Severalls
Asylum / Essex / 11-Sept-2004 Groobs, NutBolt, JonDoe & Stoop_Master.
Account
written by: Groobs
Wow.
This account could end there, and I’d almost be satisfied that
I would have accurately summarised just how great this exploration was… almost.
But, those that have read my meandering, idealistic waffle before will know
that I don’t give up that easily! This trip was significant for so many reasons,
not least because my car and I had to endure a six-hundred mile round trip
to get here! Ahem, but the rest is ALL positive J
This trip was the first ‘Collaboration’ for [S-P], long overdue
perhaps, having combined efforts with JonDoe & Stoop_Master
from the Sub-Urban group, and NutBolt from Nobodythere. (Please
see our Links page for access to their respective websites) As most of us
seemed to agree, it was quite strange coming to terms with being relative
strangers, brought together only by the common will to clamber in, up, through,
around and back down everything Severalls had to offer. It was expected, and
proved to be, quite interesting meeting other explorers and this was in fact,
one of the things that made this exploration even more memorable. I would
admit that some of the stuff we did on this trip, I probably wouldn’t have
tried under normal circumstances, so for all the remarkable stuff we saw –
I guess I can only be grateful for the influence. We had the added advantage
of experience on our side too, with NutBolt’s knowledge, gathered from
three prior visits, certainly greasing the wheels, so to speak.
Unlike many other sites we’ve targeted for a quality rummage,
Severalls is notable for my outright ignorance of any useful pre-trip info,
perhaps relying on that prior knowledge a little too much. This had the surprisingly
pleasant effect of creating a sense of the unknown. Having no idea of what
to expect, in fact meant that everything was unquestionably impressive. Result.
The pessimist is never disappointed with ignorant bliss. Or something.
First stop: Main Hall. The grand, cavernous, tomato-soup coloured,
belly-of-the-beast. Faltering shards of sunlight reached through the tall
windows to illuminate mock-chandelier light fittings that swung slowly in
the breeze, as glass crunched underfoot. Drawn to the stage, it wasn’t long
before efforts were made to get up into the roofspace of the building via
a submarine ladder. As you can see from the pictures, the structure was in
good order really, and getting such an elevated perspective on the main hall
was a treat. I had a quick look under the stage and discovered all the weathered
props and junk you might expect, but spent less time examining them in favour
of moving onwards through some wards headed for engineering.
The unspoken attraction towards the water tower was halted
only temporarily by the thoroughly impressive boiler room, replete with all
the buttons, dials and cranks you could wish for, but we could only be halted
for so long. Access to the water tower proved initially problematic, given
that the ground level was flooded with murky green muck, and entry to the
structure was achieved only through an awkward clambering/balancing act. Now
this water tower business is a first for me at this point, but I’m assured
by the veterans that Severalls is the last word in water towers, and I can
believe it. Six stories of looming sturdiness, shot through with rust and
pigeon-crap, accompanied by the eerie moans of the wind gusting through cracked
windows and flapping balcony doors. Each of us agreed that it would convert
to an amazing residence – and if I ever hit rock bottom and end up with nowhere
to live, I might just say – ‘to hell with it’ and take my trolley-full
of bottom-dwelling crap to Severalls and be at one with the pigeons. (Though
I might be deterred by the three-hundred mile trolley-dash) The view was incredible
from the balconies, themselves a seemingly unnecessary touch for a relatively
functional part of the asylum. From up here, the scale of Severalls becomes
hard to ignore, as you can see from the title shot, looking east reveals quiet,
abandoned buildings almost as far as you can see. On the way back down I managed
to give myself a minor scare, in trying to steady a ladder for Stoop,
something gave way as a direct result of my completely amateur structural
analysis of a table. As Stoop succeeded in getting out of the way just
in time, I lunged forward involuntarily and nearly ended up head first in
the basement muck. A lucky escape then.
On to the mortuary, where the sight of the ‘fridge’ leads to
perhaps inappropriately cheerful banter about being locked in, the unknown
crystalised residue on the body-trays and the mystery of dead-body-logistics.
Only a brief visit though, as there seems to be very little to see here. Move
along please. Admin is next, ever-so-slightly ordinary in comparison with
the already burgeoning weight of deadgood stuff we’d seen, we made tracks
for subway access. And this is where I started to stroke my chin a little
more than normal.
You see, when I was fourteen, I opted into an adventure training
week on Bodmin Moor with my school. For the most part it was great, kayaking,
abseiling, getting drunk on Merrydown cider – you know the drill. Towards
the end of the week though, one exercise in particular really got to me. I
was roped together (literally, not metaphorically) with a bunch of schoolmates
and told to climb through an old mining chain-run, about eighteen inches high
and only a few feet wide, these channels, often fifty or more feet in length,
served to keep chains below ground and out of the way – and my god if they’re
not the scariest place to be wedged in between a bunch of snail-paced kids!
It was here that I suffered some kind of claustrophobic episode, my sanity
clinging onto the fact that I was admittedly fortunate enough to have a highly
fanciable girls ass in my face during the entire episode. Small consolation
though, for having realised that I’m a bit rubbish in dark, enclosed spaces.
So, having watched Stoop_Master and NutBolt deftly
crawl into the tunnel through a small hatch, I considered my options… which
is easy when you don’t have any. Here I go. I clambered into the musty, cramped
space and felt strangely at ease? What’s this? I thought. Down here, in the
dark, with an utterly bonk flashlight? At ease? Yes indeed. I was OK for the
most part! With only one moment of tension occurring when I began to think
of daylight and a way out, I kinda surprised myself. It was in fact, cracking
fun, ferreting around down there and not knowing where you’re going to pop
up. It turns out that after ten or fifteen minutes, we emerged at ‘Frog House’,
as can be seen in the pictures – an odd little outhouse in the middle of the
woods! Interesting stuff.
By this point, the day was beginning to get a little late and
we decided it would be a good idea to head back, particularly given the long
drives some of us had! But hell, if I wasn’t impressed by the days activities!
We’d seen some good stuff today, and lots of it in fact, so I felt no shame
at all in heading back. We walked back past the chapel and out onto a footpath
that took us out onto the main road, the sense of a good days work done, evoking
memories of heading home as a kid with muddy hands and bloodied knees from
a full day of arsing about! Quality.
Thanks must go in closing, to NutBolt, JonDoe &
Stoop_Master, for an excellent day, and indeed for making my monolithic
journey to Essex well and truly worthwhile. Cheers.
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