Friday night, after a large storm (which flooded many streets, knocked down 100's of trees in the city, created piles of hail, and left many areas without power), the water level was much lower than usual, giving the Canoe Tunnel entrance at least 18" of clearance (they probably adjusted the lock and dam to allow extra water to pass through).
We stacked our inner tubes in the main room and proceeded to the conveyor-belt entrance. The ladder was no where to be found, so Matt climbed up the entrance. He then found the ladder and we continued along the conveyor belt tunnel. Most of the tunnel (including sections that are normally dry) was filled with 6" of very cold, red water. We reached the mill basement and found it still intact (the rest of the building had been torn down that spring). Every exit (except for one side tunnel) was completely blocked by cement debris. The air was harder to breathe than normal and there was more strange water on the floor. We noted some rat tracks (through the water) and tracks of something larger. There were several islands with 6" white grass growing. We then went to my house, showered, and ate a stack of $1.79 frozen pizzas.
After several missions cancelled due to high water in the Canoe Tunnel, on Friday night, the water was finally low enough. We went in on inner tubes laying on our backs (this allowed us to push off the ceiling, but was an extremely uncomfortable position to maintain over long periods of time; next time we will go on our stomachs). The tunnel was rectangular, about 12' wide and 10' high, filled with 9' of water, giving us a narrow band of air in which to move. After about 50' of this, we reached the high room, where the ceiling is about 15' above the water (and the water is still about 8' deep). The room has a 10' by 2' ledge. Above the ledge, in the ceiling, is a manhole cover that we need to investigate someday (we would need to bring in a ladder to do so). This was as far as we had made it previously, and conditions were much better this time (last time the water was covered with logs), but we still did not continue. Getting up the first section of tunnel was difficult, and after the room, the tunnel becomes circular (15' diameter with more than 14' of water), further limiting the air supply.
On Sunday afternoon, I built the 3rd boat designed to get into the lower Canoe Tunnel entrance. This one was much simpler and cheaper than previous ones, consisting simply of three plastic trash cans attached to a wooden frame with wheels on top (to roll along the top of the tunnel). In theory, it is to hold three people and just enough extra weight to be stable, and have a rather low clearance. On Sunday night we attempted to use the new boat. We got down to the river about 10pm and were walking down the path to the bank when suddenly a spotlight from the lower lock and dam pointed at us. It moved around up and down the river area for a moment, than stopped again, point directly at us. We jumped into the bushes, and climbed up the hillside through the trees, leaving behind the boat parts and an inner tube. On the way back to the car we heard people (probably homeless people) yelling down at us from atop the Gold Medal building. There were also various other noises, and by the time we got back to the car, we were rather scared. We drove randomly around, looking for a way to get to the lower lock and dam. We drove around some weird, old dirt river roads and ended up in a parking lot under a highway. We got out and walked in the direction of the lock, and found a place that we could look down on it from the top of the bluff. It turned out that there was a large barge and tug boat going through the lock. It was heading toward our entrance, so we needed to kill some more time. We drove over to the other side of downtown and finally managed to locate a place marked "shaft" above the Canoe Tunnel about a mile upstream from the entrance. It was in a parking lot we couldn't get to, but it looked like it wouldn't have done much good to get to it; it was apparently just a large slab of cement. Around 11:30, we went back to the path. The boat and tube were (surprisingly) still there. We brought them down to the river and assembled the boat behind some trees. The water level was high enough that we decided that it would be best to leave the boat in the main room up the main tunnel. We filled it half way with water, sailed it up the tunnel (without any people in it), and chained it up on the triangular ledge. In the future, we should be able to sail it out of that tunnel, up the river (about 30') and into the Canoe Tunnel.
