Almost Caught at the Abandoned Church

Be prepared for many words and not so many pictures today. . .

I jumped right back into exploring today by going to some walking trails in Portsmouth to warm up for finally getting down into the basement of the Mater Spei Church to take some pictures (see this post if you're unfamiliar with the church). With my waist-high rainboots, I set off alone, for all my friends were busy.

I entered without difficulty, cutting around the "No Trespassing" sign. As I walked up the road, I noticed that large portions of land had been mowed and marking sticks had been put up all around the church. It seems that, as I predicted, the construction in the area will soon reach the church itself, and it'll go down as the condos go up around it.

Anyway, I went inside through my favorite entrance and soon got up to the second floor just to make sure I had no company before I went down to the basement. Just as I was about to leave this floor, however, I heard voices below me from outside. I rushed over to see two men coming up the path. They wore black shirts, but I could not see them very well (I'm near-sighted and was not wearing glasses). It was obvious from the start that they were interested in finding me when they began to stare through the window from a distance and move around, trying to make out a figure. These were definitely not some middle schools boys just wandering around.

Seeing they had a certain air of authority, I quickly turned to make a decision--either go up the stairs and hide on the highest place on the roof (fairly difficult to access) or go all the way down and hide in the flooded basement.

I made my way to the basement and had my rainboots on soon enough, stepping around and hiding behind a metal box in a dark corner of the basement. The water wasn't so deep as it's been pretty dry lately, maybe only about 6 inches deep at its deepest. Nonetheless, it was murky and uninviting.

I sat there in the musty cold dark for a few minutes before I heard the footsteps and voices of two or more grown men. I also heard the distinct clicking of flashlights. I now believe that these men were police officers watching over the area because (1) they were very interested in making sure I was found; they came around just above me on the stairwell three times, saying things like "they're not here" or "did you see/hear?" Any ordinary person would not have cared enough to pursue me with such motivation; (2) they were equipped with flashlights, which I imagine even all construction workers wouldn't have on their person at any given time; (3) they sounded like two confident men in about their 30s, and I did not get the impression that they felt they were entering some place they didn't feel they were supposed to be, just by how loud and disruptive they were.

I waited there in the dark for over an hour as they continued to pass through, walking around several floors above me. Every time I heard their footsteps or voices nearby, I swayed with my pounding heartbeat. It was pretty scary for me being cornered at that point, having no real escape besides up into their hands. You'd be surprised the lengths police will go just to ensure their decaying pile of junk (soon to be demolished anyway) is not disturbed by a curious guy trying to take pictures.

Also, did I mention the building is said to be haunted by the ghosts of nuns? I'm not very superstitious, but this only compounded the situation, as I sat alone with no service, unable to use my flashlight, in a creaking old basement. The basement was by far the most unsettling place, but pictures will have to wait for another time.

After about an hour, I slowly crept up the stairs and throughout the (dark) first floor, not using a flashlight lest it be seen. Fortunately for me, I know this place very well and the police officers seemed to be completely on foreign ground. I knew of an exact spot on the lower floor where I could climb up to a window, sneak around the side, and go straight into the woods nearby where I would find a path (albeit a prickly and long one) that would bring me right to where my car was, far away from the church--and that's just what I did.

As I was leaving the church I kept it very low-key, only looking around my immediate area. As far as I could see over there, they had given up and no police officers were to be seen, but it was more likely that they would be on the opposite side of the building, where they had seen me. Either way, I had a very close call today. I hopped in my car and drove off before I even took off my massive rainboots.

Unfortunately, I only got two pictures of the prep work they're doing around the church, and none of the basement. Taking pictures would require lighting the scene, which I couldn't do for obvious reasons. I plan to go back another time in the blackness of night where I don't have to worry about being seen as easily, though this will certainly make the place more unsettling. For now, here are my pictures:

On the left here you can see a field in front of the church. The last time I was here, that was all tall grass and there were no markers around it.

"NGRID EL"--National Grid Electric, I assume. This was among the marking sticks by the church.

Back to the Stables

If you haven't seen our post on these abandoned stables yet, check this out.

Today, Calypso and I returned to the Newport abandoned stables (also known as the Bells) with our friend who I will call Cleopatra. This time, I finally got up to the second floor and found it to be delightfully more interesting than the first floor. It was overgrown, mossy, and filled with all kinds of wreckage. It also contained more interesting and well-preserved graffiti. I also would have liked to get to the roof, but was not able to.

