Rummu: glimpses into Soviet captivity

How many times will one actually be able to walk in and out of a prison compound as one pleases? Well, we got to do just that on our third day in Tallinn, when we visited Rummu.

Below: Looking down on Rummu's flooded quarry, and the derelict buildings that once made up the adjacent prison compound.

Located 43 kilometres west of Tallinn, there's little of interest in the nondescript town of Rummu itself. But south of town stands a pretty lake surrounded on three sides by forests, which would be similarly nondescript if not for what borders it on its fourth side - a neglected former prison compound and a bare hill raised from the tormented earth by prison hands.

The prison, known as Murru Prison, was first established in the 1920s (during the Estonians' first short-lived spell of independence) as a penitentiary camp, and it wasn't until 1938 that the limestone quarry, which by its later abandonment gave birth to the lake, started operations. Manual labour, as you might have guessed, was performed by prisoners from nearby Murru. The Soviets carried on business as usual when they arrived, until 1991 when they went out of business. Consequently, work in the quarry was reduced in scale. The pumps which previously kept the pits dry stopped running, flooding it so rapidly with groundwater that there wasn't enough time to even move the mining equipment to higher ground.

Below: the gravel path that followed the former prison walls led to the lakeshore.

We followed a gravel path along the still heavily fenced prison wall south to the lakeshore. Once there, we started scrambling up the 70-metre high slag heap next to the lake to get to the best possible viewpoint. While not very tall, its slopes have been well worn by rain into steep, knife-edged inclines which crumbled under the slightest misplaced weight.

We walked up a gully all the way to the top, which was nearly as scoured as its sides. There, we appreciated once more how flat Estonia actually is, and beheld in the prison compound the drear of order and compulsion spelt out in brick and mortar. The lake's glassy surface next to it all seemed almost redemptive, a colossal act of ablution to dispel the godlessness of the Soviet regime. In the summer, Estonians arrived in droves to swim and even (scuba-)dive. This being winter, we didn't linger and so gingerly made our way down to the lakeshore.

Above: the gully which we scrambled up to get an overview of the vicinity, and the view once we got to the top. Every attempt by foolhardy travellers (and any subsequent instance of rainfall) to scale it sharpens the crumbly terrain, making it tougher for those who would follow. 

Below: the panorama that rewarded our slog up the hill.

Much of the infrastructure actually remains intact. It seems as if operations would be readily resumed once inmates were supplied, and once the broken panes on the watchtowers were replaced. Mercifully, all this isn't happening anytime soon. The prison closed for good quite recently in 2012, and the entire plot of land has been put up for sale.

An investment alternative, perhaps?

Logistics

Bus 148 runs from Tallinn's Baltijaam bus station to Rummu. Schedules can be found on www.peatus.ee. A one-way ticket from Tallinn (not sure they do returns) costs 3 euros, and that from Rummu 2 euros. We took the 8.40 bus from Tallinn, got to Rummu at 9.49 and hurried to the quarry and back in time to catch the 10.50 bus back. While of course we could have taken our time, the next bus after would leave at something like one in the afternoon. Believe you me when I say there's absolutely nothing else to do in Rummu.