Labyrinth has always been a subject of heated debate. Confusion as to its route, its integration and interaction with other sewers and also as to where the line should be drawn between itself and other systems. On a map it looks like a tangled spiders web of incomprehensibility, and with the knowledge of the area at the time, we likely made things worse with our assumptions.

Primarily, the main bulk of Labyrinth exists within the 1924, North Western Storm Relief and the smaller 1904, North Kensington Relief Sewer which coils it like a snake. Being the largest storm relief in North West London it serves multiple interceptors and sewers including the Middle Level Sewer No*1+2, Counters Creek, Ranelagh Main Line and the West Hammersmith Storm Relief.

Those familiar with whats under London will instantly recognise the upstream sections of Labyrinth, the sweeping red and blue brick, curved staircases and large overflow chambers first featured on Sub-urban make it a popular destination for those wanting to experience a drain with minimal contact with sewage. The downstream sections however, are less hospitable. Now used as a storage tunnel, the photogenic brick is lost behind a wall of concrete, the dry floor now 2ft deep is festering sludge, noxious gasses and toxins bubbling to the surface with every step. Even without the gas detector telling us, we knew it wasn’t safe to be there, progression permanently cancelled.

Those who have tried to contact me with requests may have noticed i am sometime cold with my responses, especially when the request is along the lines of ”can you take me X,Y,X”. This is mainly due to a few bad experiences, the worst of all occurring within this drain. Now I don’t usually take strangers in sewers, mostly because i don’t have the time to do tours, and secondly because i don’t want to. However, when someone contacts me that seems to have a genuine interest in what we do, beyond that of ”oh that’s cool”, i may be more inclined.

The person in question (who will remain unnamed) wasn’t fresh faced in terms of exploration, had been in caves, tunnels, culverts and spent three consecutive days underground within the Paris catacombs, as such i presumed he was fine with confined spaces. For the most part he was, we trundled along upper sections, taking pictures and admiring the architecture, then for what ever reason, he snapped. His breathing became erratic, his eyes looked like they were about to burst from his skull and his articulation was reduced to that of a child. He kept yelling “we need to leave, we need to leave” but as we were some distance from an exit, i tried my best to calm him. It was no good, our slow pace turned into a sprint, by the time we finally arrived at the ladder he was at breaking point.

Practically leaping the ladder i threw the manhole up, and fell. While rushed my feet had slipped from the rung i stood upon, i reached out, clawing for some form of hold to stop myself falling further, clasping onto the covers edge. No sooner had i stopped, my hand cried in pain as a loud bang echoed within the shaft. The partially opened manhole had slammed shut, breaking five of my fingers and wedging me within the shaft. My body in shock, adrenaline took over, lifting the cover with my shoulder and slouching against a nearby wall. “I need to go get my bus, hope your ok”, the parting words of man who followed, p***k.

I will always remember this one occasion, a personal lesson learned when it comes to taking the inexperienced into a sewer. It was my fault, my mistake on both counts, but one i vowed i would never make again as i sat on the bus, hands throbbing as i headed for the hospital.