A little trip I did with my new friend B. – just the latest in a series of experiences that have left me with an absolutely amazing impression of the generally friendly and accommodating French urban exploration community.
Near the outskirts of Paris lies an ugly, grey old pile of bricks, smack in the center of a rat’s warren of rail yards, industry, highway offramps, and other charming-but-generally-ignored pieces of urban necessity. This is the old Gare Frigorifique de Bercy, the long-abandoned refrigeration rail terminal serving the vast markets of Les Halles, before that area was re-purposed as massive underground mall and community space.
Parisian food logistics are a marvel of anthill-like complexity, and I never cease to wonder at the effort and evolution required to supply this huge city with a never ending stream of fresh delicacies every day. Now, armies of little white delivery trucks take foodstuffs from giant depots to corner markets, but once upon a time, steam trains chugged into the Gare de Lyon from the provinces, laden with goodies, to be deposited at the cavernous underground refrigeration depots nearby.
Above ground, the old depot buildings are now used as furniture storage, with several of the more prominent ones abandoned or burned. Nonetheless, we got a few decent shots the first time around, but didn’t figure out how to get to our true target – the rail tunnels. There is still a large shack with tracks on the surface part, connected partly to the operating SNCF freight and maintenance yards nearby, as well as to the Petite Ceinture railway (a fun trip in its own right) that is in danger of destruction due to encroachment by works to extend Paris’ nice new tramway system.
Most of the station is long-closed, although one tunnel is still in use by liquor wholesalers. We wandered in without much trouble, despite the supposed tight security (not a bad idea given its contents).
We even had a friendly chat with some guys unloading a truck, but utterly failed to gain access to the fun parts. We had an honest try at picking the locks, but no joy ensued.
Various claims included “there are freight trains immured down below”, “there’s huge security, you’ll be arrested and shot on sight”, “you will be eaten by a grue”, and all kinds of other crap – but I got the impression that this is one of those many Parisian sites that used to be piss-easy to visit but has since been forgotten, despite being smack out in the open for all to see. We really need to go have a look at this.
Finally, a bit of investigation turned up those most dreaded four words (at least for me) in the French urban exploration lexicon:
“Il faut du mato”.
So, off shopping I went, confusing Au Vieux Campeur‘s climbing section sales staff (“you want a ladder for what exactly?”) but making off with seemingly enough crap to get us down the Grand Canyon. We could now descend into the filth and gloom of the underground galleries, while trying not to set off the damn guard dog already having a barking fit next door.
No freight trains, alas, and many of the rails had been torn up, fixtures demolished, entrances bricked up with that nemesis of mine, the concrete “parpaing” that serves as a mute killjoy for so many interesting places to see. The only things that remained were some tracks and a rail turntable, along with the enormous underground galleries. And a surprisingly small amount of graffiti – the urban artists don’t seem to be hugely keen on having to do rope work to get at a clean canvas.
So, time to break out the flash color gels and have some fun. As always, it’s pleasant to go banging around the guts of the city with someone who also likes photography, as they’re much more likely to be patient while you fumble around with your gear in the murky gloom. Enjoy.
