Sacyr Conservación ha empezado a usar cuadrúpedo robotizado que inspecciona las galerías kilométricas que existen en el interior de las presas.

Las infraestructuras hidráulicas tienen una difícil conectividad con el exterior por el grosor de sus muros de hormigón, por lo que un robot autónomo es la mejor respuesta para ejecutar el trabajo.

Esta máquina ayuda a los profesionales en sus inspecciones rutinarias y anticipa posibles condiciones insalubres por la existencia de gases o de humedad. 

Desde la Confederación Hidrográfica del Duero, propusieron un proyecto de inspección autónoma robotizada mediante el cuadrúpedo en la presa de Pontón Alto, ubicada entre las localidades de Segovia y La Granja.

La utilización de este sistema mejora la seguridad y salud de los inspectores y la eficiencia de las operaciones, ya que permite aumentar la frecuencia de las inspecciones. 

Jose Luis Barragán, jefe COEX de presa de la Zona F de la Confederación Hidrográfica del Duero, en la que opera Sacyr Conservación, explica que en las galerías en las que trabaja el robot se encuentran las válvulas de abastecimiento de agua, la apertura y el cierre de compuertas, etc. “Hay sensores que miden distintos parámetros, como presiones, caudales o desplazamientos. La idea es que nuestro robot haga fotos a los puntos que se determinen”, señala. 

“Los distintos niveles de galerías están comunicados por escaleras y los robots UGV (Unmaned Ground Vehicle) se pueden mover entre ellos para completar las inspecciones.  Es la primera vez que incorporamos este tipo de tecnología a la conservación de las presas”, afirma Jose Luis Barragán.

Sistema de localización

El reto ahora es implantar un sistema de localización del robot, ya que en el interior de la presa no funciona el GPS. Por ese motivo, Sacyr Conservación se plantea hacer un mapeado o usar un gemelo digital 3D de las galerías.

“En el futuro se podría entrenar al robot no sólo para sacar imágenes sino también para extraer datos y analizarlos para prevenir fisuras, humedades y caudal de filtraciones”, afirma el experto.

Las primeras pruebas de navegación ya se han realizado y el objetivo es desarrollarlo en los próximos meses.
 

MARÍA GÓMEZ BRAVO | Tungsteno

Clinging to a granite wall requires understanding the language of the rock. Since the Middle Ages, architecture has sought solutions that would allow people to inhabit the most extreme terrains, defying gravity as if floating above the void. The Hanging Houses of Cuenca, built in the 15th century, the monasteries of Meteora in Greece, suspended on near-vertical rock pillars, or contemporary designs such as Australia’s Cliff House, are structures that share the same idea: to build right on the boundary between solid ground and empty space.

Cuenca: Conquering Airspace

During the 15th century, the town of Cuenca established itself within the Kingdom of Castile as a strategic stronghold and the region’s economic hub. This growth created the need to accommodate an expanding population beyond the medieval walled fortress overlooking the gorges of the Júcar and Huécar rivers. The scarcity of available land led to the design of the Hanging Houses, a conquest of the void yet independent of it.

The construction relied on complex structural systems using cantilevered beams (known as almojayas) supported by the interior walls. These systems counterbalanced the weight of the overhanging balconies with the floor structure of the building’s lower level. The complex, which can be admired from across the river, was recognised as part of the historic walled town of Cuenca, which was declared a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1996.

Meteora: Balance as Reinforcement

The Orthodox monasteries of Meteora (Greece) faced a different challenge: maintaining balance atop porous rock pinnacles, rising almost vertically above the plains near Kalambaka in Thessalian. As in Cuenca, the solutions employed reflected an adaptation to the environment.

The Orthodox-Byzantine monasteries of Meteora are built so that their weight distribution prevents the sandstone pinnacles on which they are perched from collapsing. Credit: Walter Weinberg / 500px/Getty Images

These towering pillars of sandstone and conglomerate, some of which reach up to 600 metres, were chosen by the Orthodox-Byzantine monks in the 14^th century as sites for monasteries, offering refuge from Ottoman attacks. The unique setting, which translates from the Greek Μετέωρα as “suspended in the air”, was ideal for solitary spiritual practice and could only be accessed by long ladders or rope nets hoisted by pulleys.

In this feat of medieval engineering, the monks exploited natural cracks in the rock to wedge in wooden pegs and erect temporary scaffolding. The rock itself was used to build the walls and carve cisterns for collecting rainwater.

The weight distribution of the monasteries is typically concentrated at the centre of the pinnacle, which prevents the stone column from collapsing. The structure itself acts as a compression plug, sealing fissures in the porous sandstone and preventing them from expanding due to water infiltration.

The Evolution of the Cantilever: From Wood to Steel

These rock-based construction techniques have evolved into other extreme projects that seek minimal impact on the landscape. One such example is the houses in the Wangxian Valley in China, an example of rural regeneration where architecture revives the traditional aesthetics of the Xian ethnic group through cutting-edge engineering.

The dwellings are suspended from granite walls using cantilever principles, but rather than wooden beams, they employ concealed steel structures and high-strength bolts anchored into the rock. The same technical approach is employed in the as-yet-unbuilt Modscape Cliff House in Australia, a conceptual project designed to hang over a precipice on the Victorian coast.

The dwellings in China's Wangxian Valley are anchored to the rock using steel structures and high-strength bolts. Credit: Jaclyne Ortiz/Istockphoto

The proposed design consists of five modular units anchored to the rock with high-strength steel fixings, mimicking the way barnacles attach themselves to a ship’s hull. The stability of the structure is determined by the controlling of loads and the torsion of the structural elements, a technical challenge with a centuries-long history that can now be addressed through digital simulations and high-strength materials.

The desire to float above the landscape is not new. In the late 1960s, the modernist architect Harry Weese already defied gravity with the Shadowcliff, a glass and steel structure over Lake Michigan in Ellison Bay, Wisconsin. This demonstrated that steel could make it possible to inhabit the abyss without the need for massive foundations.

What once arose from defensive or spiritual needs in medieval times has evolved into extreme architectural solutions that test our ability to inhabit places where we were never meant to be.

Tungsteno es un laboratorio periodístico que explora la esencia de la innovación.