How to Visit the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia (original) (raw)

In December 2022, I was lucky enough to be one of the first foreigners to tour the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant, a massive metallurgy complex that has been working non-stop, 365 days a year, since October 1933.

On the eve of the plant’s 90th anniversary, I was there to mark the launch of a new initiative, the ‘New Industrial Tourist Route’.

Funded by Polish NGO Solidarity Fund PL in Georgia and the Polish Embassy in Tbilisi, the project aims to develop sustainable tourism in Zestafoni, an industrial city near Kutaisi with huge tourism potential that has, until now, been entirely overlooked.

As someone who is fascinated by all aspects of Georgia’s history, I often document ‘Soviet-era relics’ here on the blog. But I’m usually talking about leftovers from Brezhnev’s or Gorbachev’s Soviet Union of the 1960s-80s.

Most of my encounters with Georgia’s Soviet past have been through architecture, institutes and artworks that have been abandoned, ruined, rebuilt, repurposed or otherwise intervened with.

The Zestafoni Ferroalloy Factory is different.

Still running like clockwork with much of its original 1930s machinery, it is truly a time capsule.

Heavy machinery producing steel parts inside the 1930s Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Inside one of the workshops at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant.

Touring the Ferroalloy Plant in Zestafoni is one of the most unique things I’ve done in Georgia to date. I am incredibly grateful to Solidarity Fund PL for inviting me to be part of this project, and I would like to thank them once again for supporting my recent visit to Zestafoni and for making this reportage possible.

In this post, I will share my first-hand experience of visiting the factory, detail a bit of background information, and give you all the information you need for organising your own visit.

Please note: This post contains affiliate links, meaning I may earn a commission if you make a purchase by clicking a link (at no extra cost to you). Learn more.

If you’ve ever travelled across Georgia by road or rail, then you would have passed right by the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant.

At first glance, the sprawling, ash-spotted complex of warehouse-like buildings and smoke towers appears to be abandoned. But it is still very much in use.

One of several factories built in Imereti by the Soviets, the ferroalloy plant was created to process raw materials extracted from the mines in nearby Chiatura and Tkibuli. Construction broke ground in April 1931, and the plant was up and running by October 1933.

Photographs of the construction of the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Construction of the plant, pictured in archival photos at the Zestafoni Museum.

It quickly became the centrepiece of Zestafoni and the city’s major employer. The plant even had its own hotel and hospital – the latter still operates today as the as Ferromedi Clinic.

Within its first five years of operation, the plant was producing 11 different kinds of ferroalloys. Used in the production of steel, ferroalloys are iron alloys with a high ratio of other metals such as manganese, silicon and aluminium.

A sample of ferromangese at the Zestafoni Museum.

A ferromanganese sample kept at the museum.

Some of the factory’s output was used domestically in Georgia and the USSR, but the bulk was exported to countries as far afield as Cuba, Mongolia and Korea.

A map showing the export of products from Zestafoni, Georgia at the local museum.

Map of ferroalloy exports at the Zestafoni Museum.

The plant was made possible by technology developed in Tbilisi in the late 1920s by Giorgi Nikoladze, son of the famous industrialist Niko Nikoladze who spearheaded the Black Sea port at Poti.

The younger Nikoladze is considered the plant’s founder. The factory carries the metallurgist-mathematician’s name, and features his memorial bust at one of the entrances.

G. Nikoladze Square in Zestafoni, featuring a bust of the ferroalloy factory's founder.

G. Nikoladze Memorial Square, with one of the plant’s smoke towers in the background.

Today, Georgian Manganese LLC (Georgian American Alloys, Inc.) is one of the biggest employers in this part of Georgia, with around 5,000 staff. In 2018, it produced 223,000 tons of silico-manganese and 6,000 tons of ferro-manganese for export to the US, Russia, and elsewhere.

Zestafoni & the Five Year Plan

I think it’s worthwhile to put the development of the Zestafoni Ferroalloys Plant into context and understand what was going on in the USSR when it emerged. Especially if, like me, you’re unfamiliar with 1930s Soviet history.

