High above the Harz village of Sorge (Sorrow) sits a "lost place" so vast it defies a single camera lens. From a pioneering 19th-century tuberculosis sanatorium where patients "drank the sun" to a secretive, barbed-wire retreat for the GDR’s military elite, the ruins on the Ochsenberg tell the fractured story of German history.
Once known colloquially as the "Sloth Farm"—a secluded convalescent home where communist generals escaped the pressures of the Cold War—the complex now stands as a haunting monument to decay.
Perched on the Ochsenberg—near a small Harz Mountain village bearing the telling name Sorge (Sorrow)—stand the ruins of the former Johanniter Sanatorium for Lung Diseases. One hundred and twenty years after its opening, and three decades after the withdrawal of the National People’s Army of the socialist GDR dictatorship, the massive building now beckons with the beauty of decay.
Cinema Seats
Two cinema seats, upholstered in red, have survived. Ripped open and gutted, they stand exactly where soldiers of the East German army once relaxed—their medical duties completed—while watching a fine film from the studios of the state-owned "DEFA" production company.
Hanging above these last two witnesses to the era—when the long, narrow room on the second floor of the former Johanniter sanatorium in the Harz served as a cinema hall—is the reed insulation spilling from the shattered ceiling.
Glassless windows
Through glassless windows, sunlight falls upon a scene of post-apocalyptic desolation: Charred beams. Brick walls stripped of their plaster. Moss grows from the remnants of parquet flooring that have crumbled back into earth.
Since the National People’s Army withdrew in the summer of 1991—following its dissolution in the wake of the fall of the Berlin Wall—the imposing building on the Ochsenberg near Sorge has stood empty. Initially guarded and maintained by a handful of staff members, the passing years gradually transformed the site—situated at an elevation of 562 meters—into an enchanted "lost place."
Today, the former clinic is a place the world has forgotten—even though, due to the widespread tree dieback in the Harz region, it is no longer hidden deep within a spruce forest, but is instead surrounded by tree stumps and sparse undergrowth.
The Order of St. John
When, in 1899, the Order of St. John decided to establish a sanatorium up here to care for the ever-growing number of tuberculosis patients across the country—a rise fueled by the era of industrialization—the landscape looked very different indeed.
Perched on the mountain’s southern slope, the elongated, four-story building faced directly into the midday sun—an ideal setting for treatments that consisted largely of so-called "open-air rest cures" in the woods, strictly supervised by deaconesses from the Diakonissenhaus in Halle.
The Johanniter Sanatorium is far too vast to be captured in a single photograph. A relief high up on the main building’s façade still depicts this healing method today: with arms spread wide, a patient welcomes the therapeutic rays of the sun. When combined with hydrotherapy treatments, this method was considered highly effective.
Solitary on the Ochsenberg
Even after the construction of the Berlin Wall and the subsequent fortification of the border with the West, the Johanniters were permitted to continue their healing work within their "fortress."
That remained the case until the GDR leadership—mindful of the border patrol’s access road, located a mere 600 meters away—decreed that the Church must vacate the premises.
Endless Corridors
The door signs pointing to the training room—complete with its "exercise bike"—date, much like the abandoned chandeliers, kitchen tiles, and wall sconces, to the subsequent era when the complex served as a convalescent home for the communist GDR Army—a retreat frequently visited by Defense Minister Heinz Hoffmann whenever he wished to unwind.
Even the fence enclosing the grounds—colloquially dubbed the "Sloth Farm" at the time—bears the unmistakable stamp of this era as a military clinic: crumbling concrete posts, tilting outward and fitted with brackets through which barbed wire once ran.
Waiting for an Investor
The surveillance cameras are new, yet they are a necessity. During its long years of vacancy, the Johanniter Sanatorium evolved into a pilgrimage site for "ruin tourists" and partygoers. The horror thriller Ostzone – Wenn du sie hörst, ist es zu spät ("Eastern Zone: If You Hear Them, It’s Too Late") ultimately transformed this historic site into a genuine hotspot for the urban exploration scene. It Will Cost Millions
The tenant at the time decided to officially allow curious visitors and photographers to roam the grounds—by appointment—offering a rare opportunity to explore a genuine "lost place" without interruption. Following the tragically premature death of the site’s operator—who ran an adventure camp and sled-dog school there—the current caretakers of the sanatorium have maintained this practice.
Inside a Room at the "Sloth Farm"
The family, who moved from the Netherlands to the Harz region, resides in a well-preserved building within the sprawling complex. At the gate, they have posted a sign—specifically for visitors—displaying a phone number that hikers can call to arrange a guided tour on short notice.
In exchange for a small fee, visitors receive a briefing indicating which buildings are safe to explore and where the risk of falling through dilapidated ceilings is simply too high.
Visitors provide a welcome change of pace, says Mrs. Meijer, even though she loves this abandoned mountain site primarily for its solitude, its wildlife, and its natural surroundings. The family has no plans to renovate the facility themselves. "That’s a job only someone with millions to invest could undertake."
Visitors will find a sign at the gate displaying a mobile phone number that must be called. Someone will then come to the gate to welcome the guests.
Google Maps coordinates for the Johanniter Sanatorium: MMJG+8G