So I wasn’t actually looking for the cave, nor did I intend to accomplish anything sf0 related that day. I was just walking around town, looking at things, trying to get something like a bearing on Marburg’s layout, wandering down streets I hadn’t been down before. And somewhere along the way, I chanced to look into the courtyard of an apartment building, and I noticed that one side of it was, unusually, a sheer rock cliff which had, even more unusually, a door carved into it at the bottom. I couldn’t tell where the door led, except that it was someplace dark. It was three in the afternoon, and the door looked like a black rectangle someone had painted on the wall. Hmmm, I thought, I’d sure like to go over there and take a closer look…but it’s on private property. And there’s a big fat red and white rope slung across the doorway at waist level. That’s a pretty clear Keep Out signal. I mean, I don’t want to trespass…

Oh. Wait. Or do I?

Sometimes tasks are thrust upon us, I guess.

I took a quick survey of the yard to make sure nobody was outside, then looked up at the windows, and out at the street. No one seemed to be watching, so I casually sauntered through the gate, trying to look as unsneaky as possible (just in case), then sprinted like a maniac across the yard and practically threw myself through the door. That “practically” is fortunate, because there turned out to be stairs. Not a lot of stairs—only six—but pretty steep ones. They led into a cave.



When I say “cave”, I do mean “cave”. It was clearly of natural origin, although some human accoutrements such as doors, stairs, and a fluorescent light had been added. The inside of the cave was about 20 degrees cooler than the outside temperature, which was quite pleasant, since it was an extremely hot day. It was relatively high-ceilinged, but there was only about as much floorspace as in a large bedroom. This was mostly taken up by a GINOURMOUS pile of debris: bricks, plaster, plastic, pieces of insulation foam, pieces of dried-up rubber cement, the broken bits of what might have been a toilet, and other assorted junk.



There was also this thoroughly sealed door on the far wall. Someone really didn’t want that thing opened.



This door was on the right wall. I tried to open it, but, unsurprisingly, it was locked. I then tried to pick the lock using various long, narrow bits and pieces from the pile, but failed due either to using highly sub-par lockpicking materials or to not actually knowing how to pick locks except from the descriptions I’ve read in mystery novels.



This very old-looking brush was part of the pile, too. The bristles appear to be made of animal hair, though I can’t tell what kind. It made me wonder how long people had been dumping things here. And for what purpose? And was this cave/basement/place used for anything else? Was it abandoned? I didn’t see any signs of extremely recent activity, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.



I also found these more recent-looking tools. They were all inside the black plastic case on the left when I found them, but here I have them spread out on the ground to give you a better look. The case was near the brush, close to the bottom of the heap.



It looks like the cave was fairly well lit in most of these pictures, but that’s because I was using my camera’s flash. I could see okay because of the light from the doorway, but it was very dim. Here’s a picture of the doorway taken without the flash so you can appreciate just how dim it was.

Another weird thing about the cave was its acoustics. Somehow, it seemed to amplify sound so that every noise from the courtyard, and even from the street outside the courtyard, seemed to be coming from just outside the cave entrance. At first I thought it was just my nerves and imagination at work, but I’m pretty sure it was a real effect. It was too consistent and noticeable. Several people walked through the courtyard or parked their cars nearby while I was exploring the cave. The first few times, I crouched down low as I could and froze, sure someone was about to start coming down the stairs, but soon I adjusted and was almost able to tune out background noises.

And then I realized that the truck I was hearing seemed to be getting louder…and closer…and Stop it, I told myself. It’s probably just another trick of the ear. The truck might be close, but it certainly won’t…

And then, of course, it backed right into the fucking cave. Or looked like it was about to, anyway.

I stifled a squeak, remembered that trucks don’t generally do stairs, and skootched into the furthest corner from the door. The truck loitered for what felt like an hour but was probably under a minute, its back wheels just scraping the doorframe, the guard rope brushing against the double doors in its back. It was a white truck, with back windows, like some kind of maintenance workers’ vehicle, possibly. I wondered whether I’d been mistaken, and some kind of construction work was still underway in the cave, and the workers were returning. A passenger-side door slammed. I did my best stunned possum impression in the corner. Finally, I heard footsteps receding, moving in the direction of the apartment building, and the truck switched into forward and drove slowly away.

Now, of course, I wish I’d had the chutzpah to take a picture of it.




As a parting gesture, I used some interesting objects in the heap to construct this junk castle/abstract art object. If anybody still goes down to the cave, they’ll know I was there. The castle is about two feet wide and looks much better in “person” than it does in the photos I took. (Really! Honest!)



When I was finished, I departed, using the same tactic I used to enter, only more or less in reverse. (Instead of scout-saunter-sprint, scout-sprint-saunter, then scout again as I left the gate.) I’d forgotten about the temperature difference, so it felt like dashing pell-mell into a sauna.





Goodbye, cave-basement of mysteries…