The only contemporary urban exploration reports of climbing the water tower were published in Andrew Tierney’s seminal The One website. He related two instances: the initial climb of 1999 and a second visit the same year to observe the eclipse. His description included details of various floors, tanks and chlorination equipment but photographs of the climb, and the internal structure of the water tower, were scarce.
For some reason, my initial forays into Cane Hill hardly featured the water tower. In retrospect, this was somewhat understandable. The groundbreaking Grand Tour featured many of the hospital’s iconic areas for the first time (such as the Chapel and Administration block) and there was little time for the water tower itself. With so much potential within the buildings, it was perhaps wasteful to simply view them from above.
That said, I can’t believe I wouldn’t have given the base of the tower a cursory look. During the Grand Tour and the Spooks And Structural Failure expeditions, we walked past the inviting door at the base of the tower, and yet I was quiet on the subject. I can only assume the door was firmly locked shut on both occasions and I neglected to mention it.
Such silence was short-lived as I photographed the ground floor of the water tower during the Syringes On Sunday tour. The initial intention was to cover new ground and further push the boundaries at Cane Hill, and the water tower would’ve been high on the list. I mentioned the door to the tower being completely removed, thus suggesting earlier access had been blocked. However, the stairs were ruined; either rotten or smashed out on the turn.
My visits to Cane Hill ceased and the water tower was rendered inaccessible by rude steel shuttering. As I visited other asylums, and climbed their water towers, I became ever more interested in the water tower at Cane Hill; not to climb it nor photograph the hospital from its parapet, but primarily to photograph and document its interiors. Tierney’s description of rooms, machines and dangerous crawls became ever more tempting, intriguing and frustrating.
Finally an opportunity arose for a return to Cane Hill. Not only could I finish off what I’d started, but I knew the water tower was open. It was now or never.
“Before building operations commenced, a well, 97 feet deep from the level of the road, and eight feet in diameter was sunk in the chalk. From this well is procured and unfailing supply of pure water; this has been fully proved during the present protracted drought, when most of the other wells in the neighbourhood have failed.”
“The water tower is 107 feet high, and the cistern is capable of holding 34,000 gallons of water. From the hydrants connected with the fire main, jets can be thrown over the highest parts of the building.”
So wrote Sir James Moody (Cane Hill’s first Medical Superintendent) who described Cane Hill in his first report to the Court of Quarter Sessions. Water was pumped from the well into the holding tanks in the water tower; there the hydrostatic pressure would provide sufficient to push water around the asylum buildings and throw water onto the highest buildings (in the event for fire). This design was also attractive as a temporary failure of water supply would be buffered by the water stored in the enormous tanks.
Thus was the requirement for a water tower, doubly necessary as Cane Hill was sited on a hill, and existing water mains (if any) would’ve been barely adequate. However Moody’s brief functional description didn’t extend to Howell’s basic architecture for the structure. With only minimal architectural statement (only matched by GT Hine later in his most austere moods) Howell’s water tower was a simple rectangular block, the five stages tapering towards the top, punctuated with two lancet windows on each side at three levels (four on the north-west side), with six lancet windows near the pinnacle. The only flair was limited to: the arching above the top six windows forming a ledge surmounted by the roof’s parapet; red brick courses linking the arches of the lower windows with stone mantles below the windows (both signature architectural motifs of Cane Hill); and the double arched main doorway.
Despite its Victorian brutality and early reputation as an eye-sore, the tower’s sheer force of character as a blunt obelisk punctuating the skyline was enough for it to be considered for local listing.
The siting of the engineering complex (of which the water tower was part) was intentionally away from the main corridor network, ensuring patients couldn’t easily simply find their way in. Howell put the main double arched doorway in the tower’s north-east side, adjacent to the service road at the back of the hospital, with a second smaller door in the opposite south-east wall which originally lead to the Smith’s Shop and Engineer’s Shop.
At some point in the hospital’s history, this doorway was blocked off, presumably when the Smith’s Shop and Engineer’s Shop were knocked into one and pushed into use as a Plumber's Store and workshop. I pictured the bricked up doorway in 2003 (see picture below).
During the demolition of the engineer’s courtyard in July 2008, the original doorway was reopened and this was our route in.
What follows is a step-by-step photographic record of our climb...