The year 1933 is immediately associated with the horrific Holodomor famine, which started a year earlier and peaked that spring, claiming the lives of up to 3.9 million people.

As a juxtaposition to this mindless destruction, it was also a time of innovation. With Joseph Stalin as leader, the year 1933 marked the beginning of a new ‘Five Year Plan’, second in a series of industrialisation and collectivisation policies designed to advance economic development.

The 1932-37 plan put a renewed emphasis on heavy industry. Stalin’s aspiration was to outstrip Germany and make the USSR one of the world’s premier steel-producing states.

The exterior of the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

My first look at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy factory, a piece of Georgia’s industrial heritage from the Soviet era.

The plan fell short of its goals and is widely considered a failure, yet several significant projects were realised during this period, including the Baltic-White Sea Canal, the Dneproges hydro dam in Ukraine, and the Magnitogorsk foundries in Russia.

The Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant doesn’t get a mention in any of the texts I’ve read about the second Five Year Plan, but it could easily be added to the list.

I also find it interesting that the 1930s is when the push to crush religion in the Soviet Republics really came to a head. Thousands of churches were wiped out between 1932-33.

Could it be that new houses of worship, built for those made to worship at the altar of industry, were supposed to take their place? The cavernous warehouses in Zestafoni – with their high ceilings and a vast emptiness – do have a cathedral-like aura.

90 years, and not a single day off

One of the most remarkable things about the ferroalloy factory is that it has been operating continuously since October 1933.

The heating furnaces used to facilitate carbothermic reactions must fire continuously and cannot be allowed to cool off, which means the plant must be manned 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year.

Much of the equipment dates to the Soviet era, and all around the plant you’ll notice little ‘souvenirs’ from the same period.

A black and white photo of workers from the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant.

Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant workers.

Many of the workers are rusted on too, having been employed at the plant for 30-plus years (Though I did see a lot of young faces too, perhaps the second or third generation of their family to work here.) Over the years, changes have been made to mitigate air pollution and improve worker safety, but their job remains punishingly physical.

A modern day plant worker in a hard hat, looking over the machinery on the workshop floor.

One of today’s plant workers.

Somehow the factory survived the tumult of the 1990s, which brought economic meltdown and civil war to a newly independent Georgia, making the transition from state to private ownership without missing a single day of work.

Inside the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant

As a participant in one of the pilot plant tours, I was among the first to don a hard hat and step onto the factory floor.

A man in an orange jacket showing a group of tourists around the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

The Ferroalloy Plant Manager showing our group around.

I had an idea of what to expect, having seen Ryan Koopmans’ brilliant photography from inside the plant in 2019 – but nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

A huge 1930s workshop at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Inside of the plant workshops.

From the moment I stepped onto the grounds, I was in complete awe of the scale of the operation.

Everything is jumbo-sized save for the armies of humans that dart about the gangways, their fluorescent vests bringing light specks of light to the darkest corners of the workshops.

Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant workers sit on a bench inside the workshop, with dust particles visible in the air.

Workers at the ferroalloy plant.

After a safety briefing outside the main office, we were ushered along the main thoroughfare, past tiny mountains of shimmering dirt and dust, and into the first building. My first observation as we entered onto the ground floor was how dark it was. This particular building had a closed roof and only a few bare bulbs for light.

We climbed up an open metal staircase onto the mezzanine to look down at the workshop floor. The scene was dominated by a huge black ‘ladle’ suspended over a conveyor belt and channelling a river of red-hot molten metal into briquette moulds.

A ladle pours molten metal into briquette moulds at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Ladling out molten metal into the briquette moulds.

I turned around to see an industrial-sized furnace with six long metal poles emerging from its doors, presumably with red-hot metal attached to their ends.

As a worker beckoned for me to hopscotch over the poles for a better view, I realised this wasn’t going to be your average tour!

A row of furnaces at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

The furnaces.

As our guide narrated the scene below us, the plant manager appeared and invited us back down onto the floor for a group photo.

