Archive for the ‘Chris’ tag
The ‘Stinger – June 2010
Elvis Presley’s ‘It’s now or never’ belted out from the car stereo as we roared down the A21 into Hastings, swigging cans of Monster in anticipation of the challenge ahead. A drive coming on three hours had seen us arrive at the entrance to the Hastings Storm Relief Sewer with local boys Patch and Davey greeting us at our arranged meeting point. Previous recce’s had resulted in the knowledge that an entrance chamber led down three sets of poo and condom encrusted ladders into a short infeed to the main tunnel, but time was needed to explore the main tunnel itself. That time was today.
A night in The ‘Don – May 2010
We just can’t stop ourselves, we keep going back: Every time we visit London we pass a crane on the A4 at Brentford, a big red bastard we can see for miles before. We practically go underneath it, but we never pull off and stop. Always other things to do, places to see.
Battersea Powerstation – Dec 2009
You can’t ignore it from the Chelsea Embankment. A brooding brick hulk decaying since the 1980s.
Quest for the Westbourne. May 2010
Wednesday
Having got accustomed to the ways of the drains, we prepped for the Westbourne as best we thought possible, with a handful of maps printed from google. With a rough route highlighted along the roads the underground river allegedly followed, we trekked through Knightsbridge in our civvies, heading south towards Chelsea through mews and terraces.
Go West – May 2010
Another 28DL meet was arranged, and my attendance in Cardiff was confirmed when I realised what there was to do on the way down. Following Guildford, Bristol and Manchester’s previous nights of antics in years gone by, I pencilled myself in and got arranging.
Drainor MKII – May 2010
Following our inaugaral trip to the Tyburn, we intended to revisit and photograph the sections we’d explored. Given the advice we’d recieved on these pages we decked ourselves our in hard hats and hi viz, and all 3 of us looked legit and proper as we went about our evening’s work this time.
The manhole we intended to use was now in the middle of some roadworks, and the next one down was locked. As we walked around the area looking for lids. (hint: there’s plenty, but just not the right ones), we could see the other one we had earmarked as potentially suitable was outside a busy street with bars and restaurants. Somebody was surrounded by papparazzi as we slowly drove past, but our cameras stayed firmly locked away, our sights set on a nice pooey drain instead.
We moved on to another lead, and this yielded. The lid popped with ease, the ladder went down and with the smell we knew we were definitely in a foul water drain.
My First Sewer – March 2010
Having not been much of a sewer-rat since picking up this Urbex hobby/lifestyle/affliction, its been over 3 years since seeing pictures of the London Sewers and actually getting down there. Having always put it off in place of chasing asylums and local sites, the underground has grabbed me a little more having visited the Catacombs in Paris, and as such I made arrangements to get down under London for once.
Hobotrip – March 2010
Following Paris and the Einslife trip, the plan was to get away to Belgium again and see some powerstations and industry. More of the usual, whatever we can get our grubby, bramble scratched hands on. This trip seemed almost routine, a foray into dereliction for a prolonged period of time less of a novelty. If I’d have taken this trip a couple of years ago I’d have probably been beside myself with excitement. Thanks on this trip must go to Miles in particular, driving all the way to Liege and back in short stints between our long houred days of exploring.
Einslife! (Part Two)
December 2009
Enter ins Deutschland. Home of leather shorts, big sausages and Radio Einslife. We arrived in the dark, having drank copious amounts of Blue Chimay and eaten dried apricots. Chris put up with us in the car on the way to St Josefsheim, where we walked in through the front door. Wilkommen ins Deutschland indeed. In the mostly enclosed courtyard, we could finally use our firewood. We found a little wheelbarrow and cooked sausages, onions, peppers and mushrooms. They were delicious.
Kinky Paris – Feb 2010
Les Carrieres de Paris, the Catacombs, l’ossuaire municipal , the Catas, whatever you want to call them, they’ve been on the scene for years. Take the official tour along with the other quarter of a million others who do each year, see the bones, hear the story, emerge into the sunlight after an hour to shoot to le Louvre or la Tour Eiffel. Catas done, tick the box, au revoir.
Aside from the official tour, there are around 180km of catacombs that are not open to the public. Guarded by a group of ‘Cataflics’, the punishment for getting caught is a €60 fine and a slap on the wrist. Hence, the Cataphiles exist. A clandestine group of urban cavers, explorers, artists, graffers, partygoers and adventurers, the weekend sees the catas become a bustling hive of activity.