Ground Floor
The water tower was divided into two rooms (unfortunately Howell’s original plans are too blurred to decipher the function of these halves). As described by Tierney, the western half featured an office (or fume cupboard with large ventilation pipe) and switchgear; with eastern half including the staircase, piping disappearing into the floor and a “dumb waiter” for winching items up and down the tower.
The bottommost picture shows the eastern room in 2003 with the smashed (or rotten) stairway preventing access. A ladder had been leant against the wall, but like most ladders in Cane Hill, it was rotten.
Squibb Demolition had cleared the entire area and the base of the water tower was now swept clean. The original rotten stairs were also gone. However, they’d also erected extensive scaffolding and lashed up a new ladder. So we were off.
Ground Floor
Squibb’s first level of scaffolding only reached half the height of the original room (to where the original staircase first turned). So there was a second temporary ladder to take.
Ground Floor
This ladder followed the original course of the rickety staircase we dare not take back in 2003. (On the right can be seen the wood marks where the original ladder’s steps used to be).
By now we'd reached the mezzanine floor and the original staircase would’ve had a small platform at the end of this rise. From here, one entrance led on the mezzanine floor with the staircase turning again and continuing to the first.
Mezzanine Floor
Standing on the final parts of Squibb’s ladder, the original staircase took over, now appearing quite solid and sturdy. The mezzanine floor was also accessed here, being roughly partitioned off from the stairway.
Mezzanine Floor
Moving into this partitioned space on the first floor revealed more rough-and-ready partitioning. This was presumably to separate the open shaft via which equipment and supplies were hoisted up and down the water tower.
I believe this floor was a later addition to the water tower. Its rough construction, lack of boxing of the dumb waiter shaft and its odd access via a gap in the stairs suggest it was built later as a store room. Note also the lack of access to the western side of the water tower – which I believe was open from the ground floor all the way to the original first floor (although if you look closely at the picture, there's a boarded-up area on the wall.)
First Floor
After the cramped conditions of Squibb’s scaffolding, the ladder and the mezzanine floor, the first floor felt like a huge open area. It was also light as we’d reached the height of the next set of lancet windows.
It duplicated the ground floor. The two halves of the tower were linked by a thick arched doorway with a heavy wooden door.
First Floor
The western half of the tower featured nothing more than a couple of shelves. Despite odd pieces of furniture like this, the water tower was largely empty at this level.
First Floor
The staircase continued upwards into the unchartered upper levels of the water tower. This staircase, with its three turns, duplicated the smashed and partially removed one originally installed on the ground floor.
The banister of the staircase we climbed up can just be seen to the right of the shot.
First Floor
This final shot of the eastern side of the first floor room shows the boxed shaft for the lifting of equipment and supplies.
There were also several holes in the floor which we were careful to avoid. Extra wooden boards had been put down as a walkway, suggesting the floor had become dilapidated during the working life of the hospital. Perhaps this level had long been abandoned?
Second Floor
Upon reaching the second floor, I turned to take a shot of the staircase we’d just climbed. Like the first floor, the second floor was lit with another set of lancet windows.
Second Floor
The roof of the second floor was much lower, now comprised of thick, steel joists supporting a concrete floor. Whatever was above us now required much more substantial flooring and support, suggesting we’d now started to reach the level of the first water tanks.
There was a large door fitted to the dumb waiter suggesting larger objects were hauled up to this level of the tower.
The only other feature was a small doorway which led to the western side of the water tower.
Second Floor
A large water tank filled the western half of the second level, supported on huge concrete joists. The water purification tanks were still above us, so I wonder if this cistern was used for the drinking water supply.
(If it was, then the drinking water was at a lower pressure than the other water mains supplied around the hospital).
Second Floor
The easy wooden steps had also gone, now replaced by vertical, metal, iron-rung ladders. Everyone relaxed somewhat as we were now moving to steel and concrete from wood.
A final reminder of this could be found at our feet; there was a hole at the base of these steps. One false move and you’d be through the floor.
Third Floor
We were now on the third floor, cramped and dark (as this level didn’t have much height and was between windows).
The concrete floor was several inches thick, but we could still see the hole in the wooden floor at the base of the ladder below us.
Third Floor
Two large water tanks occupied the eastern side of the tower. Above both was a single shaft with worm gears on each driving stirrers in each of the tanks. This drive appeared to be driven by a motor at the far end of the room, linked by a belt. There was also a small sink at the end of the room.
The western side of the tower was inaccessible and I assume the water tanks we spotted the level below continued through this one.
