a small community focused on fishing, tourism, and occasional exploration. Accessible only by air or seasonal winter road, it is supported by a modest airport and Ben McIntyre School. Ongoing environmental remediation is led by Cameco and Orano, with potential for future mining revival amid legacy cleanup efforts.
Skeleton Hotel / Ruinas do Hotel Gávea / Hotel Esqueleto
The Ruinas do Hotel Gávea, also known as the "Hotel Esqueleto" or Skeleton Hotel, is an unfinished 16-story luxury hotel complex abandoned in the heart of Rio de Janeiro's Floresta da Tijuca, near São Conrado and the iconic Pedra da Gávea, offering stunning panoramic views of the ocean and mountains. Designed in 1953 by architect Décio da Silva Pacheco as Brazil's most opulent resort—with plans for 440 rooms, a restaurant, convention center, sky terrace boate, and even a cable car system—the 30,000-square-meter structure, spanning 125 meters long and 50 meters high with 272 access steps, was halted by the bankruptcy of its developer, Incorporadora Califórnia, in 1972, leaving it as a raw concrete skeleton that never hosted a single guest. Over decades, the site fell into decay, serving briefly as a party venue in 1965 and later as a shelter for the homeless or criminal hideout, while rampant vandalism stripped its materials; today, it's a perilous urban exploration hotspot drawing adventurers for Instagram-worthy photos, though risks like structural instability and lack of oversight persist. In 2023, the property was acquired by GV2 Produção for revival as the compact Gávea Boutique & Extended Stay Hotel with 230 units, targeting a 2026 opening amid ongoing environmental and preservation debates.
Frank (Frank Slide)
Frank, Alberta, is a small historic coal mining community nestled in the Crowsnest Pass of the Canadian Rockies, about 250 km southwest of Calgary, founded in 1901 by American entrepreneur Sam Gebo to support the International Coal and Coke Company's operations at the base of unstable Turtle Mountain. Rapidly growing to over 1,000 residents with businesses, a school, and rail access, it became the first incorporated village in the Pass, thriving amid the early 20th-century coal boom. Tragically, on April 29, 1903, at 4:10 a.m., a massive 110 million-tonne limestone slab—measuring 3,280 feet wide, 1,400 feet high, and 500 feet deep—detached from the mountain and thundered down in 90 seconds, burying much of the town, destroying infrastructure, and claiming 70–90 lives in Canada's deadliest rockslide, known as the Frank Slide. *This is the original site of where the town of Frank once existed before being buried under heavy mountainous rock.*