During the last year, our main goal has been getting up the Canoe Tunnel. About 2 years ago, when we obtained our sewer maps, we noticed that they showed a large (hundreds of feet across) cave directly under the center of downtown. We spent a year attempting to reach it via various branches of our main entrance, and got within a half block of it, but were unable to get up the tunnel leading to the cave (the NMT). A year ago, it was surmised that the Canoe Tunnel might connect to the top of the NMT (allowing one to float into the cave from above). We tried getting into the top of the Canoe Tunnel, but were very nearly arrested. We tried getting into the bottom, but determined that it wasn't actually the correct tunnel (due to a mislabeled map). It was then determined that the real Canoe Tunnel outlet is about 40' from our main entrance. The entrance has deep water and 6 to 12 inches (depending on the mood of the dam operators) of air between the water and the ceiling. We built three low-riding boats to enter this, but still had trouble with the low clearance (and all three were eventually lost due to being stored in the tunnels during huge rain storms; the most recent boat, built during expedition 32, was loaded down with 200 lbs of cement and chained to the walls, but still washed away (those who question water flow during storms should note this)). At least a dozen attempts at the Canoe Tunnel have been cancelled due to high water. Three expeditions actually entered the tunnel, but got no further than 50 feet, reaching a ledge area, after which the amount of air at the top of the tunnel decreases even further. Last night, we decided to give up on boats and inner tubes, and climbed into the muddy Mississippi with only life jackets and plastic wrapped flashlights. We were up to our chins in unpleasant water, but we had little trouble with the low clearance of the tunnel. After several hundred feet of just enough air to keep you face dry, the tunnel ceiling rose. The ceiling became a smooth, pointed arch, the walls were vertical, and the floor was far enough below that we couldn't reach it. It was about 8 feet wide and had 10 to 15 feet of air above the water. The water stayed at about river level and had a small current. The air and water were reasonable, so we continued. We swam for over an hour, and aside from a gentle turn in the tunnel, nothing changed. The tunnel didn't have a single downspout, side tunnel, or any handholds. (There was, at one point, a smiley face drawn on the wall using sewer crack-patching material.) If we stopped to rest, we soon were floating slowly back down stream, so we swam continuously for blocks. We eventually encountered a 6 inch diameter downspout and we heard rumbling water ahead, but we were getting rather tired, and had decided on a better way to approach the tunnel next time, so we turned back. At about this point, I realized that I had lost my car keys. The keys are attached to a piece of foam, such that they don't sink on draining expeditions, but they had most likely fallen out when we got in and were long gone. Thus, as we floated back down the tunnel, we started planning how we would call for someone to pick us up. As we swam out of the entrance, and were blinded by the lights of the riverfront, I found them, floating in the river. We also found a flashlight we had lost earlier. Things were suddenly very pleasant as we climbed out of the water and walked up the bank. Then we saw a police car parked with its lights on (but not flashing) in the flat area above the entrance. We quickly walked by it and were soon safely back to the car. Tonight we are going fishing.
Our covert fishing operation was successful. On Tuesday night we went down to the river with a canoe, paddles, life jackets, fishing poles, other fishing gear, buckets, rope, flashlights, and batteries. We had a boat license and fishing license, but we weren't going fishing (but if anyone caught us carrying the canoe around, then, yes, we were fishing). We put the canoe in the river, and filled it with water. We then placed several large rocks in it. The water level was higher than normal, so, despite the rocks and water, it was still buoyant enough to hit the ceiling in the tunnel. We had about 6 inches of clearance for the 50 feet up to the room with a ledge (where we left the fishing poles). After that, it was much worse; the circular portion of the tunnel had only about 4 inches of air between the water and the ceiling. We could keep only our nose and eyes in the air. We continued like this, with the canoe and our equipment. Very slowly the ceiling rose, until, after a couple hundred feet, it quickly opened up and we had almost 10 feet of air above the tunnel. We then unsank the canoe (which was somewhat challenging because it was carrying rocks and we couldn't touch the floor or hold on to the walls) and used the buckets to bail most of the water out. With one person paddling and one person steering (pushing off the walls whenever we got too close) we covered in 10 minutes what took an hour or more to swim. The tunnel continued to rise until water became rough and we hit the floor. We moved the canoe downstream where the water was calm and about waist deep, tied a rope around one of the rocks and put it in the water as an anchor. We continued on foot through a section of sloped tunnel where the water was only an inch or two deep, but was flowing with amazing velocity. You could walk in it, but each time you set your foot down, water would splash in everywhere. The tunnel then be came more level and the water became slower and deeper (but still had notable current). The tunnel was still the same size; about 20' high and 8' wide with a curved floor and a pointed arch ceiling. Not terribly much further, the tunnel became wide and a side tunnel branched to the right. The side tunnel was large (10 or more feet high) but contained only a small amount of cold, slowly-moving water. We passed a healthy-looking mouse running slowly along the side of the tunnel, and thought that we could be close to an exit. The tunnel, however, continued perfectly straight, for a very long time. Eventually, we came to a room with two upstream branches and a ladder to the a manhole cover about 50 feet above. I climbed up, and tried for a while to push open the manhole cover. I could shake it and cause large amount of dirt to come down on us, but to open it, I finally had to put my back up to it and lift it with my shoulders. I opened it far enough to see outside and found that it was near a highway I had never seen before. I could see downtown over a hill, but I couldn't figure out where we were. I looked around enough to remember the location if I visited it from the surface and then went back down. We spent a while exploring various side tunnels, and found that they split in many directions and had several other manhole covers (which all sounded like they were quite near busy roads).
