Tunnel Vision
Holly Blackmore
The old Helensburgh Tunnels have been devoid of locomotives since 1915. A short hike led us to this ominous opening, planted amidst the foliage. We’d heard rumours of glow-worms to be found in there, in that dirty, dank shaft. Word has it that the ghost of a coal miner can be seen running through the black, away from a phantom train.
Surfaces were slippery underfoot. From the outside, the depth of the tunnel was tantalising and simultaneously terrifying - I can’t say that I’m a fan of such enclosed spaces. There were faint echoes of a voice from somewhere far within. My arms covered in goose-bumps, steps short and deliberate. Dad powered on ahead. He’d been enthused about the prospect of glow-worms for days.
Further and further, the outside world receding into a mere speck of green and white light. In its entirety, the tunnel stretches for over six hundred metres, but any sense of distance is distorted once inside. After several minutes we noticed a few, glowing strips plastered on the ceiling. Voices hushed and torches pointed at our feet. Soon, worms wrapped the entire surface.
We stood for ages under their gentle radiance. It was difficult to decide to leave. Something you don’t see everyday; something you might never see again, so pure and unregulated. They’ve since closed off the Tunnel’s entrance to allow for ‘repopulation’. Will it ever be the same? An hour we will never forget. Hundreds of metres into a haunted locomotive shaft, staring intently at the curved bricks above us.
