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CityscapesAquatic dangers in subterranean Seoul

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Models pose inside an underground river, April 22, 2016. Places like this become dangerous during rainfall. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun
Models pose inside an underground river, April 22, 2016. Places like this become dangerous during rainfall. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

By Ron Bandun

As the nation is facing heavy downpour, eyes are turned to river levels and water infrastructure. Although disaster tourism seems distasteful to me, I've returned to some of my usual underworld entrances to see how Seoul handles rain at critical levels. Some of the tunnel entrances are flooded, while others are not, sometimes even in the same tunnels but upstream. It's always strange to see places you've occupied suddenly made inaccessible, in this case by rising waters.

The top rule of urban explorers, even above the one about leaving only footprints and taking only pictures, is "When it rains, no drains." It even rhymes!

The city government knows it is true, as you can see in the closure of Seoul's many water bodies, not just the Han River but also Cheonggye Stream and many others like it. The dangers around these waters are swift and unpredictable. And the threat isn't immediate from precipitation alone, but can strike even when the sky is clear after the rain stops, with the opening of flood gates. I've encountered these gates underground and they always freak me out.

Giant valves stand ready to discharge massive amounts of water in Seoul, May 29, 2010. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun
Giant valves stand ready to discharge massive amounts of water in Seoul, May 29, 2010. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

When I was young, maybe 10, I was enjoying a sunny day with friends by a small creek, no more than two meters wide, when suddenly a huge gush of water thundered up that creek and pulled me in. I saved myself by grabbing onto some reeds.

So when I venture into subterranean infrastructure such as the city's many underground rivers, I do so after consulting weather forecasts, after having studied a sobering tome of urban exploring underground known as "Predator's Approach to Draining," and after stocking up on supplies. The dangers are real.

One of my most dangerous misadventures with an underground river happened in February 2011. It took place in a brief aboveground section between the tunnels we call the Host Tunnel (where it is believed the 2006 movie "The Host" was filmed) and the upstream Bone Tunnel (which gets its name because it was filled with bones).

An urban explorer stands in the entrance to the Bone Tunnel under Seoul, Jan. 2, 2015. This place doubles as a storm drain during heavy rain. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun
An urban explorer stands in the entrance to the Bone Tunnel under Seoul, Jan. 2, 2015. This place doubles as a storm drain during heavy rain. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

There used to be a big concrete train bridge separating the entrances to both these tunnels, and the only way from one to the other was through these concrete slots intended to let water flow past. They all conveyed fast-flowing murky water of unknown depth, and made human passage impossible. So we waited for the dead of winter when the water iced over.

Our first crossing was after sunset on Lunar New Year 2010. The concrete slot was about 50 meters long, and maybe 150 centimeters high, which meant we had to crouch as we went across. I hurried ahead of my companions, mainly so I could photograph them coming out. We made it through, entered the Bone Tunnel for the first time and then returned safely.

Two urban explorers scramble under a train bridge while the water is frozen on Jan. 31, 2010. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun
Two urban explorers scramble under a train bridge while the water is frozen on Jan. 31, 2010. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun

We came back a couple weeks later, this time around Valentine's Day. The weather had warmed up, just below freezing, but the ice still looked strong.

Once again I rushed ahead, hoping to reshoot my friends coming out but in daylight this time. As I neared the far end, there was a huge crack and the ice broke beneath me. I fell in and my hit feet bottom about a meter beneath the surface, immersing me almost up to my groin. My camera was out in my hand and I was lucky that I held on and didn't drop it in the water.

Behind me, one of my companions cried out my name and ran to the rescue. She got to the edge of the ice, and it broke off, dumping her in the water with me.

We scrambled out onto the ice shelf, and the sharp edge cut my jeans and even drew blood. Forgetting all safety rules about thin ice, we both ran together back to safety. Once on solid ground, we started trying to dry off in the freezing weather. I dumped out my rubber boots which had filled with oily black water, while our other companions laughed at us.

The bridge, which I believe dated back to the 1910-45 Japanese occupation, has since been replaced, and crossing has become trivial. Once while we visited at night during the renovation process, one of my companions tried to climb onto a concrete ledge, only to discover it was merely a concrete divider a foot long, with a channel of fast-flowing water on the other side. He took an unexpected bath and rescued himself, and I didn't notice until he was beside me, dripping wet.

An urban explorer climbs a ladder in an underground chamber in Seoul, Oct. 4, 2017. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun
An urban explorer climbs a ladder in an underground chamber in Seoul, Oct. 4, 2017. / Courtesy of Ron Bandun
The worst incident I've heard of happened sometime later that year, when some other people decided to host a party in the mouth of one of the great underground rivers. This one is a little smaller than the Host Tunnel and the entrance is well-paved, so in normal conditions it's nice and dry. Their online invitation said "Come rain or shine," and the day of the party it was raining heavily. They went through with it anyway, setting up equipment for playing music, making art and whatever else. During the party, the underground river exerted its drainage function and a huge gush of water surged out, washing much of their equipment into the river and almost them with it.

This incident serves as a reminder to respect not just nature but also the urban infrastructure that keeps the city from going underwater.

Ron Bandun is a self-described "anarchaeologist." He does not recommend underground rivers for everybody due to the many dangers.





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