Third Floor
Other tanks were mounted on the south east wall of the tower, where the next ladder was fixed to climb to the next level.
It’s believed the tanks with the stirrers were chlorination tanks for purifying drinking water. After water was taken from the main tank still above us, was water was chlorinated in the tanks with the stirrers, and then stored in the smaller tanks in the western side of the tower?
Third Floor
Climbing up to the next floor revealed another sturdy concrete floor, again supported by metal joists.
Fourth Floor
We were back in the light again as the next floor coincided with the thin lancet windows which ringed the structure.
The eastern room featured the most extensive piping network yet seen, with an array of pipes and stop-cocks clustered on south-eastern wall. There were two small concrete tanks lining the north eastern wall which looked long disused.
Elevated concrete steps lead into the western room.
Fourth Floor
These tanks looked like they’d been disused far longer than the hospital’s 1991 closure date.
One of Cane Hill’s legendary rotten ladders had been carelessly left across one of the tanks. Thankfully, we wouldn’t need it.
Fourth Floor
The western room (now accessible again via a central door) was a mirror image with further piping and two other concrete tanks.
I believe there was a way down to the tanks below via the hole in the floor which has a metal railing around in.
Fourth Floor
Moving further into this room, we found another ladder leading up onto the fifth floor.
However, this route wasn’t taken and we returned to the eastern side of the water tower.
Fourth Floor
Back in the eastern side was the hole in the floor we climbed through, and the ladder which we’d take to the fifth floor.
The raised concrete stairs in the centre of the room was a mystery. Why build them? I can only conclude they allowed an engineer to view the contents of both sets of concrete tanks – which was somewhat over elaborate.
Fourth Floor
Climbing the steps revealed the base of the fifth floor, again designed to support heavy weights with its iron girders and concrete base.
Fifth Floor
We were plunged into darkness again as the next floor was between windows. In the gloom, a sheer concrete wall made this already claustrophobic place even smaller.
Pipes led into the concrete walls and a ladder lay discarded at the end. We climbed the last of the ladder and surveyed the fifth floor.
Fifth Floor
We weren’t going to take the ladder at the end of the room which was simply propped against the concrete tank. Our ladder was directly above us, squeezing between a rectangular pipe and leading to the top of the concrete tank.
Further up could be seen some huge black iron joists, the largest we’d seen so far.
Fifth Floor
Initially this ladder seemed confusing. It appeared to only lead to the top of this new concrete tank, but had to be the correct way up as a sheer vertical metal runged ladder could be seen beyond it, attached to the south-west wall.
We climbed up.
Fifth Floor
As we climbed higher, our concrete wall was revealed to be a set of several smaller rusted, discoloured, empty and dirty water tanks.
The overhead girders were immense and closely spaced. These were supporting a considerable weight.
Fifth Floor
By now our route was clear and becoming ever more interesting.
We had to walk across the crumbling, rusting remains of the top of the water tank to take some brick built steps to the base of the vertical iron ladder. And the brick built steps were no wider than two bricks. Additionally this was all made more difficult by the huge girder just above us.
The concept of a floor, or level, was also becoming vague. Especially when dealing with two bricks in the side of a wall.
Fifth Floor
Clambering gingerly along the top of the tank, we were able to size up the brick steps and the vertical ladder. Interesting the vertical ladder appeared to stop short of the top of the water tower. Did it actually lead anywhere or was it just a red herring?
But from this angle, we could see what was perched on these enormous girdlers. We’d reached Cane Hill’s main water tank, the enormous 34,000 gallon beast which topped the water tower.
We were almost there.
Fifth Floor
I looked down. This was vital. You had to walk close to the edge of the tank, keeping close to the metal struts making up its frame. The flimsy cover was too fragile and corroded to offer any support.
The drop into this empty water tank wasn’t life threatening but it was full of nasty, rusted components. This corroded tube was particularly interesting, but I didn’t pause too long here – I wanted to get to the relative safety of the brick steps.
Sixth Floor
Cane Hill’s main water tank was at the pinnacle of the structure, the final hazard to overcome before the roof. It was absolutely enormous, towering above and around us. It almost filled the entire internal area of the water tower – I wondered if the tank’s dimensions had dictated the dimensions of the water tower itself.
There was a tiny gap between the tank and the water tower’s external walls and this formed a walkway around the entire tank. The space was well lit as we’d reached the height of the six lancet windows; which meant there were twenty four windows this level rather than eight at the lower levels. I suspect this was to allow engineers to inspect the tank easily.
