Crane Climb ‘ RIDING THE STACK’
Crane Climb ‘ RIDING THE STACK’
‘Here today and gone tomorrow’. It’s the nature of things in modern society, as the old saying goes. Swansea’s rapidly changing profile in SA1 over the last few years is proof of that.
In early July 2007 like most commuters on the interminable daily bump and grind through the city centre traffic, I had many opportunities whilst stationary at traffic lights on Oystermouth Road, to glance up at the development and construction of the Tower at Meridian Quay that was moving apace. The tower itself was in its infancy then, no more than a few shapeless blocks of concrete at first and second floor levels.
On one such reflective moment something caught my eye more anything else and that was the tower crane that dominated the Marina skyline. At 107metres high (350ft) this flimsy stork’s leg setup was the hub of construction at the site and dwarfed all else around it at that time.
As a professional climbing photographer high places and open spaces have always held an attraction for me and glancing up at the slender mecchano set-up of the crane, fired up my interest and I vowed to scale the structure one way, or another. Firstly, because it was a challenge to climb and secondly because I wanted to take a panoramic photograph from its lofty span.
It all seems different today, now that the construction workers have gone and the crane as been dismantled. Back then, the prestigious £50 million Meridian Quay Tower was the buzz talk of the city. Trumpeted as Wales’s tallest residential building with an aerial restaurant boasting fine views across the bay, it was to be the jewel in the crown of the city’s marina development.
As a lifelong climber I had undertaken many impressive ascents in the Alps, including Mont Blanc, the West Face of the Eiger and The Matterhorn and other rock climbs in Spain. I had also ascended many the UK’s most notable mountain peaks in both summer and winter and in October 1988 got to the top of the awesome ‘Old Man of Hoy’, a gigantic teetering 460 foot rock stack off Scapa Flow in the Orkneys, which is Britain’s remotest summit. Those climbs were on solid masses that had been in place for years. Rickety metal was a different kettle of fish. On several recent photographic assignments I had also scaled the mast of Wales tallest yacht twice (100ft) and ‘topped out’ on the Newport Transporter Bridge (320ft) twice whilst shooting the longest death slide in the country for an adventure sports company.
I knew the chances of gaining access to The Tower crane legitimately, were very slim indeed. I could see issues with liability, health & safety and risk concerns being a big factor weighing against me and I wasn’t hopeful , as a non construction worker, that I would succeed.
With nothing to lose I decided to approach the management of Carillion & Earthquake the construction company building the Meridian Quay Tower and asked outright for consent. The site managers were understandably nervous and sceptical and initially suspected I might be a ‘Craniac’, (that is a base jumper that leaps from cranes). I assured them I had no wish to end my life prematurely by doing that, nor did I wish cancel the long life milk and ditch my long playing record collection any time soon either..
In a desperate bid to reassure the site managers of my climbing credentials, I supplied them with a disk of photos cataloging my extreme exploits - dangling off mountain walls and sea cliffs for climbing magazines and books. Having accepted the disk they thanked me and said they would seek higher direction on the matter and get back to me. I left the offices at Trawler Road feeling distinctly pessimistic, there were warning signs plastered everywhere ‘Caution ! …Protective Harnesses Must Be Worn ! Beware Falling Objects ! Attention ! High Voltage Cables ! Care !...Danger of Death’, which did nothing to bolster my confidence.
I made a few tentative telephone calls in the ensuing days to Carillion’s management, but only got their answer machine. With negative thoughts swirling in my head I was resigned to the polite but expected reply of ‘Thank you but no thanks’ from the construction company.
To my total surprise two weeks later I received a telephone call to meet Carillion’s UK Property Developer Mr Brad Wood. In a cordial chat I again explained that my intention was to climb the crane solely to take panoramic photos for posterity. Fortunately Mr Brad Wood had a sensible and mature approach and granted my request saying that my calling was fortuitous, as the company were in need of panoramic images from the top of the crane to promote the Penthouse Restaurant that would be sited on top of the Meridian Tower. Their crane driver had been given a compact camera to shoot photos from the crane for them but unfortunately they were not successful as he was a crane driver and not a photographer!
In the weeks that followed I moved closer to my goal. I underwent a construction site safety course with Carillion and was given health & safety advice on aerial access by site safety officers, all of which I duly noted.
I was informed not to be alarmed when climbing the crane itself as the metal lattice work of the structure was designed to flex, twist and bend with the forces - otherwise it would snap in half. I really didn’t want to hear this a few days prior to the ascent.