As we walked back down the main tunnel, we saw a mouse (it looked a lot like the one we had seen before). It was struggling to walk on the wet, sloped wall next to the water. We knew that each end of the tunnel was completely impassible for a mouse, and that the only side tunnel went for a quite ways before reaching anything at all like an exit. We got out a gallon plastic bag and managed to scoop it up. We carried it back to the canoe, and when we sunk the canoe to get past the low ceiling, we inflated the bag and tied it shut. When we were finally outside on the river bank, we opened the bag let the mouse loose. We put the canoe on the car and went straight to Perkins, still wet and covered in dirt. We had been underground for almost 5 hours and the sky was beginning to get light by the time we got home. Less than 2 hours after falling asleep, I had to get up to bike to work.
On Thursday night we had an expedition with more people than any previous expedition. We entered via the main man hole cover, and went up the right tunnel, we opened the gate to the raging river and looked around on the scaffolding there for a while. We then went up to the Washington tunnel, and traversed it all the way to the Hennepin tunnel.
We walked back down to the main room and then went up the left tunnel to show people the conveyor belts. Unfortunately, someone had placed a large metal plate over our entrance. Just for fun we visited the end of the left tunnel (where it heads straight up and has very cold water pouring down; it could be passable with a long ladder, but unfortunately our ladder was behind the metal plate). We found a bowling ball. It seemed somewhat out of place in the sewers. Mike took it home.
We returned to the Canoe Tunnel hoping to explore the unexplored side tunnels. For the second time, we entered using the elaborate canoe procedure. Unfortunately, it had rained the day before. Parts of the tunnel that had been shallow enough for walking, were now covered in a rushing river, unpassable by canoe, by foot, or by swimming.
After slowly drifting for about ten minutes, we reached the low ceiling. Here we had to submerge the canoe and float through the narrow clearance of the circular tunnel, just as we had done to get in. For fun, we tipped the canoe, and sunk it as we were still in it (it's not everyday you get to sit in a sinking canoe). With all the gear packed up and tied down, we sat in the water-filled canoe and proceeded down the circular 15' tunnel with 14.75' of water. Once we entered the tunnel, our seating order was fixed: I sat in the back, Tom sat in front of me, Clint sat in front of Tom, and Mike sat in the front. As we continued, the water got closer and closer to the ceiling, which is normal, given that the ceiling slopes down. This was the sixth one-way trip down the tunnel, so we were comfortable being up to our nose in water. However, it soon became uncomfortably low, and we didn't know how much lower it would get. We could see some faint light from outside, so we knew the tunnel was still passable, and for all we knew this was as low as it was going to get. What really made things difficult was the 17' canoe, loaded with bulky gear and rocks. As we went, the canoe would swing around, pushing you against the ceiling, pulling you under water, or pushing you to the side (which, given the circular shape of the tunnel, was the same as pushing you underwater).
