Toronto, Ontario //
No alarms and no surprises
Toronto's disused Lower Bay subway station
Date October 2009
Posted January 2011
Posted January 2011
Our journey from the depths of Niagara Falls back to Toronto passed with little drama (save for a piracy incident involving a grounded galleon in Lake Ontario - photos are out there somewhere), and miraculously we were given back our entire deposit by the rental firm in exchange for one filthy and abused MPV. Finally we had time to become properly acquainted with Toronto, and what better way than to start an intimate relationship with its subway system?
To the seasoned subway fiend each and every system has a distinctive feel to it. Toronto is no exception, and on arrival in the city I could see how in some ways it was very similar to New York's (mainly the construction and the rolling stock), whilst in other ways it was almost unique. Save for the platform-bound hopers waiting for opportunity to come knocking in the form of some kind of 'heritage day' visit, those rapid transit foamers who've got a pair will be only too aware that the parameters governing the potential for off-limits exploration in such systems vary (sometimes hugely) from one city to the next. And here we were with a fresh system, our only trump card siologen's bold declaration that in Canada "They don't care about security".
The subject of our affection on this particular night happened to be Toronto's sole disused subway station of note. Those aforementioned parameters surrounded us in the form of a battalion of dome-shaped security cameras, half a dozen passengers, reasonably frequent trains and of course that old friend and deterrent, the third rail. As is often the case, the particular station we were after could be reached from above... if you had the keys. Since what we were lacking in the key department we made up for with one big ol' cavalier attitude, usual research topics such as these security measures, the interval between trains and the likelihood of other platform-dwellers to cause a stir were all skipped.
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. On the other side of the tunnel another line cut off, descending even further below the streets, but most importantly offering us access to Lower Bay station. According to Wikipedia, Lower Bay is still used now and again to train new drivers, move trains between lines and also for the occasional film scene. We bargained that none of these occurances would coincide with our visit and pressed on down the tunnel.
Numbering seven, we were never really destined to be discreet, bursting out of the tunnel and up onto the dusty central platform. Fortunately for us there was nobody else here, although we could hear the far-off murmur of life uninterrupted on the surface. Our stay wasn't overly long - the station is largely empty and the tunnels fairly featureless. The lack of any commotion from above or from the tunnels suggested that our passage into the station had gone unnoticed, a realisation which served only to reinforce siologen's belief and keep our confidence suitably buoyed.
The finale to this endeavour then was to exit into the upper level of Bay station, a not unreasonable idea since the big locked stainless steel doors at the top of the stairs could easily be opened using the crash-bar on the inside. We clustered before the portal, made sure everyone was ready and then shoved the door open, just hoping that no flower seller, busker or hobo had set up shop on the other side. Our exit was clear and we appeared somewhere between the main entrance and the ticket barriers. If anyone saw us and objected, then we weren't going to be waiting around to discover the consequences. Instead we trailed out of the station and into the chilly night air, intent on finding one of the ubiquitous $3 street dog stands...
To the seasoned subway fiend each and every system has a distinctive feel to it. Toronto is no exception, and on arrival in the city I could see how in some ways it was very similar to New York's (mainly the construction and the rolling stock), whilst in other ways it was almost unique. Save for the platform-bound hopers waiting for opportunity to come knocking in the form of some kind of 'heritage day' visit, those rapid transit foamers who've got a pair will be only too aware that the parameters governing the potential for off-limits exploration in such systems vary (sometimes hugely) from one city to the next. And here we were with a fresh system, our only trump card siologen's bold declaration that in Canada "They don't care about security".
The subject of our affection on this particular night happened to be Toronto's sole disused subway station of note. Those aforementioned parameters surrounded us in the form of a battalion of dome-shaped security cameras, half a dozen passengers, reasonably frequent trains and of course that old friend and deterrent, the third rail. As is often the case, the particular station we were after could be reached from above... if you had the keys. Since what we were lacking in the key department we made up for with one big ol' cavalier attitude, usual research topics such as these security measures, the interval between trains and the likelihood of other platform-dwellers to cause a stir were all skipped.
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. On the other side of the tunnel another line cut off, descending even further below the streets, but most importantly offering us access to Lower Bay station. According to Wikipedia, Lower Bay is still used now and again to train new drivers, move trains between lines and also for the occasional film scene. We bargained that none of these occurances would coincide with our visit and pressed on down the tunnel.
Numbering seven, we were never really destined to be discreet, bursting out of the tunnel and up onto the dusty central platform. Fortunately for us there was nobody else here, although we could hear the far-off murmur of life uninterrupted on the surface. Our stay wasn't overly long - the station is largely empty and the tunnels fairly featureless. The lack of any commotion from above or from the tunnels suggested that our passage into the station had gone unnoticed, a realisation which served only to reinforce siologen's belief and keep our confidence suitably buoyed.
The finale to this endeavour then was to exit into the upper level of Bay station, a not unreasonable idea since the big locked stainless steel doors at the top of the stairs could easily be opened using the crash-bar on the inside. We clustered before the portal, made sure everyone was ready and then shoved the door open, just hoping that no flower seller, busker or hobo had set up shop on the other side. Our exit was clear and we appeared somewhere between the main entrance and the ticket barriers. If anyone saw us and objected, then we weren't going to be waiting around to discover the consequences. Instead we trailed out of the station and into the chilly night air, intent on finding one of the ubiquitous $3 street dog stands...
