Urbex Preservationism

I have a new name for my hobby…

Then there are the self-styled “guerilla preservationists”, deep into heritage theory, and genuinely committed to creating a coherent photographic and textual record of buildings that would otherwise crumble unnoticed until a developer arrived to raze all trace of them.

The strange world of urban exploration, Robert Macfarlane, September 2013.

Anyway, it’s a good article.

Shame Perth is so hell-bent on obliterating everything, whenever there’s development to be done. Fucking yellow sand and bulldozers!

Sitting near a fence

I am sitting on hot concrete near a fence and a sing that reads “NO THOROUGHFARE”. The concrete is a path (leading to the sign), the fence is pretty normal, and the sign doesn’t tell anyone anything that the locked gate doesn’t. I don’t suppose this gate is ever open; I’ve certainly never seen it so. It leads from a road to a carpark, and the carpark is accessed from a different road. I’m not sure who’s meant to walk from one to the other.

Photo of the sign.The sign, though: let me look at that. Why is it fixed to the steel pipe? That would’ve been put in for it specifically, wouldn’t it? No, on a second look, it does have a bracing function — the two parallel bars where there was no room for an angled brace down to the ground. But did they really need to put ten rivets in the thing?! And cut its corners away like that — it’s a nice touch, letting the tin lie flat on the pipes, but it seems like a lot of extra work for such a thing as this. No council did this, I think! And, once whoever it was had cut the corners and was about to drill all those holes — why didn’t they bother putting the blasted thin in the centre?! surely that’s not much extra work?

Still, some people — not that long ago — put a lot of work into a big concrete path, fence, gate, and the sign, all so that no one can go through here.


I really shouldn’t have bothered with that last post; siting in that office, my brain confuddled with fluro lights, cake, and the ‘net, I can never think well enough to write anything. I should get that by now.

So I’ve left the place, earlier than I should’ve, walked across town towards the dam wall, and am now sittin gleaning against a long, low, drystone wall. It’s something that I never should have expected to find here &hdash; seems to have been put here quite recently and possibly as part of the design of Tuggeranong. Although, maybe not, as it’s not absolutely straight; it wobbles a bit, heading off down the hill, through the trees and towards the river. I like it.

I’m only about thirty meters from the road, and as rush-hour is building so is the noise. But I was cold, walking over here, and now I’m out of the wind and fairly comfortable, so I might stay for a bit. I can’t see much, from here, that suggests I’m not on some random grazed hillside in the bush proper; the street lights poke above the grass off to my right, but mostly it’s all the dry brown-yellow of the soil and grass, with dark-green blotches of trees all over.

But this wall is starting to feel a bit too ‘new’ (or something) for this ground &hdash; maybe it’s that its path down the hill has been all-too-obviously cut by a bulldozer: there are no trees for three or four meters either side of the thing for as far as I can see, despite there being quite thick bush all around.

Having walked on a ways…

It is so good to be out of the office! So good to sit by this smelly creek with sharp rocks and wire to sit on, the clanking of an ibis and the roar of the traffic in my ears, and this beautiful, cooling, dusk all around.

* * *

So, I scrambled down the gully; squished my way across the pitifully-small trickle that seeps out from the bottom of the dam wall; climbed up the other side (burrowing under fences just whenever I could, wishing for a more robust, and smaller, bag for my notebook and camera); and got back to the main road just as a 314 was pulling up to take me home.