Victorian reservoir

Developers are building fourteen new homes in the Clayton le Woods area of Preston. To do so, they must demolish a subterranean reservoir that has been there for over 100 years. They opened the site up to the public for two weeks, so people could get a last look at a chunk of the area's history. The reservoir, the largest brick vault type still in existence, was built in 1883 and held 300,000 gallons. It supplied the area with fresh water until it was decommissioned in 1992. When the property went up for sale earlier this year, the local historical society unsuccessfully tried to raise the £400,000 needed to rescue the reservoir. Efforts to have the structure listed as an historical site also failed. Authorities felt that the reservoir was simply not interesting enough. 

My sister-in-law, Janet, and I toured the reservoir during its last week of life. 

The entrance was a bit off-putting. The scaffolding steps were wobbly. You can just make out the arch of bricks through the dirt.

This isn't a museum, so there was no informational signage posted about. I'm going to assume this was perhaps the inflow pipe. I also have no idea why the roof is red and the walls black. Were the bricks in the wall once red and they turned black from being under the water? Were they black to start with? No clue and, despite my best efforts, I can't find out the answers.

No clue what purpose this served. The lack of any filtering makes me think this had to do with water coming in, as well.

It was a rainy Monday afternoon, but there was still a fair number of people looking around. On the first Saturday it was open, 700 people came to visit the reservoir. On that Sunday, they counted over 2,000 visitors.

The vault work was impressive. Everything was so precise. And what you see has been pretty much untouched since 1883. I'd like to see something built today last so long, and be done with such obvious pride in workmanship.

This pipe has a filter on it, so I'm thinking it was an outflow pipe.

Another filtered pipe.

The interior was very, very dark. In order for you to actually see anything in the photos where my crap camera didn't ignite its flash (and there were many until I figured out a way to force it), I lightened them in a photo editor. This gives the photos an almost haunted quality that I rather like. It's rather fitting for a site facing its imminent death.

It's really beautiful in its own way. 

As you can see, there was still water on the floor. I didn't think to wear my rain boots, either. Luckily, my hiking boots came out with just a bit of mud in the sides. And that came off easily. Whew.

The brick work is so tight. Obviously, it'd have to be but you still have to applaude Victorian craftsmanship. 

This has nothing to do with the reservoir. We explored the site for about 20 minutes or so and then walked to a nearby pub for a cup of coffee whilst we waited for our ride back (Steve's Dad dropped us off). I spotted this salt hopper at the top of the road that leads to the reservoir. It intrigued me, so it got its photo taken. It turns out this is a very old salt hopper. The current ones have plastic lids. They're put in areas where the roads aren't salted by the council. Folks can then just go get the salt for themselves and sprinkle it on their driveways and in front of their houses to keep them from icing.

I'm glad Janet and I took the time to visit the reservoir. I am saddened to see it go, but the Victorians would understand. They tore down loads of historic buildings in the name of progress.