Sixth Floor
At this height, I had a good view of the hospital. I also had a good view of demolition by Squibb. I should’ve been looking over the engineering courtyard and laundry towards the female wards. Whilst the wards were still there, the others had gone, transformed into jet washed uniform piles of reclaimed brick.
Sixth Floor
It was time to climb the ladder to nowhere. At the top it would be possible to see over the water tanks and perhaps work out a route to the roof. But at this point, it was looking like a dead end.
Sixth Floor
At the top of this ladder, it became clear. We had to swing out, and then stand on the corner of the top of the main water tank before continuing our journey up via a new vertical ladder.
The interior of the main water tank could just be seen. Full of tie-rods and rusted metal, you didn’t want to fall into it. In the days of the working hospital, it would’ve been less dangerous, filled with cold water. But now, it was not so friendly.
Sixth Floor
This shot was taken when we climbed back down, which explains why Laura’s facing the other way. I included it to show what a tight squeeze it was getting up here; there’s not much room between the side of the water tower and the enclosed water tank.
She’s just navigated the vertical ladder, the four vertical brick steps, and is now about to duck under the joists under the main water tank, and edge across the corroded top of the small concrete tanks below.
Sixth Floor
Most of the top of the water tank was covered with flimsy asbestos corrugated sheeting. Above which were the joists of the roof itself.
The first shot shows the view through the ladder, whilst the second shows the ladder in context.
The final short segment of ladder simply led from the top of the water tank out onto the roof itself. We’d made it.
I’d long admired this twisted, strange Yagi aerial and now I was within touching distance. Despite it being a calm day (albeit overcast), the wind was whistling and blowing strongly – we were over 100 feet above Cane Hill.
The roof had a slight apex, the felt covering made watertight at the edges by lead strips. The covering was all still intact despite years of neglect, rain and howling gales over this exposed structure.
It was great to be finally up here. Everyone made for a parapet to admire the views. Squibb's demolition progress could be viewed with unhappiness; but you could also see the water towers of Netherne and Queen Elizabeths and the tall buildings of Central London.
Even on this bleak August day, the view was wonderful.
I thought about the other water towers I’d climbed. The final part, the push towards the roof, was always the most laborious, usually involving actually getting on the main water tank itself. It was almost as if the access to the roof was an afterthought.
Which it almost certainly was. The most important thing was the water tank itself. Providing access to that was probably enough for most architects; as typified by the designs of the water towers at Severalls and West Park. The water tank also dictated the dimensions of the water tower, so an extensive, elaborate stairway past the tank would’ve simply pushed out the tower’s dimensions and increased its cost.
However, inspection would be required of the tank and its covering to ensure there were no leaks nor that nothing nasty had fallen in. Hence the requirement to be able to get to the top of the tank, but it was by the tightest squeeze possible.
Howell’s trick of placing a ladder over the tank itself for access to the roof was also used by Hine (as seen at both Rauceby and St. Mary’s).
The other commonality between water towers was the sheer amount of empty space in them. All the lower levels are typically empty, sometimes used as store rooms (with appalling access) or simply left as empty spaces with flimsy ladders hugging the sides of the wall. The reason was simple; you had to get your main water tank one hundred feet up in the area to provide enough pressure. Anything below that would simply be at a lower pressure and of less use.
Therefore Cane Hill’s main water tank is right at the top of the tower, in the area occupied by the twenty four lancet windows. And I don’t believe this was for totally decorative reasons; illumination of the tank for inspection was probably a necessity and so Howell provided the extra lancet windows.
Original descriptions of the water tower mentioned five levels whilst I listed six. I believe this difference was due to me counting the joists on which the main water tank sits as an extra level.
The future of Cane Hill’s water tower is open to question. It’s afforded some protection by merit of being a local landmark, but I don’t believe it shares the local listing status which protects the Administration Block and Chapel from Squibb’s nibblers and bulldozers.
However, English Partnerships have made no firm decision regarding its future, still weighing up the various pros and cons of their four alternative master plans for the site. Given their gung-ho desire to flatten everything they can, I fear for the structure’s future. Cleaned up and converted, the water tower would be a wonderful landmark, and an interesting feature within the redeveloped post-Cane Hill landscape.
Let’s hope imagination and historical appreciation wins over profit margins and number of units per acre.
There are more pictures, diagrams and maps of this climb included on my website.
