A Playground for the Ages

In a secluded valley that is none too easy to get to even if you have been entrusted with the location, something quite unusual is being built.  It's a playground for grownups.  Some of it is above ground but most of the decade long project has been dedicated to excavating the sandstone cliff face.  A three dimensional maze.  A small tavern.  And assorted work spaces and projects in progress that sometimes just lead you to whimsical niches and shrines.  Its creators say people will be able to come here and enjoy it for a thousand years.   

Welcome to Sandland.

The people behind this project are unapologetic eccentrics.  Many of them come from the world of "urban explorers".  These are adventurous souls who seek out the tunnels, caves, sewers and other hidden places that form an underground network below the feet of oblivious city dwellers.  As this activity is not - to put it mildly - approved of by The Authorities, these people have "explorer names".  At Sandland these are used interchangeably with their (presumed) real names.

Here at Detritus of Empire I occasionally speak of my "underworld contacts".  One of these fellows is involved with Sandland so when I reached out regards a visit I had someone to vouch for me.  It lead a fascinating afternoon.

Here you see upper and lower entrances.  There is a cable car system to bring out excavated sand and dump it in a huge pile.

Into the labyrinth!  My guide gave me no directions in this three dimensional puzzle.  He said that it's the decisions we make are really the important part.  As my sense of spatial geometry is rather good I found a quick way through.  My guide seemed vaguely disappointed.

The maze is a system of low passageways,  you wear knee pads as there will be places where crawling is necessary.  That gets you right up close to the geology.  This is Jordan Sandstone.  Easy to mine and quite solid once it has been exposed to air for a while.  It also has beautiful striations of iron oxide and I think a bit of copper.  I thought it resembled a rich dessert.

In the other working areas of Sandland the tunnels are tall enough to walk in and wide enough for sand carts.  Wiring conduit, air vents and minor jokes are distributed liberally.

Another major feature is the "donut room".  This ring structure has seven passages coming off of it.  Why seven?  Because it is a number that people are not expecting.  Here a convoy of sand carts await their turn to be dumped.

The side passages go to various places, or sometimes go nowhere.  You might find a little shrine with colorful mineral samples.  You might find a remarkably challenging geocache.  Or you might find a Gabe Bar.  By the way, when this phrase is spoken through a respirator mask it sounds like something else.  But no, it was just excavated by a guy named Gabe.  Here I am tending bar, respirator snugly on as sand cutting was going on around the corner.

There is a sort of underground tram way with winch for dragging out the sand.  Far in the distance is the Normal, Outside World.

Well, maybe the Normal World starts a bit farther off.  Above ground Sandland also has a rifle range, a trebuchet, an elaborate tree house and a decommissioned monorail train which contains a shrine to a retired Professional Wrestler.  Because, why not.

 

Will Sandland indeed be entertaining and puzzling people in a thousand years?  I don't see why not.  I've visited places underneath Rome, Orvieto and other towns that are in perfect shape after  longer spans of time.  The geology is stable, the engineering effort considerable, and this remote site seems quite unlikely to be developed any time soon.

A few parting notes.

Sandland is an undertaking that will not make sense to goal oriented people, which includes most of American culture.  They would ask "why?".  That of course is an irrelevant query.  Creative minds have already decided that it will be done.  All that is left to ask is when and how.

With my interest in such matters it has been proposed that batches of home brew beer be parked in Sandland to age.  This of course is an exact, if highly extravagant, analog of how it was done in the 19th century.  There are some logistical challenges but I've already decided that this will be done.  The rest is just figuring out the when and how.

I mentioned that Sandlanders tend to go by their "Underground names".  To get into the spirit of things I did say they could use my alter ego "Badger Trowelsworthy".  Now it is not easy to read expressions in dimly lit caverns where people have half their faces covered by respirators.  But I got the distinct impression that they'd heard that name before.  Curious and a bit disquieting.  If this turns out to be a genuine lead it would be the first hint of the old scoundrel since 2018. 

Perhaps we are not done with him yet. 

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