New York City, New York State //
Slinging the Red Hook
New York City grain silo rappel
Date October 2009
Posted April 2011
Posted April 2011
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 - just incase something went wrong. He bundled the whole lot into a bag and then we were back out on the chilly Brooklyn streets where winter was certainly setting in. The cornershop provided beer; the subway and buses provided transport, out into the shady Red Hook district.
We passed between two playing fields, ignoring the football spectators in the hope that they'd ignore us. Outside the glare of the floodlights we crossed onto the big wasteland before the towering ruin of the grain terminal. This massive hulk of redundant industry stands defiant in the face of its long-overdue demolition. Up on the roof of this machine we kicked back with some big bottles of beer, an enviable view at our disposal. NYC on an almost clear night, and oh how I'd miss her, for my time here was running short. So short in fact that I'd be missing a party here at the grain terminal the following week.
The empty bottles were tossed out into the night air, the line was rigged and one at a time we dropped through a hole into one of the silos. A strange experience altogether, even though we knew that there was an exit hole at the bottom. Just the strange feeling of dropping into something tall, round and smooth-sided, a vessel that should never normally be entered by such means.
We passed between two playing fields, ignoring the football spectators in the hope that they'd ignore us. Outside the glare of the floodlights we crossed onto the big wasteland before the towering ruin of the grain terminal. This massive hulk of redundant industry stands defiant in the face of its long-overdue demolition. Up on the roof of this machine we kicked back with some big bottles of beer, an enviable view at our disposal. NYC on an almost clear night, and oh how I'd miss her, for my time here was running short. So short in fact that I'd be missing a party here at the grain terminal the following week.
The empty bottles were tossed out into the night air, the line was rigged and one at a time we dropped through a hole into one of the silos. A strange experience altogether, even though we knew that there was an exit hole at the bottom. Just the strange feeling of dropping into something tall, round and smooth-sided, a vessel that should never normally be entered by such means.
