I climbed higher and found myself in a space between the cell and the huge concrete
structure to the north, the one that resembled a 1950s diving board on steroids.
I considered climbing further, but decided against it, realising that to do so would
put me in full view of the gatehouse. In the meantime, Tom was making a lot of noise
near a large pipe, so I found a route across, and after some climbing, squatting, and
jumping, eventually found him.
"You’ve got to see this."
(How many times had we said this to each other?)
He walked up some wooden stairs into a small wooden hut crudely built over one of the pipes.
Normally I would’ve just walked past this, seeing it as some temporary, shoddy structure.
However, he’d noticed that there were various bolted access hatches to the interior of the
pipes here; and one was simply covered with a rough, plywood door. He moved it open and it
creaked; the metal walkway we stood on shook and moaned as well, and now I understood why
he was so noisy. Tom disappeared inside the pipe.
The western entrance to Cell 1.
03|03|07 © Simon Cornwell 2007