11pm. North London. Under the yellow streetlights two explorers shuffle through backstreets to an 06 plate blue Honda Civic, the one with a semi-automatic gear box and the electric wingmirrors. They get in and the explore of a lifetime begins. They knew that what they were about to do would be epic, but could not have predicted just how epic it would prove to be.
Arriving at the site while still dark enabled our two intrepid explorers to begin to infiltrate the facility under the cover of darkness, initially with only the perfume of nature for company as the distant rollercoaster looms out of the ground like the spine of some prehistoric beast caught in a moment of vertical suspense. Wait! What was that noise? Hit the floor. Waiting. Waiting. Footsteps. Heavy breathing. He moves on. He didn't see us. Not even close to the first fence or off of the pavement of Park Hall Road yet, and already security is hot. Too hot.
Leaving the road our two heroes merge into the hedgeline. After what seems like an eternity they find the first fenceline. The sun will come up soon. It is essential they act quickly. The first approaches the fence to determine just how they will circumvent this metallic hurdle. Barbed wire. The antithesis of each and every explorer. With the care and precision of a cat the first explorer makes it over, and lands safely, diving in a nearby bush to take cover. He texts his partner in crime that the coast is clear. For now.
As the second explorer makes her way over the fence things instantly go wrong. A strange noise comes from the burnt down shed inside the next perimeter wall. Stay calm. Don't panic. Look for cover. No torch. What's that?! PIR! Behind this corner! What was that noise? It must be the security guard! No! Dogs! Barking! Approaching! Sod the PIR! RUN! Over the second fence! Quick! Quick! Through here! Down! The security and dogs had been quickly lost, as they went silent. It did not stay silent for long.
Within minutes sirens can be heard racing past on the main road, their neon blue lights briefly lighting the hiding space of the two explorers inside the very heart of the once-great castle. No wonder the security and their dogs had only been heard for a split second. They had phoned the police immediately. The explorers covered themselves in a rotting carpet, discarded like a sweet wrapper thrown from the uncaring sausage fingers of James Corndon. Instantly the hundreds of creepy crawlies that had made the carpet their home fled the carpet. One explorer wants to scream at the sheer horror of the situation, but bravely holds her fear in. Now they wait, pledging not to emerge from beneath their rugged hiding place for six hours, until they could be sure that the police were off site, and that security had changed shift.
Six long torturous hours passed, with nothing to eat but one finger of a four finger kitkat and the remains of a ham and cheddar toastie from the Starbucks at Leicester Forest East Service Station, probably the best service station in the the UK. Maybe second behind Fleet. Definitely better than Hartshead Moor on the M62. There was little to drink either. The explorers hadn't heard a peep since their run in with the security, dogs, PIR and police hours early. Slowly, they removed the carpet, and after the initial burn of sunlight had faded from their bleary eyes, they took in the majesty of their surroundings.
I'm going to come out of third person now. Given the amount of reports on camelotland I figured it was an epic so we made the trip for it. I've had a look at a few reports by other people and quite frankly my photos are the best I've seen of it - the rest of you may as well give up on this place and stop posting inferior shit. This is the best coverage of the holy grail, the jewel in the crown, nay the pinnacle of UK exploring right now. Quite frankly, the site - and my photo - made me cumalot.
This is where we hid from security.
As I took the photo below I thought I saw security again, but it was just a tile falling off of turret. You can see the fine craft that went into building such an epic location once you get close to the castle - what appears to be stone is actually a piece of handcrafted wood, carefully painted and attached to plasterboard to give the effect of stone.
One gets a sense of what it must be like to be a shrub, or watervole while watching time stand still.
Tickets please!
If you look carefully you can see how even the smallest of walls are styled as castle walls.
The all important chair shot.
Another castle at the top of the hill.
