Kowalski taking a practice climb up Siologen's cable ladder in the first
sub-level of the Toronto station.

Siologen's spot-on description of the night's events can be found here: siologen.livejournal.com/179448.html

During the summer months, the city of Niagara Falls, Canada, is nothing short of madness. Actually, it's pretty chaotic for most of the year, but in the Summer everything becomes amplified. The drunks are rowdier, the music is louder, the clothes are trashier, and everything else is just plain tackier. As Kowalski commented, it must drive the Americans nuts to have to look over across the river every night and witness the normally reserved Canadians out-Americanizing them on every level.

However, for all its manufactured delights, one is never more than a commemorative water bottle throw away from finding bona fide adventure. You just have to a) know where to look, and b) de-program the part of your brain that says "you can't go in there."

Providing the framework for fun are two decommissioned hydroelectric generating stations. Drawing power from the elevation difference provided by the Falls, The Toronto Power Company (found upstream from the cataract) and the Ontario Power Company (located near its base) are both now over a century old. At the time of their construction they were at the forefront of engineering, and even today they're probably the most impressive places I've been fortunate enough to be able to access.

Both stations are deceptive in appearances. Beneath the Toronto station lies an eight story deep pit allowed water from the river to drop down through the turbine blades below. Even deeper are two brick-lined tailrace tunnels that eventually meet to form a single 30 foot wide conduit, which discharged water out somewhere midway up the Horseshoe Falls.

On the other hand, the components of the Ontario station are spread out over a much wider area to the point where it's not at first obvious just how extensive this network really is. Some of the larger components (the station's main office and distribution house) have been demolished over the years to make way for things like casinos and who knows what else. Others remain intact or have been retro-fitted, most notably a large surge tank that now houses the large xenon bulbs illuminating the Falls.

Over the past year, I have been interested in three large distribution tunnels, the largest of which is 20 feet in diameter. Water entered these tunnels through a structure known as the gatehouse located upstream from the Falls, then traveled down a slight slope for about a two kilometers before dropping 200 feet through the penstocks and eventually reaching the station's turbines below.

The other weekend at the Falls, Teri and I were headed back to our car, when I noticed a couple of four foot high raised manhole shafts sitting right in the middle of the parking lot. One was used to hold a traffic sign but the other had a heavy lid with “OPGS” stamped on top. I was able to lift it an inch or so, just enough to know that it wasn't bolted or welded in place, while Teri gave me her disapproving "not now" face. My claim that "You could probably get into the tunnels through those things." didn't seem to help the situation any. We continued on back to the car.

After we got home, I emailed Kowalksi about the lids and he wrote me back:

“Regarding those raised shafts, I think we did lift one open slightly once and found that it had a second lid a few feet down. We determined it would be a serious operation to gain access through there, not exactly doable in a minute or two of frenzied action and far too visible to everything passing us on the parkway. The *better* possibility for getting into the intake tunnel would be to climb the larger of the two overflow tunnels that come out the front of the plant.”

But of course. And so it was last Saturday evening, after the long trek down, that Kowalksi, Dusty and I, found ourselves in front of the station in an attempt to climb these overflow pipes.

From the shoreline of the Niagara River, the view of the station together with the Falls is breathtaking. I’m sure the building was intended to look Romanesque, but there’s something about it that makes it seem more like an Egyptian temple. Compared to the more refined beauty of the Toronto station, this one always strikes me as being the hardened evil twin. It’s not something you can appreciate (let alone see) from the Canadian side until you’re right down there on the lap of its spillway.

Not wanting to waste any time, the three of us made our way over towards the outfall of the larger of the two overflow pipes, taking care not to slip on the rocky outcrops that we’d occasionally have to navigate. The vegetation here seemed unique; not surprising given the level of moisture that’s forever in the air as a result of the neighbouring falls. Some plants were thorny, others thick, rubbery and robust; a far cry from the tamer botanical offerings found at street level. It felt as though I was on another planet.

Overflow Pipe #1

After a short jump down a rounded concrete channel, we arrived at the entrance of the larger of the two overflows: a thick rusted 100 year old steel pipe, three meters wide with a small stream of water and strip of green grass growing out from the sediment in the middle.

Michael had been inside here before, but only went up part way. We knew that after ten meters or so of relative flatness, things would really start to angle upwards, somewhere between 45 and 50 degrees. Normally that sort of slope would present a challenge. Even the dinkiest little concrete incline in storm drains can cause one to fall ass over tea kettle if not careful. In the case of this particular pipe, though, the rusted steel provided a nice, evenly abrasive surface. So long as I kept my weight ahead of me a little and watched for sections where debris had collected, things were fine, even while carrying a fair amount of gear on my back.

175 feet upwards and two rests later, the pipe started turning right. Further up around the bend was Kowalksi who I heard ask “What the hell?” When I finally caught up with him I saw what was so confusing. The pipe gradually widened and changed into what was essentially a big square chamber with a divider running down its middle forming two channels. Looking up we could see the sky. We had no idea where we were. We later found out we were standing right underneath the middle of this building, the one that's currently used to light up the Falls.

