Dank boundaries and dripping fixtures. Steamy interchanges, if you're lucky. The brutal quiet punctuated by echoing cries of discovery and the dull ping of a manhole strike. Something glints in the distance. Hidden from view and lost from memory, another world lies beneath.
Storm drains carry water, not shit. This is important. This also does not apply in Old Places.
Drains tend to be full of idiosyncratic engineering that is completely lacking in veneer. It's always a pleasure to speculate about the function of the infrastructure unimpeded by facade.
Example: The pipe above was fitted with the rubber footer you see, possibly for back flow control. The flow will open the fitting if necessary, but close when pressure drops to the point of possible back flow.
The method of walking down a drain is something of an art. If your footwear sucks, you'll likely want to avoid the center stream to keep dry. But even with proper footwear, the center often has slippery mineral and plant buildups that complicate easy movement. Thus, the so called 'drain walk' was born. You walk on one side of the pipe, above the water line. Simple, right? Predictably, it's not as easy as it sounds. Given the slope, one tends to get quite unbalanced after just a few steps. To fix this, the instinct is to hop to the other side.
See where this is going?
Step step, hop. Step step hop.
It's tiring, but it works. The alternative is somewhat messier.
You'll want some buddies.
I lit these shots with a pair of CN160s on mini-tripods, with some help from my compatriot's flashlights.
My camera was a Fuji X100. I also used a Zoom H1 for sound recording.
Don't try this at home, unless you really want to.