We often hear of buildings being “in the way” of new developments. It’s a constant argument between conservationists and modernisers. Sometimes, ancient treasures are even lost in our quest to build our modern times. And then there are cases where people move mountains to preserve things, literally.

The history

The Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary is a Gothic building In the village of Most, Czechia. It is in the north-western part of the country which was always heavily industrialised. Built in the thirteenth century, the earliest records show it existed in 1258^{1 2}. It burned down in 1515² when the city was consumed by fire and redesigned and rebuilt by 1597².

The north-west part of Czechia is what used to be called the Sudetenland before World War II. I’ve examined how this was region was hotly debated by the great powers.

As the years went by, the church needed repairs and sometimes these were substantial. It had a new roof in 1650², a main altar built in 1739², and repairs in 1883². It is 60 x 30 metres (197 x 99 feet) large and has 3 naves¹ separated by octahedral columns. The insides are split into 16 chapels, two side vestibules and a sacristy.

So far, so normal.

In the 1960s, coal was discovered in the region. In August 1963, the authorities started to demolish the city to be able to build mines and mine shafts by Government Resolution 180 of 26 March 1964.

They decided to save the church. The real question was – how do you save such a building?

This is not far from where the World War II Battle over the Ore Mountains took place.

The plans

The options were limited³:

1. Move it 200 m south
2. Move it a little to the east
3. Move it on tracks down the road using flexible or firm tracks.
4. Leave it where it is but build a solid iron or concrete foundation for it.
5. Disassemble the building and rebuild it somewhere else
6. Leave it where it is
7. Move it closer to the hospital where it could be used.

The first two options didn’t make sense because they figured they may need to expand the mines and would face the same problem at some time. The third option would have been a good choice except for the fact that there was no suitable road at the time.

Option 4 was technically impractical given the technology of the day. The 5th would have required too much labour and would have reduced the value of the church. Option 6 was feasible but would have sacrificed some of the mines’ output.

So they decided, quite simply, to move the church.

In 1969 the Czechoslovak Ministry of Culture³ set up a committee to figure this out. It was advised by Soviet engineer Emmanuel Gendel who was the USSR’s specialist in moving buildings. The committee chose a bow path to move the building. The building couldn’t turn corners so a bow-shaped path made the most sense to ease the passage of the building.

Engineers reinforced the masonry inside and out to make sure that jolts and movement would not cause the building to crumble. They also built a concrete ring around the circumference of the building as well as a steel framework on both the inside and outside of the church. All of this preparation work took 7 years².

They then had to consider the path the church would take.

Not only did they have to worry about widening roads, they also demolished any houses in the way².

The move

The church started moving at 11:50 am on 30 September 1975^{1 3}.

Engineers used 53 transport trucks³ on special rails built by Skoda³. These trucks were inserted under the building at strategic points to make sure the entire 12 700 tons of church could be supported. The trucks were computer controlled using hydraulics that could compensate for the uneven terrain with millimetre accuracy³, together with 4 booms² which pulled the church along its way on the rails.

They didn’t have too many rails though; once the church had progressed a bit they would rip up rails at the back and run round the building to place them at the front^{2 3}. The control room for the hydraulics was inside the church itself. It was connected to the hydraulics and rails through hundreds of kilometres of cabling. From there technicians and engineers controlled the movement of the building.

It moved a total of 841.1 metres^{1 3} (half a mile) in 27 days at a velocity of between 1.2 and 3.2 centimetres per minute³ (half an inch to 1.2 inches) without stopping. At its destination it was set on an iron-concrete two storey foundation.

This is an amazing feat of engineering. Which doesn’t mean that Soviet technology was infallible, as the Czechoslovak Chernobyl story shows.

It was laid here at 8:52 am on 27 October 1975. It took till 1988 before they re-opened the church and it was restored and reconsecrated in 1993¹. (The Catholic Church wasn’t keen on reconsecrating it. Since the move was on a semi-circular arch, the church now faces south rather than the traditional east.)

Conclusion

There are ways to preserve the past if we really want to. It all depends on what really moves you.

1. Dean’s Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in Most; (Retrieved 2020-05-04) [↩][↩][↩][↩][↩]
2. Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary in Most; City of Most, The; 2017-12-03[↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩]
3. The church in Most moved on 53 chassis for 500 hours and 1 minute; Radio Praha; 2015-09-12[↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩][↩]