Unfortunately that’s as far we were going to get though. The 90 degree walls had no ladders and were unscalable. Feeling slightly dejected Michael and I decided to take a few pictures looking back down through the anatomical looking conduit we were standing in. A few minutes later we started making our way back down: a bit trickier than the ascent, but still manageable so long as you took your time and watched your footing. Hiking boots: essential.

Overflow Pipe #2

After getting back to the outside world, we decided to take exterior shots of the station; not so easy given the Falls made it seem as though we were standing in a rain storm. I couldn’t keep my lens dry and had to settle for some rather sketchy looking photos that probably weren't quite the risk of getting spotted while essentially light-painting the entire front face of the building. Next time I think I'll heed Kowalksi's advice and take photos before they kill the lights on the Falls. Everyone loves pictures of the Falls. Even me, sometimes.

The second overflow pipe was roughly the same angle, but about a meter or two less in diameter. There was less air coming down through it which I took to mean that it wasn't going to be open at the top like the last one. I was hoping for something different than the last one. Pressing on up the incline, things started to get a bit complicated, when the pipe gradually became partially lined with concrete. There was only a small stream of water coming down through it, but it was enough to make things just a little bit too slippery. I had to get down on all fours to continue any further.

Eventually the pipe started opening up and curving to the right. At this point it was full-on concrete. Kowalski, who was squatted about 30 feet behind me, slipped a few feet then came to a stop. It was at this point that he decided to turn around, sensing that his treads boots weren't going to be enough to get him any further. I crawled up another dozen or so feet, just enough to catch a glimpse of where this particular pipe was leading: right into the big round surge tank.

There was a metal barricade cutting across the bottom, but it was high enough to climb over. I wanted in. Unfortunately, as things were getting a bit steeper, debris and my two year old boots were starting to get the better me. I started sliding, but managed to prevent myself from going any further by using the slight curve in the wall. I decided that I had officially reached my limit. I slowly baby-stepped my way back down the pipe and back out to the front of the station where Kowalksi and Dusty were waiting. We exchanged personal slipping stories and agreed that if we are ever able to get into that particular surge tank, we would have to go out and buy new boots.

We treked back out, up the long hill, past the entrance to the Maid of the Mist, back through the madness of Clifton Hill, made even madder by the number of drunks that were now busy poring out from the closing bars. We were filthy. We were covered in mud and rust and I felt like I just returned from fighting some sort of war: Man VS Engineering. We eventually found our way back to the car, drove off and by 5:00 AM, we were back in sleepy Toronto.

Did Toronto's Lower Bay subway station with Jim. Despite previous reservations about it being too dangerous, or worse, boring, it ended up being dead easy and fairly interesting as well. True, it's just like almost every other Toronto subway station out there, but this one has a layer of filth all over it to give it a somewhat different atmosphere. Plus, there's the fact that you have to walk along active lines which helped make the whole trip feel kind of satisfying. Like snot-nosed kids tend to do, I used to stare out the window of the subway and wonder what it'd be like to go through the the tunnel by foot instead. And now I know. Fortunately no oncoming trains or stumbles onto the third rail put a damper on things.

Went down to Niagara Falls with Teri, Chris and Soraya, strictly for traditional tourism reasons. We visited the awful Rock and Roll wax museum, ate shitty food at Denny's (never again) and wandered around gawking at things as though we were slack jawed yokels. Eventually we ended up at the Fallsview casino where I took as many pictures as I could before security told me in as many words to knock it the fuck off. Good to know that they at least give you a warning and dont try tampering with your camera instead. I kind of want to go to other casinos now to see what I can get away with. I have a bit of a thing for Slot machine players. They always look as though they're in another world, one which contains no joy whatsoever.

Did Park Drive again, this time with Kendall, Dusty and Brad. I'm not sure how much they enjoyed the drain itself, but they seemed to like the part where we exited via the manhole on a quiet little residential street. About five minutes after setting the lid back in place, a cop pulled up to ask if we had seen anyone rolling a "sewer cover" around, to which I responded "no." Meanwhile, we're all sitting around the thing, with rubber boots, backpacks, flashlights, and pools of water lying everywhere. "What are you guys up to then?" The look he gave me after I told him that we'd "just finished hiking through a ravine down the street" (technically true) was priceless. It's the one that says "I don't believe a word you're saying, yet I can find humour in what I think is really the truth." And then he just drove off, leaving us to wonder just what he could've done had I told him what it was we were really doing.

A few things I've done since Thursday:

Did the very foggy Park Drive storm drain with Jim and Jon. Roughly 6km long with eight waterfalls, three of which were multi-staged and hee-yuge. Lots of ladders and catwalks to traverse through. Fun, but kind of annoying at the same time. Packing and unpacking of gear: sometimes felt like work.

