Shades of Grey

I used to think that the word derelict meant a building in danger of falling down. I have come to realise that It doesn’t, it simply means empty; not being used for its intended purpose (or indeed any purpose). It is easy to think it means more than that as the word gets applied to people as well, particularly vagrants. In the case of vessels, it means abandoned and the only time a crew would abandon a ship would be when there is imminent danger (or perhaps it has been deliberately scuttled).

Urban Explorers (UrbExers) have an unusual hobby; namely getting access into derelict buildings, exploring them and photographing them for posterity. The more scummier type of explorer has less noble motives for getting inside a building. It might be to steal fixtures (particularly copper) or to trash the place in an orgy of vandalistic destruction. The more noble type of UrbExer looks down on such behaviour with distain, referring to places where this has happened as having been Pikeyed or Chaved.

Because of the laws of trespass, entering without actually breaking in is generally not a criminal offence so the worries of “getting busted” are not particularly high on an UrbExer’s concerns. Much higher than that is safety, of course, as some buildings can be massively dangerous when decades of decay have taken their toll. Drains can be particularly unpredictable but there are also decayed floors, whacked out druggies  and aggressive pigeons to worry about.

I have my own history of UrbExing, but generally in a low risk manner. I have explored many theatres and cinemas top to bottom but generally with (some) knowledge of the management that I was in the building. When I worked in the Newcastle City hall I had several methods of getting in to the City baths next door, going for a bit of a swim lit only by streetlamps through the windows whilst shows were on. Looking back at it now it seems very reckless as I could only swim a couple of widths at the time, which is a couple of widths more than I can swim these days! Of course the invincibility of youth assured me that I couldn’t get into trouble. On one occasion, I found that the doors to the Turkish Baths area were unlocked and I explored this strange space. A succession of ornate rooms with exotic names (Tepidarium anyone?) was marred visually by the presence of Corporation deckchairs for sitting in. There was still residual heat around (particularly in the steam room) and I went as a paying punter one day to satisfy my curiousity. These days I much prefer a Sauna to a Turkish, although I did have a memorable trip to the fabulously ornate Harrogate Baths Turkish Suite a few years ago with Round Table.

I am a fairly regular visitor to 28 Days Later, one of the more prominent (& very busy) UrbEx sites. On clicking around the unread posts, I suddenly had a massive flash of Deja-Vu; seeing the innards of the Tyne Bridge. Travelling in the lifts in the North Bastion was reasonably common (my Granddad used to take me for a trip in them when we went down to the Quayside Market on Sunday mornings) but I was mooching around the South Bastion one day some 35 years ago when I found a boy sized hole in the door. This led into a substantial space criss-crossed with girders and a stone staircase that led all the way up to bridge level on the eastern side. Indeed the stairs continued up another level to a sort of inner platform  with tiny windows at battlement level where pigeons came to roost (& complain noisily about intruders!) Halfway up this staircase was a door that led out onto gantry walkways within the girder space, but a lot of the flooring was missing and I was sensible enough to realise that what remained might not be too secure.

I also managed to “get busted” on one occasion- after school, I hopped on the bus over to Gateshed to explore that car park with the Restaurant that never was on the roof, as made famous by “Get Carter”.  As I went into the lift, a couple of other kids followed me in, followed by a shout from an authority figure. The lift doors closed and it went on its merry way, then we got that sinking feeling as the man in uniform had operated the Fireman’s “Return to Ground” key.  Nothing actually came of it, even though we had our names and addresses taken and the man thought it unlikely that I had come straight from school. (As it happened, buses had arrived just as I wanted them so it was unlikely but true).

Another time I was copped was exploring the roof of the Strand Palace Hotel in the Strand. The Public rooms on the Ground floor were very grand but upstairs in the guest areas it was a lot more higgledy piggledy and somewhat lacking in investment back then (1980). I was staying there at the time (GEC had a preferred Corporate Rate) and feeling restless one night decided to have a snoop around. I managed to find my way in to several plant rooms, including the lift hoist rooms. On trying again the following night however, I was met by the house detective (he really claimed that was his job title!) who lost interest when I realised I wasn’t a master criminal with knee suckers planning a jewel heist. I imagine that if you try it these days though, doors are alarmed and sensitive spaces have infra-red movement detectors.

I have managed to do quite a bit of legitimate UrbExing, generally related to tenders and contracts for work. I have visited theatres undergoing refurbishment where the site Engineers have led me off into unusual spaces for me of offer my opinion on what some unidentifiable (to them) piece of stage (or other) engineering has been. I have stood on the canopy of the unfinished Birmingham Concert Hall when it was 10′ above the stage. I have stared at the auditorium of the stripped out Richmond Theatre wondering if it would ever look plush again. I have boggled at the understage machinery at Theatre Royal Drury Lane and the Tyne Theatre & Opera House. I once even got a guided tour of a Crematorium behind the scenes after sorting out a problem with their catafalque drapes. I have to say that I envy Billy Connolly though, getting paid to go up huge Glasgow Docks Cranes, on top of the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the pinnacles of the Sydney Opera House roof. …and being married to Pamela Stevenson, of course. Getifuyabasa!