I also was able to crawl into the very tight crawlspace underneath the stables, which I've commented on previously. It was mostly filled up, but the tiny area with a little space to breathe was flooded. The whole thing was very small and I only got a couple feet in, but I believe what I crawled into used to be the entrance and stairway down to a cellar, which is now completely sealed up.

You can see a fireplace here.

Some heavy editing on this one.

The extent of the crawlspace, AKA "Wonderland"

Found in the nearby observational tower. This is the third abandoned site at which I've seen one of these guys, and I'm beginning to think there's a conspiracy.

A panorama of Easton's Beach (also known as First Beach) that Cleopatra took later in the day.

All Saints Drain--Interiors

(For exteriors of this location, see this post.)

First of all, a big thank you to Ryan Ademan AKA PunkUE. He's been the main explorer on the RI/MA scene since 2006, and a great inspiration to me personally. His photography is always stunning and he seems to have a real sense of what he's doing. You can see one of his latest blogs here and his (still active) facebook page here. He's also contributed greatly to the databases at uer.ca, a major international hub for urban explorers.

I found out about All Saints Drain from Ryan's blog, and after searching all around and following what leads I could get, I still couldn't find it. But after emailing Ryan a bit, I asked him if he would be willing to share the location of the drain with me. He told me where to find it and was even kind enough to provide an aerial map to help me.

Thanks to Ryan Ademan, I was able to access this drain and get some good shots of it over the past couple weeks that I feel pretty happy with. Here they are:

Establishing shot from outside just as a reminder.

The first tunnel I went down. It is relatively large in size but fairly long.

The first juncture.

The aged graffiti on top says "your life ends here" and points down to this tunnel. The redness in the tunnel below was enhanced on Photoshop by a new name to this blog, Vealius. Vealius hasn't been with us on any adventures but is very knowledgeable in photography.

That little dot of light at the end is the entrance.

I lit a few dozen real candles for some of these shots. Be careful of doing this in drains, as methane gas could possibly be in the air, and that would really ruin you day if you had an explosion on your hands.

Candles: lights on.

Candles: lights off.

You can see some plant spores down here. It is damp and there is sand, but this area receives very little to no sunlight, so I was quite surprised.

Ryan visited the drain a day before I got to fully explore any part of it, and told me he left a headlamp in there. I found it, still working, as you can see in this shot.

Ryan's headlamp. He was kind enough to let me keep it. You can see one of the shots above as well as some shots in other posts are lit with the red or white lights on this headlamp.

Candle set-up from a different day.

This shot was taken after I bumped my camera on long exposure, then stylized it with a program that "paints" the image.

Shot of the inside of the clay bricks.

A warning to those who dare venture down the clay sections: it's small enough so that you have to squat-walk for great distances, and on my first visit I spent over an hour down there with few opportunities to stand up. When I got out my legs were sore for the next couple days.


I explored just about as deep in as I could get over several visits, and almost completely alone. Some parts of the drain (deep down the clay sections) require crawling on hands and knees, and it can be pretty frightening down there when you're wedged in deep down a part of the drain, underground with no service, and you think you hear a human voice or footstep behind you. I took a couple different friends down there and their tolerance level for that kind of thing was much lower than mine.

This was taken in very dark lighting but using my camera's flash, which is something I rarely use, though I believe the shot came out nicely.

Vealius also worked some slight edits on this image in Photoshop.

A map I made of the drain. Excuse the poor quality. Lengths of tunnels not to scale.

Key for the map.

Once again, I couldn't have realized this aspiration without Ryan's help, so I have to thank him greatly for it.

All Saints Drain--Exteriors

Over the past week or so, I've done some exploring of the drain, inside and out. After today and yesterday, I finally got as far as I could with the exterior of the drain and now have some pictures to show of it. The drain flows out into an old and worn cobblestone path which runs through the woods, which I followed as far as I could to get these shots:

The drain's face from the cobblestone path it flows into.

This was covered in weeds when I first saw it on my first trip last Saturday. I would have never seen it had I not been looking for it.

The path during golden hours.

Eventually the cobblestone path fills with sand increasingly until it becomes a sandy, trash-filled path through the woods with many fallen trees and tree limbs.

Some finds along the path.

Notice how this shopping cart is partially submerged in the dirt.

This is the half-buried worn-out figure of an old bicycle.

Finally we reached something--a tiny isolated bridge through which shallow water flows.

The bridge is small, leads nowhere in particular, and is covered in graffiti. It pours out into some deeper water which becomes a river.

Under the bridge.

Other side.

Beaver damn up the river. I believe the river eventually leads to a very large drain, but I could not go any farther in just my rainboots.