Triple Word Score

So, after going with Shane to those caves, and getting shaken down for every little bit of information I had about underground Rochester, he finally held up his end of the deal: taking me draining in Buffalo. I already knew exactly what I wanted. I’d even been to the entrance of it once, when the water was too high. It took some convincing to go here instead of Lockport but once I showed him what I thought I knew, he was all about it.

Right from the entrance Scajaquada is an epic drain: instead of an outfall, and going upstream into smaller tunnels, this was an IN-fall, taking in an entire small river into a 25×50 foot concrete pipe!

One of my favorite sights in all exploring: what’s beyond the bend?

Off of the giant tunnel there are a series of older brick branches, sewers and storm drains that once flowed into the creek and are now diverted into what appears to be an even more massive, inaccessible tunnel under this one

These branches are the perfect draining drains: ancient brickwork that is just tall enough to stand up in.

I even managed, by mostly dumb luck (I admit it) to get a drain shot I actually like. When I saw this I started to think maybe I got my artistic eye back from wherever I lost it last week.

This is Shane, with the giant flashlight cannon that made the previous shot possible.

The tunnel finally ended after close to six miles, in Forest Lawn Cemetery, after dark, with one of those wrought iron impaler fences. needless to say, it was a bit of a tight escape, and even once we got out we were basically lost in Buffalo, 6 miles from Shane’s car, soaking wet and in waders. Oops. I don’t think we took into account just how weird we’d look when we got back topside.

We got onto a bus, after a bit of a hassle when Shane for some reason unknown to all of us decided we deserved to board without paying the fare. I’m sure the driver didn’t even want us there, smelling like sewer and all, before Shane’s libertarian antics, but whatever. I was glad when we got back to Cheektowaga and off of the bus without even being suspected of much… but as soon as the reward was over, and the reeking boots stowed in the trunk, Shane made haste to the nearest bar to loosen me up and try to get any more information I had out of me. I guess exploring with a scumbag is just the price to pay for not having a car, but I really get the idea none of this was for planning future trips together.

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