All the best,
Simon
www.simoncornwell.com/urbex
PS For those who are interested, here's the extent of the demolition at Cane Hill:
For some reason, my initial forays into Cane Hill hardly featured the water tower. In retrospect, this was somewhat understandable. The groundbreaking Grand Tour featured many of the hospital’s iconic areas for the first time (such as the Chapel and Administration block) and there was little time for the water tower itself. With so much potential within the buildings, it was perhaps wasteful to simply view them from above.
That said, I can’t believe I wouldn’t have given the base of the tower a cursory look. During the Grand Tour and the Spooks And Structural Failure expeditions, we walked past the inviting door at the base of the tower, and yet I was quiet on the subject. I can only assume the door was firmly locked shut on both occasions and I neglected to mention it.
Such silence was short-lived as I photographed the ground floor of the water tower during the Syringes On Sunday tour. The initial intention was to cover new ground and further push the boundaries at Cane Hill, and the water tower would’ve been high on the list. I mentioned the door to the tower being completely removed, thus suggesting earlier access had been blocked. However, the stairs were ruined; either rotten or smashed out on the turn.
My visits to Cane Hill ceased and the water tower was rendered inaccessible by rude steel shuttering. As I visited other asylums, and climbed their water towers, I became ever more interested in the water tower at Cane Hill; not to climb it nor photograph the hospital from its parapet, but primarily to photograph and document its interiors. Tierney’s description of rooms, machines and dangerous crawls became ever more tempting, intriguing and frustrating.
Finally an opportunity arose for a return to Cane Hill. Not only could I finish off what I’d started, but I knew the water tower was open. It was now or never.
“Before building operations commenced, a well, 97 feet deep from the level of the road, and eight feet in diameter was sunk in the chalk. From this well is procured and unfailing supply of pure water; this has been fully proved during the present protracted drought, when most of the other wells in the neighbourhood have failed.”
“The water tower is 107 feet high, and the cistern is capable of holding 34,000 gallons of water. From the hydrants connected with the fire main, jets can be thrown over the highest parts of the building.”
So wrote Sir James Moody (Cane Hill’s first Medical Superintendent) who described Cane Hill in his first report to the Court of Quarter Sessions. Water was pumped from the well into the holding tanks in the water tower; there the hydrostatic pressure would provide sufficient to push water around the asylum buildings and throw water onto the highest buildings (in the event for fire). This design was also attractive as a temporary failure of water supply would be buffered by the water stored in the enormous tanks.
Thus was the requirement for a water tower, doubly necessary as Cane Hill was sited on a hill, and existing water mains (if any) would’ve been barely adequate. However Moody’s brief functional description didn’t extend to Howell’s basic architecture for the structure. With only minimal architectural statement (only matched by GT Hine later in his most austere moods) Howell’s water tower was a simple rectangular block, the five stages tapering towards the top, punctuated with two lancet windows on each side at three levels (four on the north-west side), with six lancet windows near the pinnacle. The only flair was limited to: the arching above the top six windows forming a ledge surmounted by the roof’s parapet; red brick courses linking the arches of the lower windows with stone mantles below the windows (both signature architectural motifs of Cane Hill); and the double arched main doorway.
Despite its Victorian brutality and early reputation as an eye-sore, the tower’s sheer force of character as a blunt obelisk punctuating the skyline was enough for it to be considered for local listing.
The siting of the engineering complex (of which the water tower was part) was intentionally away from the main corridor network, ensuring patients couldn’t easily simply find their way in. Howell put the main double arched doorway in the tower’s north-east side, adjacent to the service road at the back of the hospital, with a second smaller door in the opposite south-east wall which originally lead to the Smith’s Shop and Engineer’s Shop.
At some point in the hospital’s history, this doorway was blocked off, presumably when the Smith’s Shop and Engineer’s Shop were knocked into one and pushed into use as a Plumber's Store and workshop. I pictured the bricked up doorway in 2003 (see picture below).
During the demolition of the engineer’s courtyard in July 2008, the original doorway was reopened and this was our route in.
What follows is a step-by-step photographic record of our climb...
Ground Floor
The water tower was divided into two rooms (unfortunately Howell’s original plans are too blurred to decipher the function of these halves). As described by Tierney, the western half featured an office (or fume cupboard with large ventilation pipe) and switchgear; with eastern half including the staircase, piping disappearing into the floor and a “dumb waiter” for winching items up and down the tower.