Everywhere there were reminders of when this was camelot and King Alfred used to live here. I couldn't help but wonder who this shield belonged to, how many battles it had thought, was it used by a left-handed or right-handed warrior, was the stem supposed to look like the body of a man, was it King Alfred or King Arthur who had built the Camelotland that we were stood in, and how sad it was that the shield was no longer in use.
Living in London I hadn't seen a Wimpy in years, so I was disappointed that this one appeared to be closed.
END OF THE LINE
I simply had to take a picture of this below.
We could hear the security was on our tail, so we hid again.
After an hour we had shaken him, and we approached our goal - why we had made the 12 hour round trip. First I had to deposit my bag in the bag rack. In King Alfred's day when the ride was operational serfs from the land would queue with their belongings to look at the rollercoaster. If they were deemed worthy enough the King would grant them permission to put their belongings in the bag rack, where on of the knights of the table would guard over them. As I put my own bag in I felt like I was closer to being one of them. Although obviously I can read and write, and would probably be a vassal or craftsman rather than serf or peasant. And I have an extensive collection of motown records which they wouldn't be able to afford, due to working in a leviathan-esque system. Give me machiavelli any day.
This epic has been sponsored by a John Smiths we found under the rollercoaster loading station.
Rock AND roll.
Where is MY birthday cake?
As I took the above picture we heard a noise and began to run. We made it to the front entrance, where i had time for one last photo of this epic. I'm still trying to come to terms with what we achieved that day. Not only did we escape countless security guards, PIRs, dogs, and the police, but I also managed to get the best set of photos the site has ever seen, and make back to London in time for a special preview screening of the new Terminator film at the Stratford Vue, which was actually a bit disappointing, and I would much rather have just stayed in Camelotland. I never did see the rumored ghost of Prince Albert, but I feel as though I have seen enough to have memories that will stay with me for a long time. A long, long time. A long, long, long, time. This had been the explore of a lifetime, and this write up can't do it justice - I'm tearing up now just thinking that I have to end it. While I would encourage each and all of you to go there, don't even bother putting a report up. You won't even get close to this. Camelot hath challengeth me, and hath removed its sword from thy stone.
I am the King of Camelot.
KJP
Arriving at the site while still dark enabled our two intrepid explorers to begin to infiltrate the facility under the cover of darkness, initially with only the perfume of nature for company as the distant rollercoaster looms out of the ground like the spine of some prehistoric beast caught in a moment of vertical suspense. Wait! What was that noise? Hit the floor. Waiting. Waiting. Footsteps. Heavy breathing. He moves on. He didn't see us. Not even close to the first fence or off of the pavement of Park Hall Road yet, and already security is hot. Too hot.
Leaving the road our two heroes merge into the hedgeline. After what seems like an eternity they find the first fenceline. The sun will come up soon. It is essential they act quickly. The first approaches the fence to determine just how they will circumvent this metallic hurdle. Barbed wire. The antithesis of each and every explorer. With the care and precision of a cat the first explorer makes it over, and lands safely, diving in a nearby bush to take cover. He texts his partner in crime that the coast is clear. For now.
As the second explorer makes her way over the fence things instantly go wrong. A strange noise comes from the burnt down shed inside the next perimeter wall. Stay calm. Don't panic. Look for cover. No torch. What's that?! PIR! Behind this corner! What was that noise? It must be the security guard! No! Dogs! Barking! Approaching! Sod the PIR! RUN! Over the second fence! Quick! Quick! Through here! Down! The security and dogs had been quickly lost, as they went silent. It did not stay silent for long.
Within minutes sirens can be heard racing past on the main road, their neon blue lights briefly lighting the hiding space of the two explorers inside the very heart of the once-great castle. No wonder the security and their dogs had only been heard for a split second. They had phoned the police immediately. The explorers covered themselves in a rotting carpet, discarded like a sweet wrapper thrown from the uncaring sausage fingers of James Corndon. Instantly the hundreds of creepy crawlies that had made the carpet their home fled the carpet. One explorer wants to scream at the sheer horror of the situation, but bravely holds her fear in. Now they wait, pledging not to emerge from beneath their rugged hiding place for six hours, until they could be sure that the police were off site, and that security had changed shift.
