First of all: I’d just like to apologise for the delay in posting this. In the extra time taken, I wrote up two separate blogs but deleted them both as they didn’t match the new style I’m trying to curate. This blog, like many others, reflects back to a time before Web3, before university; before there were real stress factors in my life. Looking back, this is the most free I have ever felt. Strolling the streets of NYC without a single sense of urgency, bar trying to make it to a roof for sunset/rise. These are days I aspire to re-live. Summer 2019; life hit its peak. Having just finished working eight months overtime in a little café, I had saved enough money to travel carelessly throughout the summer. Many of the photos featured in the Cities: Top to Bottom were taken in this time span. Things were going so well that I was able to visit New York twice; once solo, meeting and spending time with locals, and a second time spending time with friends from home and abroad. It was on this second trip with the motivation of my hometown friends that we went for taller construction sites. At this time, there were three prominent sites in NYC that were being explored just about every weekend. One of my biggest regrets in exploring is sleeping through a possible sunrise on top of One Vanderbilt. The unique architecture and location makes it a dream to this day.
None the less, 111 Steinway was my first experience with super tall skyscrapers. Given the abundance of London clay situated under the capital, it is near impossible to build up without simultaneously digging around half the distance down. However, unlike London, New York is situated on bedrock, making it an architects playground. Steinway is a great example of this; famed for being the skinniest skyscraper in the world with a height-to-width ratio of 24:1. Planning for the skyscraper began back in 1916 but was delayed nearly a century due to lawsuits and an array of other problems and expenses.
At the time of our visit the building was in its final stages of topping out. I remember watching the crane at work from a nearby building at sunset, dreaming about being up there. As the light began to fade, we met up with another group and quickly realised that this was going to end up as a bigger group than initially planned. We had all individually looked at the building and had our own ways of attempting it. Given the layout of NYC streets options were limited. Unlike London, the building didn’t have four accessible fences and corners: instead, two busy streets with nosy, overlooking neighbours.
We hung out on the corner of a street discussing options. One side of the street was the sites main entrance and a little more heavily guarded, whilst the back entrance was a lot less secure, largely composed of complex scaffolding. It was mid discussion on how best to access the building that one person suddenly broke off from the group and approached the building. We stood in awe confused as he hoped the fence and disappeared into the site. We stood there in confusion, when suddenly another duo broke off and did the same. It had turned into a free for all.
This was quite worrying for us all. It is basic exploring sense to move in a co-ordinated way. Splitting creates a blind Russian roulette where each others actions may unknowingly get others in trouble. Confused and knowing the risks ahead, we tried to co-ordinate a better approach, at least if something had already gone wrong we would have known by now. We gave some more time to the groups ahed, using the time to acquire more clothing to prepare for the wind above.
Approaching the back of the building, I nominated myself to rush up the scaffolding to check if there were any hidden alarms or cameras ahead. Given the height and awkwardness of the scaffolding, it would be better if we didn’t collectively rush up, however, after getting to the top I could see that the coast was almost clear. It was while waiting at the top of the scaffolding we collectively observed an onlooker across the block who had just sat down in their window. My friends loitering below were spooked by this and began to get restless. They told me to go ahead, and they planned to circle the block hoping the nosy onlooker would go to sleep. I turned my back on them and began the long walk up the stairs. These stairs were no regular stairs, they were big steps. Although fewer in number they were noticeably larger making every floor more and more painful.
Eventually I reached the crossover to the crane, I couldn’t quite believe the view surrounding me. The height was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. For years I thought that I was numb to heights. That was until I stepped foot on the crossover. Given the buildings architecture and the extreme narrowing of height, the crossover stretched nearly half the width of the total site. Almost ironically this building gained the nickname “stairway to Heaven”. I had to take a step back to brace myself and mentally prepare. The size of the crossover can be seen, surrounded by bright orange fencing. Despite the initial anxiety, compared to London crossovers this was among the easiest to actually climb. London cranes often don’t have crossovers, at least accessible ones, alternatively they use poles which attach the crane to the building. These are the main access methods and are more challenging as they are much narrower and lack any form of rail support…
The climb up the ladder was exhausting, my legs were already tired from the stairs, but I was so close. I could already see my friends above so pushed through. Hauling my body up the last rung I couldn’t even greet my friends; I lay on the floor unwilling to move. We laughed at how absurd the crane was and how much easier it was compared to London; we couldn’t get over the fact that the building was about four times the average London site but then equally four times easier.
For those of you who are long time listeners to our Twitter spaces; you will recalled Eskilite’s poop story. Well… It was while taking in the view that Eskilite announced his stomach was not holding well… We all knew what that meant… We laughed as he took the walk of shame towards the back of the crane and took care of himself.
We had heard that it was one of the more challenging structures in the city. Like the steps in the building below, the gaps in the crane were noticeably larger. However, a large part of climbing a crane is about rhythm. I would never advise anyone to climb a crane, it’s hard to define how the process happens, but it’s something you do for yourself, not to imitate and impress others. However, a key part of climbing is working out the technique for the specific crane and repeating it over and over. Each crane is different and it’s when you work out the rhythm for that crane arm that you can relax and enjoy the climb. I often get asked what ‘technique’ I use and explain how there is no ‘right’ method.
There we sat: it’s quite hard to describe the feeling, but every thought and movement is a lot more purposeful. I often forget to take photos, caught in the moment, enjoying the surreal environment. This morning in particular had an unforgettable sunrise. Everywhere you looked, the sky was highlighted in different colours, it was as if a rainbows had burst into the sky. We climbed back down to the cabin to relax and enjoy the morning light as sunrise turned into sunlight.
It was only then that we noticed a few bodies climbing up the crane arm of the taller construction site next door, Central Park Tower. We headed down before the other party. Not being from the city it’s hard to know when work begins and these photos were too special to risk losing. I actually departed first, alone, as the other wanted to have a look around the building. We met up downstairs where we opted to go and observe the other group leave their site. It turned out that the group were actually friends of ours; I had actually crashed at their place last time I was in the city. We hung out together in Central Park, sharing stories and reliving our climbs over a couple of early morning beers.