The bottommost picture shows the eastern room in 2003 with the smashed (or rotten) stairway preventing access. A ladder had been leant against the wall, but like most ladders in Cane Hill, it was rotten.
Squibb Demolition had cleared the entire area and the base of the water tower was now swept clean. The original rotten stairs were also gone. However, they’d also erected extensive scaffolding and lashed up a new ladder. So we were off.
Ground Floor
Squibb’s first level of scaffolding only reached half the height of the original room (to where the original staircase first turned). So there was a second temporary ladder to take.
Ground Floor
This ladder followed the original course of the rickety staircase we dare not take back in 2003. (On the right can be seen the wood marks where the original ladder’s steps used to be).
By now we'd reached the mezzanine floor and the original staircase would’ve had a small platform at the end of this rise. From here, one entrance led on the mezzanine floor with the staircase turning again and continuing to the first.
Mezzanine Floor
Standing on the final parts of Squibb’s ladder, the original staircase took over, now appearing quite solid and sturdy. The mezzanine floor was also accessed here, being roughly partitioned off from the stairway.
Mezzanine Floor
Moving into this partitioned space on the first floor revealed more rough-and-ready partitioning. This was presumably to separate the open shaft via which equipment and supplies were hoisted up and down the water tower.
I believe this floor was a later addition to the water tower. Its rough construction, lack of boxing of the dumb waiter shaft and its odd access via a gap in the stairs suggest it was built later as a store room. Note also the lack of access to the western side of the water tower – which I believe was open from the ground floor all the way to the original first floor (although if you look closely at the picture, there's a boarded-up area on the wall.)
First Floor
After the cramped conditions of Squibb’s scaffolding, the ladder and the mezzanine floor, the first floor felt like a huge open area. It was also light as we’d reached the height of the next set of lancet windows.
It duplicated the ground floor. The two halves of the tower were linked by a thick arched doorway with a heavy wooden door.
First Floor
The western half of the tower featured nothing more than a couple of shelves. Despite odd pieces of furniture like this, the water tower was largely empty at this level.
First Floor
The staircase continued upwards into the unchartered upper levels of the water tower. This staircase, with its three turns, duplicated the smashed and partially removed one originally installed on the ground floor.
The banister of the staircase we climbed up can just be seen to the right of the shot.
First Floor
This final shot of the eastern side of the first floor room shows the boxed shaft for the lifting of equipment and supplies.
There were also several holes in the floor which we were careful to avoid. Extra wooden boards had been put down as a walkway, suggesting the floor had become dilapidated during the working life of the hospital. Perhaps this level had long been abandoned?
Second Floor
Upon reaching the second floor, I turned to take a shot of the staircase we’d just climbed. Like the first floor, the second floor was lit with another set of lancet windows.
Second Floor
The roof of the second floor was much lower, now comprised of thick, steel joists supporting a concrete floor. Whatever was above us now required much more substantial flooring and support, suggesting we’d now started to reach the level of the first water tanks.
There was a large door fitted to the dumb waiter suggesting larger objects were hauled up to this level of the tower.
The only other feature was a small doorway which led to the western side of the water tower.
Second Floor
A large water tank filled the western half of the second level, supported on huge concrete joists. The water purification tanks were still above us, so I wonder if this cistern was used for the drinking water supply.
(If it was, then the drinking water was at a lower pressure than the other water mains supplied around the hospital).
Second Floor
The easy wooden steps had also gone, now replaced by vertical, metal, iron-rung ladders. Everyone relaxed somewhat as we were now moving to steel and concrete from wood.
A final reminder of this could be found at our feet; there was a hole at the base of these steps. One false move and you’d be through the floor.
Third Floor
We were now on the third floor, cramped and dark (as this level didn’t have much height and was between windows).
The concrete floor was several inches thick, but we could still see the hole in the wooden floor at the base of the ladder below us.
Third Floor
Two large water tanks occupied the eastern side of the tower. Above both was a single shaft with worm gears on each driving stirrers in each of the tanks. This drive appeared to be driven by a motor at the far end of the room, linked by a belt. There was also a small sink at the end of the room.
The western side of the tower was inaccessible and I assume the water tanks we spotted the level below continued through this one.
Third Floor
Other tanks were mounted on the south east wall of the tower, where the next ladder was fixed to climb to the next level.
