I've been getting quite interested in sewers and tunnels this year. First there was the visit in March to the Thames Tunnels (which I wrote about here). A week later I went on a guided walk as part of Obscura Day 2010, following the route of the Fleet River from Kentish Town all the way down to Blackfriars, which I didn't write about, although there are some photos here. Our guide was Tom Bolton, who is writing a book of walks following London's lost and hidden rivers, which is due to come out later this year from Strange Attractor. Of all of London's lost rivers it's the Fleet that I feel most connected to, having lived or worked or studied at points along its route almost all my life (more so than the Thames, in fact), and walking along the route with Tom was really fascinating, as he pointed out all sorts of things I'd previously just walked by without thinking about. Such as the way the old Eastern Hotel in front of King's Cross station is built on a curve because it followed the route of the river; or why Holborn Viaduct was built (it's really really obvious when you actually think about it, something I never did the whole time I worked at Holborn Circus); or the fact you can hear and even see water rushing beneath your feet if you peer down the grate outside the Prince Albert pub in Royal College Street (I posted about that place for another reason recently). After that I started to pay a bit more attention to grates and manholes in the streets (although I've always liked to notice coal holes).
Finding the Fleet River under Royal College Street
Interest in what is beneath our feet continued apace when I read The Great Stink by Clare Clark, a brilliant novel set in and around Joseph Bazalgette's enormous Victorian sewer regeneration scheme. It's an incredibly evocative book, describing the lives of sewer flushers and toshers in all its smelly detail, which was brought even more to life because I'd just bought a copy of Lost London, a fantastic book from English Heritage which is chock-full of photos of what London used to look like before it was levelled by urban regeneration and bombs. It was great to be able to compare descriptions of the Victorian streets in The Great Stink with contemporaneous photos of the same places in the Lost London book.
Joseph Bazalgette, engineer of the London Main Drainage System
Then Londonist visited the Northern Outfall Sewer at Abbey Mills (which I have walked on top of), and I spotted a discussion thread on the Brighton Flickr group about visiting some sewer tunnels in August. It's always funny watching the reactions from people when I tell them I want to explore a sewer. You can see their disgust, but really, would a water company give tours to the general public without making sure it was relatively safe and shit-free for them to be there? I mean, there was even a gig in one of the tunnels during the recent Great Escape festival: here's a photo). Aside from having to wear a hard hat to watch a band, it doesn't look that dirty. Anyway, we had to wear hard hats when we went to see Carlo Gatti's ice wells at the Canal Museum a couple of weeks ago. Although not a tunnel running beneath the streets, the ice wells are definitely subterranean, and as a result remain very cool whatever the weather. There's a nice piece on them here, which is well worth a read.
Today I read this article on one of Mexico City's two sewer divers over at the always edifying and constantly fascinating Edible Geography blog, and once again I was led to thinking about the shit beneath our feet, only this time I was prompted to write this post. It seems it's a recurring theme this year. Maybe it's a metaphor. Shit happens.