This is where we got to see the lava-like alloys up close for the first time, sending a flurry of sparks into the air and onto the concrete around us as it hit the edges of the moulds.

A worker cleans out metal debris from a conveyor belt inside the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant.

Cleaning out hot debris from the conveyor belt.

All across the floor, more cauldrons sat like steaming pots of soup on the stove, bringing a soft glow and a pleasant warmth to a cold winter’s day.

Three steaming black ladles filled with hot molten metal.

Steaming cauldrons on the workshop floor.

Back upstairs, we ventured into one of the control rooms, passing a retro red Avtomat Pro water dispenser. Like the gauges on the workroom floor and the posters and safety signs inside the office, it was dressed with Russian characters – definitely a fixture since Soviet times.

Control room deck at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

A Russian vending machine inside the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Inside the control room, our guide walked us through a set of colossal machines with different dials and switches. It was a scene straight from The Simpsons – all that was missing was the ‘days without an accident’ sign.

Next stop on our tour was a warehouse area where raw materials are received. Along one wall, giant funnels and motionless conveyor belts were loaded with black rock.

Black rocks from mines in Georgia on a conveyor belt at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant.

Raw material ready for processing.

As our guide explained, this raw material comes from the mines in Chiatura, Tkibuli, and – to my surprise – Africa. The factory is currently experimenting with all-local production to avoid such imports.

Equipment at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Lockers at the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

As we made our way to the next workshop, we encountered another huge steel-beamed space – this time illuminated by natural light – with bags of material and piles of loose rock arranged in an orderly fashion across the floor.

A heavy metal chain on the floor inside the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

Baskets of rock inside the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant in Georgia.

The plant manager disappeared behind one of the small mountains and returned with a big chunk of something silvery and shiny. I had seen this material earlier that day, sequestered under glass at the Zestafoni Museum and labelled in Russian, ферромарганец – ferromanganese.

This ‘fresh’, tennis ball-sized specimen we were now passing around was much lighter than I expected. It was almost completely weightless, like a scrunched up piece of tin foil you pull off the top of your dinner before heating it up in the microwave.

A man holds a chunk of ferromanganese.

A chunk of ferromanganese.

Our final destination was the highlight of the tour. Another workshop space, trolley perched high up in the metal rafters.

A metal arm as long as the entire building started sliding along a rail and clanked directly over our heads before slotting into place.

Without hesitation, it tipped its load of lava into another cauldron on the workshop floor. All this took place just a few metres away from where we were standing.

A giant ladle pours red-hot metal into a cauldron.

Seeing this process up close was definitely the highlight of our plant tour!

We all got a kick out of this, especially the young men in the group. Students from Rustavi, another industrial city in Georgia in the east, near Tbilisi, and home to the 1948 Rustavi Metallurgical Plant, the largest of its kind in the South Caucasus.

They spoke to me about the scourge of air pollution on their city from the plant, but by the end of the tour, I’m sure they had some ideas for how industrial tourism could work in their city too.

How to visit the Zestafoni Ferroalloy Plant

To the best of my knowledge, the Ferroalloy Plant in Zestafoni is the first in the region to open its doors to the public. Guided tours are strictly controlled and pre-registration is required for safety.

From 2023, the plant will open once a month to small groups, led by a staff member.

More information about how to make a reservation and organise your visit is coming soon.

A woman wearing a white hard hat on the factory floor at the Zestafoni metal plant.

A danger sign in Georgian lanaguage.

More things to do in Zestafoni

The Ferroalloy Plant is just one component of the ‘New Industrial Tourist Route’ that aims to put Zestafoni on Georgia’s tourist map. I strongly recommend visiting the Zestafoni Museum, which has a nice exhibition about the history of the factory.

A complementary project, the ‘Path of Mosaics’, highlights some of Zestafoni’s finest Soviet-era mosaics, several of which have recently been restored by the Ribirabo Foundation.

For a full list of things to do in Zestafoni and travel tips, see my Zestafoni City Guide.

More resources for Soviet tourism in Georgia

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