An image of the Chew Valley covered in snow. The Reservoir is immediately behind and the portal to the Siphon is on the left hand side.
I thought when I started selecting locations the Chew Reservoir Siphon might be a bit boring, but it would be a good safe explore and I’d have no bother. I first tried it the Sunday before last where we had snow and gales. When most people were turning around on the track to the Chew, I at least made it most of the way around the edges before deciding that I was going to die and should probably turn back. Fast forward a week or two and I thought I’d give it another crack…
History
It looks like more information has been released onto the world wide web since TLR’s explore, so I can add a bit of background…
The Chew Reservoir was created between 1907 and 1912 and it was required to be built by an 1870 Act of Parliament. It is connected to the Swineshaw reservoirs in the Brushes Valley by the Siphon I was about to explore. The Siphon itself is (allegedly) 631 yards or 561 meters long (although I think it should be measured again by someone bigger with lots of kit).
To create the Chew, the first thing the workers had to do was clear the peat to make a trench 3 meters wide and 43.5 meters deep. That was filled with concrete and puddle clay to prevent any leaks through possible fissures. Stone was quarried locally. Some was dressed to create the slipway and the valve tower. And, of course, the pretty portal to the Syphon…
Severe weather, a cement shortage, a coal strike and shooting season delayed the works. This was a time when landowners shooting grouse and pheasant was more important than peasants drinking water. In 1909, there were an incredible 550 men working on the Chew to get it finished on time, although that included the system of weirs below.
On the 2nd December 1912 they started to fill the reservoir, but as these things go, it leaked. No one had invented gaffer tape, so they poured cement into deep bore holes in the hope that filling deep bore holes with cement was the right thing to do. It wasn’t. The right thing to do was make the reservoir 129 meters bigger or invent Spray Crete (but Spray Crete would not come until much later and that is why the Chew is 129 meters bigger than originally intended). It wasn’t until January 1914 that the reservoir was finally full without any leaks.
The Chew Reservoir takes drainage from 830 acres. The area of top water is 39 acres. It will hold 206 million gallons of water and it is 72 feet deep. It is a very big, dark, lagoon of cold unbreathing.
This is the bit of the Chew’s history that got me. Building the reservoir was tough and plenty of accidents happened. This just a handful. A boiler that winched trucks burst in April 1908, lacerating and badly scalding a couple of workers. A man died and another was injured by a projectile rock when gelignite unexpectedly exploded in December 1908. Some poor bastard thought he’d got off lightly with a minor finger cut in May 1909, but he died of sepsis and pneumonia not long after. In August 1909, a poor chap had his spine severed by the driving belt of a stone crusher. He died, what must have been a horrible death as a result. June 1910 saw a man buried under a skip of clay. And February 1911 brought around another Gelignite explosion; one that blew a man’s nose off and his eyes out.
The building of these reservoirs really was a feat of engineering, but just as much, incredible human labour. I can’t say I’ve appreciated that until now and I reckon each reservoir probably has a similar story.
My Explore
On my way up to the Siphon, the United Utilities van was coming down. The reservoirs were full and overflowing and I wondered if it was operating. Not that I expected that to be a problem. It was grim out and paths had been transformed to waterfalls by the rain. I decided to approach the Siphon from Indian’s head rather than the Chew Reservoir, which as it turns out was probably the wrong thing to do. After ages of navigating waterfalls, I made it to the siphon and poked about taking the traditional portal shot. It’s really nice dressed gritstone and that extends someway into the tunnel supporting the siphon, but not nearly far enough.
After taking my shot I entered the portal and on reaching the valve a little way in, realised just how big my arse is and that all the kit I’d brought to take pretty photos was a terribly bad idea. Plus, I couldn’t do anything crafty with lighting with the limited space I had anyway. I got passed the valve, after a while…
It’s definitely a stoop, made much more awkward by the pipe. The pipe is positioned to one side, so someone has possibly had the idea at some stage that the tunnel should support someone walking along it. But, whoever this person was, they were very small and must think that everyone else comes in miniature size too. And, I reckon, they weren’t very good at measuring distance either, since the tunnel feels to be at least 17 miles long when you’re crawling along it on your knees. The nicely dressed stone gives way to other stonework, which is covered in lime pointing. I took some more photos and carried on.
I did turn around. Once. To take a shot of the entrance portal. It was like getting past the valve again!
And on. And on.
Sheep occasionally must come through the tunnel, because there were bits of wool along the pipe. There are sections of the pipe that look like they’ve been replaced and other bits are rusty.
I heard the pipe gurgling on the way in and not long after could hear running water. The floor turned from wet at the portal to dry not long after. Then, some way into the tunnel I was wading through and occasionally kneeling in ankle deep water. I wasn’t wearing wellies, because I wasn’t expecting the Siphon to be leaking.
I stopped taking photos because it was difficult carrying my camera on its tripod and there wasn’t much interesting to take photos of.
In the end the weather was absolutely horrendous and I was never going to navigate back across the moors in those conditions, so I crawled back out through the way I came in. The rucksack that I carry my camera in has taken quite a hammering from failing to stoop properly and grinding against the passage.
Despite looking like I’d fallen in the Chew when I got back to my car nearly four hours after setting off, I am happy I did the explore. It’s one of those places you see as a kid and want to go in. Plus, I’ve learnt to keep my kit to a minimum and not carry extra lenses.
Photos!
I like to mess about with light, which is why there are different colours. But, it was impossible to do much with it in the limited space…
This is the entrance portal...
After a wee bit of a wander, looking towards the exit portal. You can just make out the light at the end 17 miles in the distance.
Turned around here to take a photo of the entrance portal behind and it's valve of awkwardness. The dressed stone looks nice...
Turned around again and kept wandering. This next image is further towards the portal where the water was starting to cover my feet. And it was then I put my camera away...
Hope you enjoy the report - cheers
