herr2ck: Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

The Portal to Hell, known by various other nicknames such as the Gates of Hell and the Blood Bowl, is a graffiti-coated storm drain hidden in a ravine in Old North. I suppose this will be this blog’s first venture into urb3x0r territory, since “drainers” (not to be confused with Bladee fans) are a part of the urbex community.

Normally, I would omit the location, but it’s all over the internet anyways, so why bother. There’s even a park named after it nearby. The Portal to Hell is located at the northeast corner of High Street and Arcadia Avenue in the Old North Columbus neighborhood of Columbus, Ohio. It is probably closest to the Tim Horton’s immediately north of it.

History

There isn’t much objective history entailed in this site, since it has a more civil engineering-related nature than architecture. The county auditor’s website just labels it as part of the Tim Horton’s property and gives no data on the drain itself. Most of the “history” online is just speculation or urban legend.

Anyways, the “Blood Bowl” name comes from a rumor that a skateboarder died while carving the half-pipe made by the massive concrete ravine, according to the Ohio Exploration Society. Other sources are more sensational and claim the skateboarder was murdered, or that their death opened a portal to Hell. I sure didn’t notice any flaming demons coming out of cracks in the concrete.

Photos

I’ll keep the method I used to access the creek a secret, just because I can, but it seems like other people online definitely got it wrong. Let’s just say that my way didn’t involve slipping down any steep slopes. Tim Horton’s has also fenced off the ends of their parking lot.

Glen Echo Creek was looking awfully pastoral on this late fall day, and the bed was essentially dried up, so it was a perfect day for me to make my way down and explore. That meant no Charon to take me across the River Styx. These days it’s pretty rare for me to do any exploring off the paved sidewalk (granted, I do urban photography), so it was a welcome departure from the way “the man” wanted me to take.

As I approached the first gate, there was no sign of Cerberus, either, only a large concrete pad covered in leaf litter.

I’m unsure if the gate always had that massive opening, or if an inventive local entrepreneur took a Sawzall to it. Seems like a fun enough place to mess around with some off-road vehicles.

Looks like it still did its job, too--note the giant branch stuck between the steel members.

This is the first sign of the graffiti that soon comes to cover every single surface of the tunnel. Since the beams here are small, the pieces are usually tags and stickers:

I imagine the turnover here is just about as often as the Venice Beach graffiti walls.

I tried messing around with the perspective here, but as usual when I attempt anything that isn’t regular architectural photography, the results weren’t excellent.

Trippy.

I thought some artist had the name OPERS like the Ohio Public Employees Retirement System, but it’s actually OPER8.

Maybe this gap was always there. Pretty hard to cut steel I-beams.

Viewed from the back:

The top had a sort of trough to it, which captured tons of dead leaves:

Now to the actual “gates” of the Gates of Hell. Again, the actual function of these is to prevent large debris from getting into the drain, but it’s fun to think of alternative descriptions for it. Maybe it’s a pen meant to keep the demons trapped inside from escaping and terrorizing middle-class Clintonvilleites!

None of this graffiti is particularly great, and it’s all dissed and painted over by Clintonville kids with cans of Rustoleum, anyways.

ARES/ADES is about the only one here with a piece that isn’t completely laughable.

Imagine living in these houses on Arcadia and having to listen to teenagers sneak booze and/or weed down here every night. At least it’s not directly visible from the backyards.

The opening here is wide enough for a regular person to fit through, but there’s also another one that’s much larger on the side:

I’ve seen RENO up elsewhere in Columbus, and as was the case for the ravine walls, their tag is the only one not done by a toy.

Very strange perspectival effects made by the odd plan of the beams:

Polychrome paint meets earth tones:

I arrived to the belly of the beast, and saw this unholy gaping maw staring me down:

Zoinks! I don’t like the look of this one, Scoob.

You think these guys brought a stepladder?

Little green man:

No heavily graffitied area is complete without the trite social commentary.

One last look at the cage before heading in:

Apparently I am such a tyro at urbex that I forgot even basic conventions of the practice, e.g. bringing a flashlight. I was left to fire flash shots blindly, hoping some demented homeless person wouldn’t come rushing out screaming at me. This process was unnerving, as I am naturally a rather skittish person.

Same view in portrait:

The graffiti pieces sickly warped around the circular tunnel, making for a rather disconcerting perspectival effect. I can almost feel a pull from these images even now. I just took my shots and gingerly crept forward, telling myself that if any shadow people appeared in these shots, it would be a future herr2ck problem.

I think those first few images were just from the edge of the tunnel with daylight behind, and these next ones actually use the flash. You can tell because they are much more evenly lit.

See, I was hardly even in the dang tunnel, and I was already jumping at unexpected water drips.

There is a bit of a cutout at this first bend, where part of the circular pipe goes away and instead has square walls:

I think at this point I was entirely navigating by creeping a few steps forward, snapping a flash photo, and repeating the process.

Peeking around the corner:

Phew…no sneaky Krampuses around the bend, just a giant lotus flower.

Little did I know, though, that there is actually a graffiti piece of a black silhouette on that back wall intended to spook easily startled fools like me. It was just out of view.

I looked back and saw the light at the end of the tunnel:

Hey, who turned out the lights?

NOSFERATU?

Finally fresh air… I was free!

I left a different way than I came (climbing up the ravine and almost slipping back down again to my demise) and nonchalantly whistled my way back home.