The Duke of Wellington has been a fascination of mine ever since I first read about it. Constructed in 1922, largely out of brick, this tunnel connects the original downtown core of Hamilton with an outflow into Hamilton harbor at the base of Wellington St. Thus “The Duke of Wellington”.
For a long time I was hesitant to enter this drain, as it had been described as slightly more dirty/dangerous than those we had been accustomed to. As well, I had no idea where the entrance to it was, other than at the end of Wellington St., and I had no idea whether or not this entrance was actually accessible. For lack of better things to do one afternoon, “Sarah” and myself figured we might as well walk down and scope the place out.
We found the “outflow”, but there were only about 6 inches of it above water level, and inside a gated and locked compound at that. Still determined, we headed back up Wellington, looking for a possible entrance. I won’t give a great deal of detail as to how we got into the sewer, but it took us about an hour, and we did manage to make it in. After suiting up, we headed upstream.
The first section we found ourselves in was a large square prefab concrete one, with about 6 inches of waterflow. Right away we could tell that this was going to be considerably less pleasant than the Chedoke Creek- the water was foamy and in some places outright milky. There were large banks of loose collected sediment, which had a consistency I was unfamiliar with. The smell, too, grew steadilly worse as we headed towards the core of the city. Several large rats proceeded ahead of us, avoiding our lights, until occasionally they would deem themselves having gone too far, and rapidly turn around and attempt to dash past us. Quite exciting to try and guess when the next rat would rush us.
After walking for about half an hour, and perhaps a kilometer in distance, we encountered a large junction, with two R.C.P.s going off to either side. We knew from GIS that the one to the left disappeared somewhere in the vicinity of the top of Wentworth St., so we headed to the right. Here we first encountered the signature feature of the Duke of Wellington: it’s beautiful laid-brick R.C.P.s, which we would continue to walk through for the rest of our journey.
We followed these brick passages underneath Cannon St., as they steadily grew more and more nasty. While this may be classified as a storm sewer, it is effectively a combined one, and it’s disgusting the amount of filth that is allowed to flow untreated into Hamilton harbor. Condoms, syringes, toilet paper, and a thick chunky sediment that was undoubtedly sewage.
At several points along our journey, we encountered these odd large horseshoe-shaped pipes that intersected the drain, and proceeded upward at a steep angle for about 10 – 15 feet, at which point it looked like there was a chamber at the other side. The bottom of the “chute” was originally brick, but was so thoroughly caked with fecal matter that it was smooth and slick. Everytime we would pass one of these openings, the drain we were in would seem somewhat cleaner, which soon led me to think that these chutes were the source of a large portion of this pollution. Despite the nastiness of the passage, and the fact that it was only about three feet high, my curiosity eventually got the best of me. I left my camera and pack with Sarah, and, with my back braced against the roof of the slide, I managed to slowly inch my way up through the sludge, until I eventually emerged in a small room. At this point, I reached out to grab a small metal bar that protruded from a wall, and my foot slipped. I fell hard on my knee, and slid on my stomach all the way back down the chute, landing in about 6 inches of sewage in the main drain.
Disgusted, and with my knee in a fair deal of pain, I almost gave up. But I had to know what was up there; a small room three stories underneath the city core is not something you let pass by. I utilized the same strategy again, this time making sure my feet were secure before reaching out towards anything, and finally I was able to step onto flat ground. What I found was fascinating.
I was in a room, measuring perhaps 15 feet long, 8 feet wide, and 14 feet high. Occupying half of the room was a raised section of floor, through which ran a half-section of a 40cm or so pipe. A sewage main. It entered the room through a hole in the far wall, flowed through this trough open to the air, and then disappeared through a hole in the opposite wall. What was most fascinating was the large angled metal sheet which crossed over this section of half-pipe, right before it re-entered the wall. The pipe, being a little over half full, was having its excess sewage swept out of the pipe and onto the floor of the room I was in, where it was then free to flow down the chute and into the storm drain. It would be easy to imagine, on a busy afternoon, a good 50% of the sewage flowing through this pipe getting re-routed into the storm drain, and washed straight into the harbor. No wonder we can’t swim in it.
Sliding back down into the main passage, we continued for a time, feeling more and more discomfort as the drain gradually shrunk to 1600mm. This height in a normal drain would have been mildly uncomfortable, but the porus nature of the brick led to about 8 inches of roots/toilet paper/mineral formations hanging from the top of the R.C.P., sometimes so low that we would have to step around, rather than under them. The rats, too, were getting more numerous, and as the size of the pipe shrank, we found we were having a harder and harder time avoiding them as they dashed past us to safety. The discomfort caused by walking in a round pipe and trying to avoid the sewage at the bottom was also taking a toll on morale, and so it was with relief that we eventually encountered an end to the drain- somewhere underneath the intersection between Main St. and McNab. Here we encountered a deep pool, and about 20 feet above it, two other drains intersected the chamber from the west and east. There was a ladder, but climbing up through a waterfall with a sewage-pit of unknown depth beneath us was not terribly appealing at this point, so we headed back the way we came.
Concern was growing at this point as to how we’d get out of the sewer, as where we had entered was not a safe place to exit, and to pop out of a manhole on a random street in downtown Hamilton would be suicide for certain. At one point we thought we had located an exit into the lower parking lot at Jackson Square, but we found the hatch to be locked from the outside. Continuing on further, we checked each manhole by standing under it for a minute or so and waiting until we heard cars. Usualy it would take only a few seconds, but at one point along Cannon, we got lucky. Not only did no cars drive over, but we could see a tree above the slots. We climbed out to find ourselves in the courtyard of a small apartment building, and got only a few curious stares.
After sloshing our way over to a nearby park to change and have a quick bite to eat (we’d been underground now for about 5 hours), we went our seperate ways, both badly in need of a hot shower and a long nap.
Photography
I was a little disappointed with my performance in this drain. Usually I explore on the way in, and document on the way out, but seeing as we exited after only about a third of the return journey, I fear I may have missed some excellent opportunities.
I continued to experiment with using a high film speed and low light, occasionally even making use of the natural light that filtered down through manholes and ventilation grates. I should also mention that sections of this sewer were at times filled with a thick and foul smelling fog, which severely limited the depth of my shots in many photos, and also caused me to fear for the safety of my camera.
You will see to the right fascinating examples of the 1922 brickwork, as well as the substantial formations hanging from the top of the drain. I’ve also included a couple photos I shot of Sarah under natural light. The grainyness gives the pictures a filmlike quality that I’m rarely able to achieve with a dSLR.