Finally at dawn on 30th July 2007 with a feeling of presentiment I arrived at the construction offices of Carillion. As I racked up in my climbing helmet, full body harness with various attachment slings and an assortment of karabiners (metal links) for my own personal safety, it suddenly felt oppressively heavy and restrictive. I had to shoulder a heavy rucksack, which contained all my camera gear, various lenses and a broadcast quality video camera. There would be no nipping back to ground level every 10 minutes for a toilet break or to change lenses, the crane was just too high for that. It took the crane driver 35 minutes to reach the top I was told.
At last I was taken to a hatch door in a high perimeter metal fence. The safety officer barked something into his walkie talkie radio and informed me that the crane driver was now aware I was on the crane. He wished me good lucky, gave a thumbs up and in a moment was he was.gone.
I stepped through the gate which is constantly kept locked for security reasons and as I glanced directly upwards I saw I was standing at the base of the crane which now soared dizzily for 350 feet above my head. The whole crane seemed to have an incredibly small footprint barely 10 foot square for such a mass of steel protruding out hundreds of feet above me. Convincing myself that the engineers had done their homework on the laws of physics and motion dynamics, there was no more delay, the sense of excitement and adrenaline rush was spurring me on.
I scrambled onto the zig zag metal ladders set at easy angles at first, but as I ascended the layout quickly changed. As I gained height the ladders went up vertically. The sense of exposure and isolation became more acute the higher I climbed through the thin girder work. The weight of gear and the cumbersome rucksack I was carrying made it difficult to see my foot placements, and every step left me panting for breath. After gaining more height I began to get a rhythm going and my climbing technique took over. Approximately 35 minutes later I edged precariously out alongside the pod that contained the crane driver.
Now the full effect of my exposed position was truly evident. The whole city lay below me in miniature and the mixed sense of exhilaration and fear added to the ambience of the setting. The crane driver, Bill opened the cab door and greeted me with a Scots accent and a broad smile. After exchanging some chit chat Bill announced that to gain the horizontal spans 20 feet above the cab I had to squeeze through a 3 foot diameter moving ring wheel with serrated teeth which posed a danger to me. This toothed rotating wheel known as the slew ring was the mechanism on which the whole crane turned and was turning as we chatted. Bill told me he would hold the crane stationary for about 2 minutes whilst I scrambled through the ring gear and then he would resume working. I quickly scampered up the outside girders and started squirming through the slew ring. There were electrical motors, steel cables and other live machinery in motion to negotiate.
Twice my trailing slings snagged on the metal work and after some anxious moments feverishly tugging them free I scuttled through onto the flimsy gantry at the top of the crane. Any minute I thought the gears would activate and I would end up as four tins of cat food in the winding gear. Luckily Bill was generous with his timing and at last I was free to clamber onto the length of the top most span itself.
Nervousness gave way to elation as I took stock of my outrageous aerial position I briskly unloaded my camera kit and spread it around on the narrow metal gangway. As I got tooled up for the shoot I was brought back to sudden reality as the crane’s hugh bulk lurched alarmingly and sprang into life. Everything started vibrating and rattling which took me by surprise and I watched disconcertingly as £10,000 pounds worth of camera equipment started edging away towards the unprotected gangway sides and were in danger of taking a magical mystery tour to the bottow of the marina 350ft below. I quickly grabbed it all together and anchored it and myself to the girder work. As I assembled my camera gear and started shooting leaning off the sides the crane started rotating jerkily like a world war two battle tank turret. The huge crane jib swung around at 90 degrees and bucked like a nodding dog, as it lifted a huge concrete panel far below.
Over a three hour period I filmed, photographed and documented the views for Carillion from this most privileged position. I learnt to shoot dangling off the sides of the jib and synchronize what I was doing with the constantly moving crane. One minute I was dangling over the marina, the next I was over the Marriott Hotel. The gangway on the back span was not solid flooring but a thin metal mesh through which I could see way below, tiny boats, people and cars It was scary and fascinating in equal measure.
An anxious wriggle back through the slew ring after trying to get Bill’s attention to stop the crane briefly found me heading back down to ground level and terra firma. Twenty minutes later it was all over. After a brief pose for two photographer colleagues to snap a photo of me, I climbed the crane a further three times as it neared completion a year later. The Meridian Quay Tower now stands completed and forlorn where the crane used to be, but it never fires me up me with the same magical buzz and exhilaration that I got from making that first ascent of the crane. It was a privilege to be the first photographer and person to savour the sights from the Penthouse Restaurant and to never have visited the restaurant !
Carl Ryan