It’s believed the tanks with the stirrers were chlorination tanks for purifying drinking water. After water was taken from the main tank still above us, was water was chlorinated in the tanks with the stirrers, and then stored in the smaller tanks in the western side of the tower?
Third Floor
Climbing up to the next floor revealed another sturdy concrete floor, again supported by metal joists.
Fourth Floor
We were back in the light again as the next floor coincided with the thin lancet windows which ringed the structure.
The eastern room featured the most extensive piping network yet seen, with an array of pipes and stop-cocks clustered on south-eastern wall. There were two small concrete tanks lining the north eastern wall which looked long disused.
Elevated concrete steps lead into the western room.
Fourth Floor
These tanks looked like they’d been disused far longer than the hospital’s 1991 closure date.
One of Cane Hill’s legendary rotten ladders had been carelessly left across one of the tanks. Thankfully, we wouldn’t need it.
Fourth Floor
The western room (now accessible again via a central door) was a mirror image with further piping and two other concrete tanks.
I believe there was a way down to the tanks below via the hole in the floor which has a metal railing around in.
Fourth Floor
Moving further into this room, we found another ladder leading up onto the fifth floor.
However, this route wasn’t taken and we returned to the eastern side of the water tower.
Fourth Floor
Back in the eastern side was the hole in the floor we climbed through, and the ladder which we’d take to the fifth floor.
The raised concrete stairs in the centre of the room was a mystery. Why build them? I can only conclude they allowed an engineer to view the contents of both sets of concrete tanks – which was somewhat over elaborate.
Fourth Floor
Climbing the steps revealed the base of the fifth floor, again designed to support heavy weights with its iron girders and concrete base.
Fifth Floor
We were plunged into darkness again as the next floor was between windows. In the gloom, a sheer concrete wall made this already claustrophobic place even smaller.
Pipes led into the concrete walls and a ladder lay discarded at the end. We climbed the last of the ladder and surveyed the fifth floor.
Fifth Floor
We weren’t going to take the ladder at the end of the room which was simply propped against the concrete tank. Our ladder was directly above us, squeezing between a rectangular pipe and leading to the top of the concrete tank.
Further up could be seen some huge black iron joists, the largest we’d seen so far.
Fifth Floor
Initially this ladder seemed confusing. It appeared to only lead to the top of this new concrete tank, but had to be the correct way up as a sheer vertical metal runged ladder could be seen beyond it, attached to the south-west wall.
We climbed up.
Fifth Floor
As we climbed higher, our concrete wall was revealed to be a set of several smaller rusted, discoloured, empty and dirty water tanks.
The overhead girders were immense and closely spaced. These were supporting a considerable weight.
Fifth Floor
By now our route was clear and becoming ever more interesting.
We had to walk across the crumbling, rusting remains of the top of the water tank to take some brick built steps to the base of the vertical iron ladder. And the brick built steps were no wider than two bricks. Additionally this was all made more difficult by the huge girder just above us.
The concept of a floor, or level, was also becoming vague. Especially when dealing with two bricks in the side of a wall.
Fifth Floor
Clambering gingerly along the top of the tank, we were able to size up the brick steps and the vertical ladder. Interesting the vertical ladder appeared to stop short of the top of the water tower. Did it actually lead anywhere or was it just a red herring?
But from this angle, we could see what was perched on these enormous girdlers. We’d reached Cane Hill’s main water tank, the enormous 34,000 gallon beast which topped the water tower.
We were almost there.
Fifth Floor
I looked down. This was vital. You had to walk close to the edge of the tank, keeping close to the metal struts making up its frame. The flimsy cover was too fragile and corroded to offer any support.
The drop into this empty water tank wasn’t life threatening but it was full of nasty, rusted components. This corroded tube was particularly interesting, but I didn’t pause too long here – I wanted to get to the relative safety of the brick steps.
Sixth Floor
Cane Hill’s main water tank was at the pinnacle of the structure, the final hazard to overcome before the roof. It was absolutely enormous, towering above and around us. It almost filled the entire internal area of the water tower – I wondered if the tank’s dimensions had dictated the dimensions of the water tower itself.
There was a tiny gap between the tank and the water tower’s external walls and this formed a walkway around the entire tank. The space was well lit as we’d reached the height of the six lancet windows; which meant there were twenty four windows this level rather than eight at the lower levels. I suspect this was to allow engineers to inspect the tank easily.