To exercise any of these three options, you have to know which way is up. Since no one could find their flashlights (except one), it was dark enough that was easy to get disoriented. If you lost your orientation, you would end up breathing in some water (this happened several times to me, and several times to others). Also, all the while, we each had to remain as calm as possible; if you panicked and started choking, there would certainly be nothing anyone else could do to save you. But it was also possible to be too calm. I remember seeing Tom's head floating motionless in the water, reaching out to find him not responding, and thinking he drowned. Then, the canoe got stuck. It was finally clear to everyone that we should leave the canoe behind. We were in the process of attempting to get out of the canoe when we found that the rope Mike had running to his flashlight (the only flashlight we still had accessible) had gotten tangled around the canoe bars. He tried freeing himself, but was unsuccessful. So, we pushed the canoe along, just barely moving, knowing that at any moment, our last centimeters of air could disappear. After continuing to struggle along, the canoe suddenly hit a pillar in the middle of the tunnel. We knew that this pillar meant we were very near the room with the high ceiling, and that just 20 meters past that was the exit. We, unfortunately, were still in the low area, and could no longer push the canoe. Mike submerged himself and attempted underwater to find his knife and cut the rope. In the process he lost his knife and the flashlight. Then, still underwater, in complete darkness, he managed to take off his life jacket, untie the rope, and get free. I knew that freedom was near, but the canoe, people and gear were blocking my way. I had to sit and wait, and hope that my inch of pitch-black reality would continue to exist. With Mike out of the canoe, Clint was also able to get out. Tom, however, was far enough back, that he had to dive underwater, and swim under the canoe. Somehow he managed to find the room. Finally, with everyone out of the way, we were able to move the canoe around the pillar, and I was able to get out into the room. We soon were out on the shore, dripping and shaking from the experience. We knew that if things had gone slightly differently, one or more of us would not be standing there. The cave under downtown (the Holy Grail of Minneapolis draining) had become utterly unimportant; we were happy just to be alive. |
Saturday night,
the night of our first expedition of the year, the water level was back
up. We just had inner tubes, so we couldn't fit in the 6" of clearance at
the lower Canoe Tunnel entrance (at least not without getting our equipment
wet). Thus, we decided to go up the main entrance and check out the
building. The beaver was still swimming and splashing around the
entrance. The water contained a lot of leaves and twigs due to the storm.
We walked back down the long side tunnel, reached the main tunnel, and
continued up it. We could hear a loud rumbling ahead. After a while, we
found a large tunnel branching to the left, about 10 feet above the floor.
We might have been able to scale the wall and reach it, but we were more
curious about the sound of crashing water ahead. Whatever was causing the
noise seemed to be just ahead in the darkness, but we walked further, and
it just got louder. Eventually, it was so loud we could only communicate
by yelling in each other's ears, but we could still see nothing ahead in
the tunnel. Then we found it; the tunnel opened into a very large room
containing a waterfall, 25 to 30 feet high, and about 20 feet wide. The
floor of the room was complete ly flat, and covered with just 6 inches of
water. The amount of water crashing down seemed immense, but we could
walk right up to it, and even around and behind it. It was certainly one
of the most interesting things we had seen in our years of draining .
We had never bothered going up the Hennepin tunnel, mostly because it is
filled with a couple feet of sand. We saw a signature from where
expedition 5 or 6 had turned back (in 1996). Nada and Kris had been
there. As we continued, we found places where one's legs would sink into
the wet, strange, unpleasant-looking sand. The sand continued to rise
until there was barely enough room to bend down and waddle along. It
would have been easier to crawl, but we didn't want to touch the ground.
Then, suddenly, the sand disappeared and we could stand upright (at least
those of us that aren't particularly tall). The tunnel changed shape and
went up hill a bit. Each block had street signs for small dead-end side
tunnels, so we knew where we were on the map, but this did little good, as
the tunnel went right off the edge of the paper. There were odd numbers
(actually, sometimes they were even) on the wall which seemed generally to
be counting down, and so we hoped they were counting down to the end.
Eventually, after a very long time in this straight, repetitive tunnel
(with bad air and a rocky and sandy floor), the numbers reached zero and
we reached a brick wall. It wasn't very interesting, but at least we knew
where the tunnel went. We were about two miles from the entrance, which
is as far as one can get in that tunnel system (though you can get much
further in other nearby tunnel systems).
So we turned back. As we got close to the exit, we stopped paddling, sat
in the canoe, and relaxed. As the water gently flowed beneath us, we got
out our lighting system, ate granola bars, talked, and took photos.
By the time it became really apparent that we should turn back or get out
of the canoe, we could no longer communicate such ideas. There was so
little air you had three choices: put your head upright, and see people
struggling ahead, put your head to the side, and hear people yelling and
swearing and saying they can't breathe, or put your head back, and
breathe.