Six long torturous hours passed, with nothing to eat but one finger of a four finger kitkat and the remains of a ham and cheddar toastie from the Starbucks at Leicester Forest East Service Station, probably the best service station in the the UK. Maybe second behind Fleet. Definitely better than Hartshead Moor on the M62. There was little to drink either. The explorers hadn't heard a peep since their run in with the security, dogs, PIR and police hours early. Slowly, they removed the carpet, and after the initial burn of sunlight had faded from their bleary eyes, they took in the majesty of their surroundings.
I'm going to come out of third person now. Given the amount of reports on camelotland I figured it was an epic so we made the trip for it. I've had a look at a few reports by other people and quite frankly my photos are the best I've seen of it - the rest of you may as well give up on this place and stop posting inferior shit. This is the best coverage of the holy grail, the jewel in the crown, nay the pinnacle of UK exploring right now. Quite frankly, the site - and my photo - made me cumalot.
This is where we hid from security.
As I took the photo below I thought I saw security again, but it was just a tile falling off of turret. You can see the fine craft that went into building such an epic location once you get close to the castle - what appears to be stone is actually a piece of handcrafted wood, carefully painted and attached to plasterboard to give the effect of stone.
One gets a sense of what it must be like to be a shrub, or watervole while watching time stand still.
Tickets please!
If you look carefully you can see how even the smallest of walls are styled as castle walls.
The all important chair shot.
Another castle at the top of the hill.
Everywhere there were reminders of when this was camelot and King Alfred used to live here. I couldn't help but wonder who this shield belonged to, how many battles it had thought, was it used by a left-handed or right-handed warrior, was the stem supposed to look like the body of a man, was it King Alfred or King Arthur who had built the Camelotland that we were stood in, and how sad it was that the shield was no longer in use.
Living in London I hadn't seen a Wimpy in years, so I was disappointed that this one appeared to be closed.
END OF THE LINE
I simply had to take a picture of this below.
We could hear the security was on our tail, so we hid again.
After an hour we had shaken him, and we approached our goal - why we had made the 12 hour round trip. First I had to deposit my bag in the bag rack. In King Alfred's day when the ride was operational serfs from the land would queue with their belongings to look at the rollercoaster. If they were deemed worthy enough the King would grant them permission to put their belongings in the bag rack, where on of the knights of the table would guard over them. As I put my own bag in I felt like I was closer to being one of them. Although obviously I can read and write, and would probably be a vassal or craftsman rather than serf or peasant. And I have an extensive collection of motown records which they wouldn't be able to afford, due to working in a leviathan-esque system. Give me machiavelli any day.
This epic has been sponsored by a John Smiths we found under the rollercoaster loading station.
Rock AND roll.
Where is MY birthday cake?
As I took the above picture we heard a noise and began to run. We made it to the front entrance, where i had time for one last photo of this epic. I'm still trying to come to terms with what we achieved that day. Not only did we escape countless security guards, PIRs, dogs, and the police, but I also managed to get the best set of photos the site has ever seen, and make back to London in time for a special preview screening of the new Terminator film at the Stratford Vue, which was actually a bit disappointing, and I would much rather have just stayed in Camelotland. I never did see the rumored ghost of Prince Albert, but I feel as though I have seen enough to have memories that will stay with me for a long time. A long, long time. A long, long, long, time. This had been the explore of a lifetime, and this write up can't do it justice - I'm tearing up now just thinking that I have to end it. While I would encourage each and all of you to go there, don't even bother putting a report up. You won't even get close to this. Camelot hath challengeth me, and hath removed its sword from thy stone.
I am the King of Camelot.
KJP
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and not bother lmao
no point now mate , SJP EPICed it!
