Underground: Dark Drains

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Splashing footsteps echo off the walls. The dark air tastes humid and heavy. The water is not much higher than boot level, for now. Welcome to the drain, where the city takes its flush.

Under every urban sprawl, a network of underground passages funnel electricity and water and sometimes people. Often, the tunnels that drain our collective flushes and dishwater and shower rinses were once natural waterways: streams and marshes that have been buried under miles of asphalt.

Draining is a sub-genre within the community of urban exploration. As cities grow, compounding layers of infrastructure, secrecy and ruin, the exploration potential for “off limits” space continues to expand. Draining takes a very specific view of this sense of place. There’s something mischievous to the feeling of being underneath something top secret.

Dedicated draining networks have cropped up across the world in cities with extensive drain networks. Londoners have five levels of subterranean city to explore. And in Southeastern Australia, the enthusiastic draining group, Australian Cave Clan, has mapped and named an evocative series of passages underneath Melbourne: The Great Stairway, The Slide, The Maze, and G.O.D. (Great Oversized Darkie).

Where does the water go when it disappears underground? These are places that people aren’t supposed to go. You do not belong here, and everything about the environment seems set on reminding you of this fact. The black water ripples when you walk through it, and miles of claustrophobic brick tunnel reflect the noise back at you through the dark. If it starts raining, when the water level begins to rise, will the cramped tunnel broadcast your own hysterical wheezing back at you? Or will you stay calm?

Draining isn’t easy: it’s not climbing a construction site when no one’s looking. It takes detailed planning and a willingness to spend a long time in a dark place. Getting lost could mean death.

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