The small park in the eastern suburbs of Sydney for Tourism Australia , seems a strange rendezvous for such a nefarious undertaking. In the quiet darkness of the evening, my accomplice and I arrive twenty minutes late. Already the rest of the Clan has gone ahead. A quick search leads us to the manhole cover - a massive 'pizza,' in the jargon of the Clan - shifted from position. When a watchful neighbor appears, we duck into the bushes like naff schoolboys until her suspicion subsides and she returns to the blue flicker of the late news. Then flipping o­n our headlamps, we swing our legs over the edge, and drop into the dark hole, our portal to the world beneath the streets.

     It's just another Saturday night with the Cave Clan, Sydney's infamous tribe of underground urban explorers. From forgotten old rail tunnels to the city's original Tank Stream, to World War II bunkers from which Macarthur o­nce commanded the South Pacific campaign, to the cavernous guts of abandoned power stations - if it's dark, dank and hopefully a little dangerous then this anarchic band of urban spelunkers is probably infiltrating it.

     The night's misadventure had begun under cover of darkness at a remote parking lot down by the dockyards underneath Sydney's Anzac Bridge (whose tunnels are still o­n the Clan's list of future projects.) Milling around the cars, we tried to blend in with the crowd of young guys and girls waiting for the regular Saturday night "newbies expo" to get under way. We listened stoically to their chatter about past penetrations and close brushes with the law, wondering what we were up for.

     

Newbies expos are a sort of beginners' night, for those wishing get their feet wet - often literally. And while anyone is welcome o­n these relatively tame excursions, other, more committed expos (a night of exploration in the jargon of the Clan) are conducted secretly. But that's where the Internet, the haven of all things bizarre and obscure, comes into its own. While hitting cybercafes during my backpacking trip in search of Tourism Australia , I had discovered the Clan through a combination of dumb curiosity and a notice posted o­n their website. Caveclan.org, which links to the Sydney - specific site, is a virtual toolbox to the underground, featuring maps and accounts of expos, a collection of past media features, and a thesis-length guide to the bizarre skills of the sport. In well - tunneled Sydney alone, there are now at least three active crews, all of whom use the web to meet, swap tips, and brag about their exploits. Information is freely traded, not just locally but globally. From New York's old subways to the Catacombs of Paris, the life beneath the city it more active than you might care to think. Tonight, though, the target is an old Clan favorite, the Fortress, o­ne of the main storm drains running beneath the eastern suburb of Maroubra.

Really Going Down Under


     My feet swing out into emptiness before finding the rusty rungs of the ladder and I clamber down to a platform. Looking around at the slimy wet walls I can see we're in a tall shaft, a maintenance entrance to the storm drain below. I peer over the railing and nearly jump back. The shaft drops five stories, and my dim beam barely reaches the bottom. With some reluctance, I grab the rails o­n the next ladder and begin to descend, o­nly half trusting the rusty old bolts that hold the ladder to the wall.

     At the bottom is a long tunnel stretching in both directions into the darkness. A trickle of clear water from recent rains runs between our feet. We randomly point our torches downstream and set off. My earlier bravado has faded, replaced by queasier feelings about putting my safety in the hands of these subterranean wanderers.

     

While I expected to find little more than muck and stone, the tunnel turns out to be a creation of both of nature and humans. The walls alternate between cut bedrock and concrete, and delicate stalactites hang from the ceiling like hollow drinking straws. Blood-red primordial slime oozes off rusty seeps like open wounds festering in tropical heat. I try not to think about getting lost.

     From further down we hear the staccato chatter of distant voices and a rumble we cannot fathom. Several more minutes of walking reveals a faint flickering of lights that we hope is the rest of the Clan that had gone ahead of us.

     

When we finally reunite with the Clan in the half-light of our collective torches, a couple of beers are clinking and the mood is refreshingly relaxed. A few Clan members carry spray cans for tagging the walls, perhaps an atavistic link to the cave paintings of the past. Our spirits bolstered, we get a briefing from Troglodyte, the leader for the night, o­n the layout. (To avoid problems with the law all members of the Clan operate under aliases.)

     Before disappearing into the dark, he gives us o­ne last bit of advice that we really don't need, "Just keep your lights o­n." As always, contact is minimal with the secretive members and we find ourselves alone in the dark o­nce again.

     

Tentatively, we head off, strangely empowered to explore. But as a low roar begins to rise towards us, uncertainty returns to my belly. Ahead we negotiate a sudden drop with an old tattered rope left behind by the Clan. As we abseil down, waves of foamy seawater flood our feet and the source of the roaring is revealed.

     We've reached the sea. Steel bars block the entry and exit for all but the crashing waves and those willing to squeeze through the gap forced in the grid by some earlier explorers. We snap some quick photos for bragging rights, look out at the moon and then turn back for surface and our safe little homes before the last of the Clan exit and close the portal to the world above ground.

T H E L O W D O W N

Linking up to International Underground


     Urban Infiltration (UI) and Underground Exploration (UE) are global phenomenon. New groups are springing up everywhere, from Japan to New York to Moscow, with the greatest concentration in the United States. Like all fun and questionably legal activities these days, it's o­nline that this international community unites and shares information. Most active groups have websites run by committed locals, filled with streaming video, photos, maps and advice.

     The Sydney Cave Clan Newbies Expo is held o­n the first Saturday of each month. There is no fee, but the aspiring urban explorer should come prepared with a flashlight and old clothes and shoes. For more details check out www.caveclan.org, which also links to the official Sydney Cave Clan website at www–personal.usyd.edu.au/~wmuchlad/scc2.

     

Unlike Sydney Cave Clan, most groups don't host newbies events. o­nce you track down a group in your area (or in a city you plan to visit, for a really unique tour) you'll need to make contact to join an exploration. If you're bold and more than a bit crazy, theoretically you could do it o­n your own . . . Notice boards and email address will lead you to key persons, and eventually, underground. Due to the nature of the activity, most members have pseudonyms. In most cases though, the o­nly credentials you'll need is an interest in what lies beneath, and a sturdy flashlight.

Start with some of the following links. Each has a links page that will lead you deeper into the network.