Sixth Floor
At this height, I had a good view of the hospital. I also had a good view of demolition by Squibb. I should’ve been looking over the engineering courtyard and laundry towards the female wards. Whilst the wards were still there, the others had gone, transformed into jet washed uniform piles of reclaimed brick.
Sixth Floor
It was time to climb the ladder to nowhere. At the top it would be possible to see over the water tanks and perhaps work out a route to the roof. But at this point, it was looking like a dead end.
Sixth Floor
At the top of this ladder, it became clear. We had to swing out, and then stand on the corner of the top of the main water tank before continuing our journey up via a new vertical ladder.
The interior of the main water tank could just be seen. Full of tie-rods and rusted metal, you didn’t want to fall into it. In the days of the working hospital, it would’ve been less dangerous, filled with cold water. But now, it was not so friendly.
Sixth Floor
This shot was taken when we climbed back down, which explains why Laura’s facing the other way. I included it to show what a tight squeeze it was getting up here; there’s not much room between the side of the water tower and the enclosed water tank.
She’s just navigated the vertical ladder, the four vertical brick steps, and is now about to duck under the joists under the main water tank, and edge across the corroded top of the small concrete tanks below.
Sixth Floor
Most of the top of the water tank was covered with flimsy asbestos corrugated sheeting. Above which were the joists of the roof itself.
The first shot shows the view through the ladder, whilst the second shows the ladder in context.
The final short segment of ladder simply led from the top of the water tank out onto the roof itself. We’d made it.
I’d long admired this twisted, strange Yagi aerial and now I was within touching distance. Despite it being a calm day (albeit overcast), the wind was whistling and blowing strongly – we were over 100 feet above Cane Hill.
The roof had a slight apex, the felt covering made watertight at the edges by lead strips. The covering was all still intact despite years of neglect, rain and howling gales over this exposed structure.
It was great to be finally up here. Everyone made for a parapet to admire the views. Squibb's demolition progress could be viewed with unhappiness; but you could also see the water towers of Netherne and Queen Elizabeths and the tall buildings of Central London.
Even on this bleak August day, the view was wonderful.
I thought about the other water towers I’d climbed. The final part, the push towards the roof, was always the most laborious, usually involving actually getting on the main water tank itself. It was almost as if the access to the roof was an afterthought.
Which it almost certainly was. The most important thing was the water tank itself. Providing access to that was probably enough for most architects; as typified by the designs of the water towers at Severalls and West Park. The water tank also dictated the dimensions of the water tower, so an extensive, elaborate stairway past the tank would’ve simply pushed out the tower’s dimensions and increased its cost.
However, inspection would be required of the tank and its covering to ensure there were no leaks nor that nothing nasty had fallen in. Hence the requirement to be able to get to the top of the tank, but it was by the tightest squeeze possible.
Howell’s trick of placing a ladder over the tank itself for access to the roof was also used by Hine (as seen at both Rauceby and St. Mary’s).
The other commonality between water towers was the sheer amount of empty space in them. All the lower levels are typically empty, sometimes used as store rooms (with appalling access) or simply left as empty spaces with flimsy ladders hugging the sides of the wall. The reason was simple; you had to get your main water tank one hundred feet up in the area to provide enough pressure. Anything below that would simply be at a lower pressure and of less use.
Therefore Cane Hill’s main water tank is right at the top of the tower, in the area occupied by the twenty four lancet windows. And I don’t believe this was for totally decorative reasons; illumination of the tank for inspection was probably a necessity and so Howell provided the extra lancet windows.
Original descriptions of the water tower mentioned five levels whilst I listed six. I believe this difference was due to me counting the joists on which the main water tank sits as an extra level.
The future of Cane Hill’s water tower is open to question. It’s afforded some protection by merit of being a local landmark, but I don’t believe it shares the local listing status which protects the Administration Block and Chapel from Squibb’s nibblers and bulldozers.
However, English Partnerships have made no firm decision regarding its future, still weighing up the various pros and cons of their four alternative master plans for the site. Given their gung-ho desire to flatten everything they can, I fear for the structure’s future. Cleaned up and converted, the water tower would be a wonderful landmark, and an interesting feature within the redeveloped post-Cane Hill landscape.
Let’s hope imagination and historical appreciation wins over profit margins and number of units per acre.
There are more pictures, diagrams and maps of this climb included on my website.
All the best,
Simon
www.simoncornwell.com/urbex
PS For those who are interested, here's the extent of the demolition at Cane Hill:
