Archive
List by date posted or actual date.
December 2011 //
November 2011 //
October 2011 //
September 2011 //
August 2011 //
July 2011 //
June 2011 //
May 2011 //
April 2011 //
March 2011 //
February 2011 //
January 2011 //
December 2010 //
November 2010 //
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September 2010 //
August 2010 //
July 2010 //
June 2010 //
May 2010 //
April 2010 //
January 2012 //
Olympic sized ambitions / England
The fence, the wasteland, and then in front of us the stadium itself. An unconventional triathlon, I agree, but it satisfied our thirst. Quietly we spirited up the stairs and out into the seating area, taking immediately to the steel stairs and walkways that would lead us up above this theatre of achievements.
Standing on the shoulder of a giant / England
Pushing the pain in my leg from my head I began working my way upward, shutting out also, as much as I could, the fear. This wasn't like the ladder-climbed chimneys of earlier adventures: here it was faith only in the woven nylon and the aged and weary concrete to which it was attached.
November / USA
It's remarkable how different life is now to how it was just over a year ago. My buddy Shane and I climbed the Williamsburg Bridge once more, for him just a night out, for me as a little reminder of my trip to NYC back in 2009 and the startling realisation that came with it: there's a whole world out here, and it's not going to wait.
December 2011 //
En el vientre de la bestia / Spain
There's an amazing feeling being down in the workings of a hydro plant, knowing that there's all that water potential above your head, held back by a man-made wall and a few valves. And of course, hand controls and levers attached to those valves are always going to provide temptation to mischievous intruders...
Clear air turbulence / Sweden
The low whine quickly reached its crescendo, twin CFM International turbofans gunning to full power, the bumps of the tyres on the runway lights as we careered down the tarmac. Here we go again, I thought, looking out through the glass at the small terminal building as it flashed past, and then it all began to fall away.
November 2011 //
Above us only sky / England
The roof of the Metropolitan Cathedral remained a shared nemesis, a last hit. The rest had been done: friends made and some forgotten, houses and flats lived in and vacated, girls loved and lost, ideas and plans made, adventures and escpades endured and in my case the survival of a moderate beating in a fast food restaurant.
The giants in the mist / Switzerland
The clanking of the lift machinery faded to leave the sound of our movements through the snow. The lifts took with them the bustle of resorts further down, their runs cluttered with familiies whose packaged ski holidays seemed to amount to little more than a tentative foot placed in the shallow end of something so much deeper.
October 2011 //
Despite the fact that we weren't dressed as MTA staff this time it paid to be on our guard, especially when there were active platforms not so far away. It wouldn't surprise me if some of the locked doors on the platform passed directly into maintenance areas still in use.
Jet-lagged and tired I rolled back into New York City aboard a shiny silver NJ Transit service. Frantically I struggled up the stairs, out of Penn Station and into the bright bustling clusterfuck that is downtown Manhattan. I breathed that city air and looked around. It was good to be back.
Once more we were shepherded off to the side and instructed to park next to another vehicle. Beside the other car stood two worried looking men, roughly the same age as us. Inside the front of their car several customs guys were busy pulling the centre console apart. Wires and plastic were going everywhere.
London to Latvia (and everything in between) - Part 7 / Germany, Belgium
This, the second ferry crossing, lasted only an hour or so. The air was bitter and cold, a low mist hung over the Baltic Sea. Our company at such an early hour comprised mostly of 'torn faced' truckers. Shabbily dressed and unshaven, we fit in just fine. On arrival in Germany the border guards paid us no attention and we hit the Autobahn.
September 2011 //
London to Latvia (and everything in between) - Part 6 / Sweden, Denmark
One dull clunk produced no results, as did the second. The third produced more fascinating results: the fans sparked into life, enveloping me in a cloud of rust. At this point, annoyed and covered in dust, I descended the ladder and barked at siologen to stop messing about. And then he threw the fourth lever...
London to Latvia (and everything in between) - Part 5 / Latvia, Estonia
As the time reached 1pm (GMT+1) we rolled up at the Estonian border. For once we were greeted with cheerful smiles from a couple of the officials, but these had dissolved by the time they'd taken in what they had before them. Two British men in a French car neither of them owned trying to drive from Latvia into Estonia, to catch a ferry to Sweden.
London to Latvia (and everything in between) - Part 4 / Lithuania, Latvia
As we moved through the place we found some recognisable buildings: a vehicle garage (empty), a sports hall with various murals on the walls and in one corner an oily looking substation building was literally wrapped in barbed wire and wooden shuttering. One can only imagine just how nasty it was in there.
London to Latvia (and everything in between) - Part 3 / Poland, Lithuania
Before finding somewhere to stop for the night in Poland we rolled into Warsaw, making use of a big 24hr Tesco to buy more supplies, and demolish at least one toilet. From here until the Latvian capital of Riga we didn't expect to encounter a city of this size, so took it upon ourselves to fill up with hot food.
August 2011 //
The first night in the car produced two stiff necks and a bemused stare from an elderly lady hobbling past the car. The windows were misted up and siologen lolled to one side in a grey sleeping bag that generally made him resemble a vast slug. I climbed out of the car, had a stretch and grinned at the old bag.
A good while before I ever took the kind of photos that appear on these pages I spent a lot of time riding various kinds of bicycle in places I shouldnt, which is how I came to feel so comfortable with the idea of trespassing, and the realisation that a good majority of the better places to spend ones time are, officially, off limits.
Say hello again / England
You won't read about him in Heat magazine, and you certainly won't see his grinning face march onto a Premiership football pitch. It's probably true that unless you're the sort of person that drags themself through sewers, metro tunnels and old bunkers, there's a fair chance you won't even have heard of siologen.
July 2011 //
Those dark satanic mills / England
And there they were, indeed looking dark (at least the windows were) and satanic. Neither myself nor DLB were, however, among them. We were instead being summoned towards a pick-up truck, the driver of which had spotted us as we scampered from one bush to another. For us, the war was over. For the second time.
Queen of the Meadows / England
They stood like giant chess pieces, inanimate, resilient, imposing. For your southern-born author, who as a child had turned a knife over in his soft hands one evening and read the words 'Sheffield Stainless', these towers meant something. Not least if you saw them with your own eyes then it meant you were well and truly in The North.
Tying in at the sharp end / Scotland
Jonnie stepped outward, placing one foot onto the ledge. And so in front of me began to unfold one of the most gripping displays of steel nerves I'd seen in a long time. This sense of awe was compounded with the realisation that afterwards I would have to follow.
June 2011 //
Going Forth / Scotland
As the sun rose on that Saturday morning I may aswell have been flying. The handsome black Volkswagen at my command effortlessly climbed over the summits, swooping down into the valleys with ease, its powerful diesel engine purring softly as together we navigated our way through the Lake District.
Completing the square / England
Quietly the two of us crept across the open wasteland, not far from a perimeter cast by bright floodlights that had been dotted here and there amongst the weeds and the dirt. Before us shone the bright white stacks of that giant cathedral to British Industry, Battersea Power Station.
May 2011 //
There was no activity on site, no reason to suspect one should be caught other than that feeling that such a thing shouldn't be possible. I grasped the top of the board and hauled myself over. Two meters away, the reefdog was doing the same. We dropped onto the slippery wall below and edged towards the side of the building.
Whether the driver had seen any of us or not we weren't sure, but the train was slowing to a halt. Naturally we ran, meeting q-x as the three of us dashed in the direction the train had come from, q-x yelling as we regrouped that he'd seen the driver get out of the cab.
Another late night / France
Eventually I chose my moment and deftly snaked past the little yellow sign at the end of the platform, ignoring its warning and dropping down beside the rails and slipping into the darkness. The curve of the tunnel and the whitewash of the walls meant that I was anything but invisible to those still on the platform.
April 2011 //
The Fifth Deadly Venom / USA
On arrival back in NYC and with my imminent return to Blighty drawing ever-closer, the risks of being caught trying something like this seemed lessened. Sure, I'd never be let back in to the US, but since I was going home soon anyway what would it matter if I were to be deported.
A trip to the seaside / USA
Unlike the two rabbits I can see from the window, which stop now and then and look around, we no longer need to live in fear of our lives. And in fact, you and I never did, not like our distant ancestors for whom hunting, gathering and staying alive was a daily operation. But for us with all this time and money on our hands, what are we to do?
Slinging the Red Hook / USA
Many had been there to explore the various floors and loading bays; many had taken photos. Eric though had other ideas for the Red Hook grain terminal, voiced with intermittent laughter as he threw various rope equipment onto his apartment floor. Crucially there was a 200ft rope, a harness, some slings and then ascenders.
March 2011 //
Taking the subway drum to Canada / Canada
We'd gained entry to the rapid transit system by one of the most favoured means: direct tunnel access. This removed the need to take an audacious run off a platform during service or to find a tunnel portal to dash in from. Instead in a matter of seconds we'd gone from street-level rat-run to trackside in the subway.
It's cold out there every day / Canada
As I'm sure to write about again there's something calming and surreal about having a high rooftop to yourself and your friends on a clear night. The city continues on as it always does but now you're far removed from it, almost like an invisible observer viewing the whole show through some kind of vast skylight...
The Toronto underworld / Canada
In truth siologens makeshift drain opening tool (an aircraft part) had got stuck in the cast-iron lid. There was no option but to tour the neighbourhood delving into bins and skips until a suitable lift-key was found, using which we were finally able to wrench open the cover and drop down the shaft.
Only in Detroit / USA
As I shivered and tried to draw my blanket ever-closer, Shane slept like a baby, nestled in his makeshift incubator. In all fairness he had suggested I move nearer to the center of the room but had neglected to mention the three electric heaters he'd dragged over there and fired up in preparation.
Paint it black / USA
Looking up and around I contemplated the massive open space before me like the cathedral to modern manufacturing that it is. Here within these vast halls Henry Ford conceived the snaking mechanical monster that would shape industrialisation in the 20th Century, radically changing the way of life in the West.
February 2011 //
The years have been anything but kind, and after the salvage of turbines and generators, the shell has been left to the elements. On rainy days water pours in, rotting wood and metalwork alike. The two chimneys stand tall, but for how much longer?
Welcome to The D / USA
In one simple yet alarming movement an arm swooped in through the open window and the keys to the van were gone. The blur of a second officer shot around behind the vehicle, coming to a stop on the other side of the window which for a good few hours now had been my pillow.
The Canada Malting plant is dead / Canada
Standing forlorn on the Toronto Harbourfront, the old Canada Malting silos were no strangers to intruders. For the several decades after they fell into disuse countless people breached the somewhat-fortified exterior. On a bright day in October 2009 a small band of us risked our necks to clamber up and into the remains of its workings.
January 2011 //
No alarms and no surprises / Canada
Opting instead to shove past the barrier at the end of the platform and descend onto the line, we hurriedly completed our manoeuvre and took off down the tunnel, following the shiny rails until they veered off chaotically through complicated pointwork: this was our junction.
Into the belly of the beast / Canada
A vertical ladder took me up beneath a hinged steel lid, apparently devoid of locks. Shoulder to the cool metalwork I pushed, swinging the grill upwards and then letting it fall open. Stepping upwards one last time I clambered out of the misty darkness and emerged onto the main turbine hall floor. The method had worked.
Confluence: the giant in the mist / Canada
Standing near the top of Horseshoe Falls, for the time being just another tourist, I watched the waters never-ending procession with unease. A gigantic cloud of mist and a terrifying persistent rumble completed an experience like no other I can think of, but one that would later that night be completely surpassed.
Through the supply line / USA
Through the trees we could see the shape of the High Bridge. This mass of steelwork was built to ferry the old Croton Aqueduct across the river, carrying millions of gallons of water down into Manhattan from the Croton River. Long since disused, we sought a way in to investigate this curiosity.
The Jet Lab / USA
Surrounded by broken fencing and barbed wire, the nature of the enclosure was clear: signs declared it a Restricted Area. And naturally photography was completely forbidden. We picked our bags from their heap on the back seat, said goodbye to Yaggy and dashed for a hole in the fence.
December 2010 //
The Manhattan Project / USA
Shoulder on the heavy hatch and a clang as it fell open. Finally a starlit sky was all that remained above, Orion and his belt watchful over the night travellers. We'd made it up to the top of the ornate bridge pylon, and since we were on the Brooklyn side we had the twinkling lights of downtown Manhattan at our disposal.
For the hundredth time that night Shane's laughter reverberated across the room. With Johnny Cash thundering from the jukebox as her soundtrack the vivacious barmaid, dressed in questionable attire, shimmied along the bar top in her cowboy boots deftly stepping over glasses and bottles balancing two cans of Coors on her head.
A view from the bridge / USA
The trick was to avoid being seen by pedestrians, motorists and the police, counter the steel guards built around the cables and then negotiate the big wires themselves. The PBR took care of the first one (i.e. it removed the worry, not the risk), leaving just the second two, either of which could claim lives. Our lives.
November 2010 //
Freedom no more / USA
The familiar feeling of returning to the overworld greeted us, climbing back out of this place and onto the streets of Manhattan. Here was a city that had lost something important, but of course nobody knew. They were too busy queueing up to pay the $20 entry fee at the Guggenheim, oblivious to the art theft beneath their feet
Dark days / USA
Being an active railway tunnel, trains do of course pass through. Steve D had advised ds on an earlier trip through the tunnel to 'try to look like trash'. We did so whenever an alcove wasn't available, and so avoided being seen. As we moved further towards Penn station I began to wonder if anyone still lived in the tunnel
The Hell Gate / USA
A rough understanding of block signalling and the fact that there were only three lines suggested there was sufficient time to reach the bridge, unless a wildcard freight decided to pass by. We ran, bottles in bags chinking together, trying not to trip on sleeper-ends and ballast, an experience not unfamiliar to at least half the group...
Things fall apart / USA
To enter Yaggy's Eagle River Power Station we had to cross some exposed wasteland watched-over by a man in a portacabin. Once inside all of us relaxed and toured this mighty ruin. Water ingress has hastened it's destruction, with the beautiful roof above the turbine hall on par with those at the grandest of railway stations
Blinded by the lights / England, France, USA
Five-strong we waited for a gap in the pedestrian traffic on the Williamsburg Bridge, allowed the traffic running on the car deck below to die down and had a last check for cop cars. Deciding that now was a good time we clambered up onto the ironwork of the giant suspension span connecting Manhattan with Queens
October 2010 //
Sur la route - Part 4 / Belgium
On the morning of the last full day in Belgium we awoke on scaffolding attached to a church tower. Daylight had found us and so we reluctantly took this as a cue to get moving. As we climbed down onto the pavement the caretaker turned up and scowled at us but she was too stunned to actually say anything coherent.
Sur la route - Part 3 / Belgium
Drifting onto the left lane now and then, I wasn't doing a very good job of driving. Calmly dsankt would point out every now and then that we were hurtling down the wrong carriageway. In the back Marc slept, exhausted from the adventures the night before.
Sur la route - Part 2 / Belgium
The bus ride from Paris meant that ropes and the necessary kit to rope into a hole as big as this had had to be left behind. And now there was nothing but frustration peering down forlornly at the base of the shaft where unfinished metro tunnels disappeared in two directions.
Sur la route - Part 1 / France, Belgium
Loud French voices announced Paris coming to life, and as it turned out maintaining of Notre Dames grounds was a daily charade. Thinly concealed behind summer greenery the error of my choice of abode was clear: these hard-working gardeners would hardly take kindly to an apparently lazy lowlife sprawled out amongst their hard work.
September 2010 //
In order to reach the bridge we had to traverse along pathways of varying states. In one corner the stonework has disappeared to leave gaping holes, carefully stepped over. In some places complete sections of stonework have fallen away down into the water below, leaving only a single length of rail with which to cross the void.
Ad astra per aspera / England
The big men didn't care anyway - here, apparently, were three more chumps willingly heading for the Skybar to waste the monetary rewards of their corporate-whoredom on overpriced drinks. Obviously it didn't cross their minds to consider that we may have completely different motivations.
The Chamber of Horrors / Wales
Coming shortly was what the passage is more-or-less famous for: 'the bridges'. And 'bridges' is in inverted commas for the simple reason that most of the 'bridges' aren't really bridges anymore. It's at times like this that you have to keep your brain in gear. If you become lazy, complacent or slack then mistakes will be made.
Yet again moving with all the stealth of a pack of petrified banshee the three of us clanged down the stairs and into the concrete tunnel, passing beneath heavy duty roof supports and alongside various robotically controlled diggers. This side entrance was obviously in its infancy.
Later with cider consumed and bored on a ride all the way to the extremities of the city we decided to open a door we shouldn't have and clamber about on the moving train. Somehow the staff got wind of our activities and at the next station RATP security guards boarded the train.
August 2010 //
Fear and loathing in Upper Silesia / Poland
Feigning compliance we followed the man as he gesticulated towards the hut, positioning himself beside the open door and pointing inside. What, in there? Knowing reefdog would agree without question (it was hardly a difficult decision to make) I countered the guard's offer by indicating the gates and murmuring an idea in English.
24hrs below Paris / France
There's not enough room to stand up, so a half walk, half crawl is required, bag dragged along behind. I'm last, the others waiting round the corner. Reaching them comes with the realisation that my spare torch has detached itself from my belt, so back down the tunnel to find it... I've been underground for all of a minute, and I hate it.
Coming up for air / England
The five tired, frightened but brave figures stood, waiting, as their crippled submarine drifted down to the sea bed. Somewhere above them the other 47 members of their crew were clinging hopefully to their life jackets awaiting rescue by an Allied ship. Down below, however, things weren't looking so good.
Going over the top / England
One of the justifications often given to us at school during the drugs (are bad, mmkay) talks was that although a bit of hash may not kill us, it would probably lead us onto harder stuff. The nasty resin just wouldn't cut it anymore, and so we'd tumble down the slippery slope into the minefield of Class As.
July 2010 //
Where eagles dare / Wales
The following photos are from the last good day of October 2008, climbing up the east face of Tryfan from the Heather Terrace and arriving at the famous Adam and Eve rocks at sundown. We didn't find a forgotten race or one of those sea beasts, but we had good fun anyway.
Paris Souterrain / France
The heavy iron door opened silently. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, inevitably the path ahead was downwards by way of ladders. The clunking sound ceased - quantum-x had reached the bottom. Trying not to breath in the sparkling shards of fibreglass that were now airbourne thanks to our disturbance, I followed.
Enter the wolf pack / France
It's not exactly hard to find on satellite images, or indeed on the ground. Put simply, it's massive. Measuring 195m x 165m and 19m tall, it's anyone's guess just how many tons of concrete were poured between wooden shuttering to create the pens (and also the bomb-proofing of the entrance to the dock).
June 2010 //
Real men smoke Yokohamas / England
For me, harbouring a deep-rooted hatred of these vehicles, this purple heap was insult enough, but for Sydney's favourite export, who has surely told every person he's ever met about his love for 3 litre straight-six powered rear-smoking-wheel-drive Holden Toranas, it was going to be hard to stomach.
At the mercy of Poseidon / England
And so there we stood, like Papillon and friend on the cliff, the pair of us watching for the 'seventh wave'. With the tide receeding just that little bit further it was possible to reach across for some old ropes and wires and cling on as the surf swept back along the narrow but deep channel surrounding the ship.
May 2010 //
The Magic Door / England
Loud and fast, always swamped with thousands of people. That's what initial memories of the Tube describe, jam packed into the round-topped cars as they careered through pitch black tunnels beneath the London streets. Faces of all kinds, of all walks, all staring into space, avoiding eye contact, avoiding interaction.
April 2010 //
Miles to the Sun / France
The glimmering arrow moved across the vista almost silently, twin vapour trains scoring sharp lines along the blue sky that would soon begin to fade as they migrated west. This was one of the few times when being up there, encased helplessly in an aluminium tube, seemed an attractive alternative.
