THE PREAMBLE
This was my first proper draining trip, which also happened to be my first sewer exploration. I was accompanied by a family member who had (as far as I understood) done that kind of stuff before, plus I've spent reasonable lengths of time in underground spaces in an official capacity, just not a drain. I learned several things about the reality of drain/sewer exploring (and a thing or two about reality in general) during the relatively short time (2-ish hours) underground. In no particular order, they are as follows:
This was my first proper draining trip, which also happened to be my first sewer exploration. I was accompanied by a family member who had (as far as I understood) done that kind of stuff before, plus I've spent reasonable lengths of time in underground spaces in an official capacity, just not a drain. I learned several things about the reality of drain/sewer exploring (and a thing or two about reality in general) during the relatively short time (2-ish hours) underground. In no particular order, they are as follows:
- Taking photographs in filthy confined spaces is very difficult, more credit to those who turn out the incredible images I've marvelled at on this forum.
- It's possible to go from 'I'm ok with this' to 'I need to get out of here now' in the blink of an eye.
- Is there anything more slippery on earth than engineering bricks in a sewer?
- People you have known your entire life can still surprise you.
THE EXPLORE
The plan was to meet up in London, as we live on opposite sides of the M25. A quick catch up, grab a coffee, have a chat about the plan then head off to a pre-determined entry point. The more the night went on the more I came to realise that the very mild mannered man I'd known my whole life was also a master of understatement, with his throwaway 'I've done that kind of stuff before' comment, when I was waxing lyrical about forums and urban exploration several months back. The first thing that brought this to light was our entry. I was somewhat concerned about jumping in a manhole cover on a busy London street, all kinds of thoughts go through your head. On route to the cover I was talked through how it should go down, which didn't wholly put me at ease but his apparent polar opposite demeanour to mine did help. We had dressed the part and so had the hiding in plain sight thing going on. Probably the best piece of advise received in relation to entry and exit was to ignore everyone, whilst paying attention to everything. LOL! Thanks.
I didn't take a lot of pictures as I really struggled, even with some good direction. This first pic was taken about 500 metres downstream of our entry point.
The plan was to meet up in London, as we live on opposite sides of the M25. A quick catch up, grab a coffee, have a chat about the plan then head off to a pre-determined entry point. The more the night went on the more I came to realise that the very mild mannered man I'd known my whole life was also a master of understatement, with his throwaway 'I've done that kind of stuff before' comment, when I was waxing lyrical about forums and urban exploration several months back. The first thing that brought this to light was our entry. I was somewhat concerned about jumping in a manhole cover on a busy London street, all kinds of thoughts go through your head. On route to the cover I was talked through how it should go down, which didn't wholly put me at ease but his apparent polar opposite demeanour to mine did help. We had dressed the part and so had the hiding in plain sight thing going on. Probably the best piece of advise received in relation to entry and exit was to ignore everyone, whilst paying attention to everything. LOL! Thanks.
I didn't take a lot of pictures as I really struggled, even with some good direction. This first pic was taken about 500 metres downstream of our entry point.
It turns out that getting in a manhole cover when you're mostly ignoring the world around you, and being told what to do, isn't so bad after all. Before I knew it we were in a narrow, arched topped tunnel, lit only by my headtorch, the short ladder we had just descended was on my left and my pristine boots sank into what I'd describe as some sort of mud underfoot. My glasses instantly steamed up and while clearing them I took a moment to appreciate that I was about to explore a sewer, under London! Very exciting. The smell was not at all what I'd anticipated. I mean, you wouldn't want it as a room fragrance, but it was more like laundry you' forgotten about in the washing machine than anything more unpleasant. Leaving the entry tunnel I stepped into the sewer proper, where I was greeted by my next dose of reality. Despite having been told that everthing is slippery , I'd seen Tony (he's not actually called Tony but I'm running out of synonyms here so it'll be Tony from now on), I'd seen tony step into the water and walk a little way down the tunnel. So I stepped confidently into the flow of the water. No sooner had my heel hit the bottom than I found myself flailing and grappling for purchase on anything in sight. Thankfully I steadied myself on the corner of the entry tunnel and turned to see my accidentally jettisoned hard hat gently floating away, to be rescued by Tony as it bumped into his foot.
The tunnel at our entry point was just about tall enough for me to stand upright, so can't have been much more than 5 1/2 ft. I've been reliably informed that from that point upstream it gets increasingly smaller and therefore rather unappealing. The particular sewer in question is named the Northumberland Street Sewer and we explored about 1 1/2 miles of it, from the general area of Fitzrovia, under Soho and Chinatown, to the furthest possible downstream point. After I'd spent a good five minutes acclimatising, Tony lead and we headed out downstream, me using the walls to steady myself. There were points where sedimentation had accumulated and made it far easier to walk, although this also reduced the overall height of the space, making it necessary to shuffle along hunched for some periods. I was enjoying the first ten minutes or so of the experience and was reassured by the regular periodic beep of Tony's gas monitor. After a quarter mile or so of very similar looking tunnel the height had increased and Tony was also able to comfortably walk without a hunch, so I would guestimate it to have been between 7 - 7 1/2 ft, as in the pic above. We stopped at this gentle bend (pictured) as Tony thought it would be a good spot for me to get used to setting up for photographs and to get a general feel for low light shooting.
