Re: The Indepenent 01:10:08
Continued...
"There's a lot of resentment against 28 Days Later from within the urban exploration community," she says. "Some see us as overly academic and technical, and I admit that we place a great emphasis on things like ropes and climbing, as well as appreciating the history of these places. There are other groups who just do 'mass invasions', where they storm a place and throw a party. That's their choice, but it probably helps to give urban exploration a bad name."
In recent months, a number of local newspapers have begun monitoring online exploring forums and have run stories on which buildings on their patches are being targeted. The explorers themselves are often heavily criticised, portrayed as dangerous youths and hooligans, something which Rookinella believes misrepresents the exploring community.
"I'm 22 years old, and I'm probably one of the youngest people I know doing this," she says, scrambling through another window that she says will take us into West Park's Great Hall. "The average explorer is normally in their late twenties or early thirties and holds down a perfectly respectable job. The motto of the community, and I admit it sounds a little corny, is 'Leave only footprints, take only pictures'. But generally, I try to avoid the whole ethics debate."
The roof of the Great Hall has gone and the walls are caked in black soot, the result of arsonists who nearly succeeded in burning the whole complex down shortly after it was closed. The hall, which once housed an elaborately painted stage, was the living heart of the asylum.
"Id love to have seen it before it burned down," Rookinella says. Asked whether she thought urban explorers were responsible, she looks offended. "No way," she says. "We would never destroy the buildings we explore. It was probably bored kids. Sure, there are times when you might need to break into a place and I'm not going to deny that people don't take the odd keepsake, but we have a huge amount of respect for these places."
The final must-see stop on our tour, I'm told, is the fully equipped padded cell that lies close to the children's ward, which is itself a rather eerie place thanks to the mottled, crumbling pictures of Disney characters that adorn the walls.
But at this point we realise we have outstayed our welcome. The asylum, which for the past two hours echoed to nothing more than the sounds of our voices, now has another presence – a rather angry-looking security guard brandishing a large wooden stick. Our attempts to conceal ourselves in an uncomfortable thicket of overgrown brambles prove fruitless and we are soon discovered.
The guard, dressed in a high-vis jacket and looking more than a little put out, is clearly used to dealing with explorers but knows there is little he can do other than kick us out. Explorers are well versed in how the law works and after a sustained but polite lesson from Rookinella on the ins and outs of trespassing, he decides not to bother the police and settles for ejecting us.
Walking back to the car, Rookinella can barely conceal her excitement at having successfully talked her way out of another scrape. "I won't deny that the risk element isn't a big part of it," she says. "There's nothing like a good security chase and successful escape, it's such a buzz."
Turning her key in the ignition, the satnav lights up – revealing three more "sights of interest" in the vicinity. "Where to now?" she asks. "There's another great asylum just up the road. And it has a mortuary."