Went to Buffalo with Teri on Saturday. Drove around in the rain a lot. Went to the Albright Knox gallery. Bought a guidebook to Buffalo's architecture. Went out to Cheektowaga for Southern-style BBQ. Stopped at Niagara Falls (New York) on the way back home. Took a look at Goat Island for the first time. Decided that, despite what everyone says, the US side of the Falls is a lot nicer than the Canadian side and more along the lines of what a national park should be.

With the help of Mr. Chop Chops, did The Vault in Hamilton with Jim. Was forced to play air guitar (and later air drums) for what will most likely be Jim's worst drainer photograph to date.

Took a quick stroll through an old rolling mill that was chock o' block full of machinery and scrap metal. Kind of boring. Wouldn't bother going back and take pictures.

Drove back to Buffalo again to take try and take another stab at Buffalo State Hospital. Got sidetracked by downtrodden residential areas instead. Took lots of pictures and talked to a few people along the way. Eventually got inside an old WWII factory. Great light but pretty trashed. Lots of crack paraphernalia lying around. Shot a roll and a bit before leaving to catch the golden light along Main Street for some storefront signage shots.

Drove home. Died of exhaustion.

This past weekend, Teri and I were interviewed by Hal Niedzviecki for an upcoming cbc radio show focusing on urban exploration. I wasn't expecting to have to talk for an hour and a half, and I was a bit nervous, but I think it went ok. Teri helped things out quite a bit. It always makes things better when you have someone else to help finish your sentences for you. The following day, Jim, Michael and I took Hal and the show's producer Lindsay through the first kilometer of Toronto's Westview Greenbelt drain. I let veteran drainers Jim and Michael do the talking (and in some cases singing) for this one. I didn't feel so comfortable talking about an element of this hobby that I'm still fairly new to. As a result "Sometimes you see raccoons" was probably the extent of my insight. I hope they don't use that. Yet, at the same time, I hope they do.

Spent Saturday night at Lakeview Generating Station taking exterior photos around its four stacks before they come tumbling down on June 16th. Might make a couple more trips before then since I'm pretty sure my film's going to come back underexposed. Was using up a roll of Velvia as well. Not exactly the best film to use when shooting in low light conditions.

Lately I've become a little bit interested in the University of Toronto's network of steam tunnels. I never really gave them much thought, but then Teri and I recently passed by a manhole at Spadina Crescent that had the words "UofT Steam Tunnel" spray painted in front of it and I suddenly got the urge to go down and have a look. Went back last night with a pair of pliers (the poor man's t-lifter), popped the lid and sure enough, a tunnel. Well, sort of. It was tiny and not the sort of thing that you could squeeze through easily. Them pipes seemed pretty hot, too.

Decided to walk around part of the campus and see what else I could find. Came across a series of other larger, well-sealed lids marked as "steam" complete with markings on the road indicating which direction things run. Couldn't tell if this stuff was tagged by students (who tend to explore such things) or by personelle working for the university. Either way, it's the sort of stuff that comes in handy and gives me something to look out for the next time I happen to be cutting across campus, or you know, when I have nothing else better to do in the middle of the night.

Despite attempts to try and reinvent itself, Sudbury is first and foremost a mining city. A mining city. Sure, Ontario has its share of mining towns (Timmins, included), but Sudbury is a city. A small one of 150k, but a city nonetheless. It has office towers, a public transit system, an airport, a nightlife (well, sort of), a university, shopping malls and yes, even Big Box stores, too. At the heart of all this action, though

For the past couple of evenings I've been trying to plan things out for a trip up to the moon (aka Sudbury, Ontario) this upcoming holiday weekend. Yep. Kendall and myself are heading back to the good old INCO nickel tailing ponds, and hopefully this time we'll have some better light to work with. Last time it was fairly overcast and we only really had a half hour or so of what I'd consider to be good light.

Maybe it's just a reaction to all the hype surrounding them, but I've never really been too interested in abandoned asylums. People are always going on about how they’re "spooky" or "haunted", and I just find it all kind of boring. While there is a creepiness factor that I find a little bit endearing on some level, it's not something I'd go too far out of my way to experience.

Link o' the day: Milton Rogovin

Lately, I've been making my way through Portraits in Steel, a book that focuses on a dozen steel mill workers from Buffalo and Lackawanna, NY. For each worker, there are three portraits: one taken while working, one taken at home with family members, and a third taken in the home setting roughly ten years or so after the mills closed. At the back of the book are interviews with each subject. They're asked to discuss the photos, their families, their experiences both before and after losing their jobs. It's an engrossing read and sheds a bit of light on the places I've had the chance to visit such as Bethlehem and Atlas Steel.

The photos are similar to the work of Lewis Hine, but where his material tended to border a bit on the side of gimmickry (a symptom of his era), Rogovin's portraits are decidedly more diplomatic and straightforward. At the same time, they're a lot more subtle. They encourage you to study the details more carefully, like how the house is decorated or the ways in which workers and their families have aged.

It's really good stuff.