This was the second significant occasion that evening when I realised there were things about Tony I hadn't much known before. He professed he was no expert at underground photography, but had taken a pic or two, enough to offer some guidance on lighting, exposures, etc. If (when) I'm next in a drain, I'm not sure I'll be overly concerned about taking too many pictures. I didn't really enjoy it, everything gets filthy, it's a chore to set up and pack down, just getting one picture took about 10 minutes and most of that time was consumed by placing lights, checking the frame, trying not to fall over, awkwardly squeezing passed one another, etc, It's just a pain. But I am glad I took a few pictures before packing the camera away for good.
This picture was taken just after a small series of steps (3 I believe) where in the foreground the ceiling had been reinforced with steel plate, presumably due to development aboveground, or the tunnel passing beneath something already existent. So, I thought the tunnel generally was slippery, I learned that steps, steps are not your friend! They seem to accumulate a white film that without great care in placing your foot, instantly propels you in every direction other than the one you were hoping to take. Not a fan. Despite this, it was the most interesting thing we had encountered thus far and was ridiculously loud, considering the diminutive nature of them compared to others I've seen on the forum. Another photograph taken, another dent in my enthusiasm for drain photography, we continued. It was shortly after this point that I began to realise I was getting a little bit on edge, for no apparent reason. Nothing had changed, the walked, we chatted, the gas monitor merrily beeped, but more and more I was getting anxious. I did my best to shrug it off as it had taken a fair bit of persuading to get Tony to agree to accompany me so the last thing I wanted was for him to regret the decision and have to deal with a gibbering, irrational, newb.
Above is the last picture I took of this drain (Red Pill) as at about a mile into our escapade I had to confess to Tony that I was feeling decidedly crap, which is understating things, so I guess that's a family trait. I had this pressing urge that I HAD to get out and although I thought I was doing my best to convey this in a calm and collected manner, I'm told it was rather apparent that I was having a bit of a wobble. Cue the third instance that evening of Tony surprising me, with his ability to talk me down from freaking out, in no small part reassured by an obvious understanding of the situation, the environment, and the relative risk. I packed the camera gear away and we continued downstream, towards a point where we had already established an exit point. Between this incident and reaching our exit I had gathered myself well enough that I was enjoying the time again, noticing this Tony offered up the option to either jump out and call it a night, or we could carry on downstream (for completist sake) and see the entirety of the hospitably explorable length of the drain. Knowing I wasn't going to be faffing around with camera gear I decided I'd really like to see the remaining parts of the drain. Little did I know that Tony had something of an ace up his sleeve, that he'd play a little later. We plodded, I whistled, Tony glided along effortlessly, I attempted the same and stumbled more than once, glistening brick encircled us, water crashed and echoed as it poured out of smaller adjoining sewers, this was what I had hoped for from my first drain exploration! Before long we had reached a point beyond which it was impossible to continue. This end section was far more interesting than the majority of what had gone before, but I'd fail massively to try to describe it. The size of it wasn't much increased, but the number of interacting elements, weirs, sluice type gates, was quite something.
I'm happy. I've explore a sewer, survived a meltdown, taken a few pictures, I didn't die! Let's head to our exit point and hightail it outta here. Another lesson was instantly learned here, walking upstream, against the flow of rather rapid water, even at low volumes, is a far slower process than walking downstream. Slower and more treacherous. We reach our exit and Tony gives me a look, like, are we done? 'Do you want to take like, half an hour, to see something else that is a bit different to what we've been in?' he says. Although my mind had already started to process the evening and was thinking about snacks and refreshments, I allowed myself to be persuaded that another half an hour would be of little consequence, so I agree. 'Great' Tony says, and starts to walk up the small exit tunnel which is on one side of the sewer. I follow behind and see the ladder which I presume we will be taking to continue on to another spot. Tony walks passed the ladder, rounds a 180 degree corner I hadn't even noticed and is out of sight for a second until I too round the corner. Ahead of me are a set of narrow stone steps, heading DOWN beneath the sewer we had spent the evening exploring. I follow and we exit the passageway into a very different looking sewer all together, a bigger bore, circular brick formed tunnel. I was suitably surprised, again! From here in I'm informed we were in previously explored territory, more specifically, a part of the Regent Street Sewer. 'It'd be a shame not to take at least a couple of pictures' he suggests. Reluctantly I agree and take the camera gear out again.
This new sewer felt very different to Red Pill, even taking photographs didn't feel quite so tiresome, with a little more space to manoeuvre. True to his word we spent a little less than half an hour investigating something that I think was Tony's attempt to redress the balance and show me that there's rather more to London than the small tunnels we'd spent the night traversing. We headed back to our exit, he darted up the ladder, deftly opens the strange barred looking lid, exits and calls back to me that it's clear to jump out. The night air was very noticeably crisper than the warm, moisture laden atmosphere that had hugged us for the last couple of hours. I've learned a great deal about exploring sewers in a very short trip (though not nearly enough). I'd also learned a fair bit about myself, and more than a little about someone who I thought I knew well, but am embarrassed to say I had perhaps not considered could be more to than a mild mannered middle-aged man. As it now transpires, from a little probing, he's something of a GOAT and a very humble one that rather values his anonymity, hence the pixelated faces. Thank you Tony for an interesting first drain trip, you did ok. LOL!!
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