I went cycling earlier today down the towpath that connects my suburb to all over the city. After crashing into stinging nettles and nearly mowing down some pedestrians I come to a new obstacle I'd not taken a trip down before: Netherton Tunnel.

It is, quite frankly, the most terrifying thing I'd ever done on a bike. The formerly locked entrances have been ripped off the wall, it is 3km of pure blackness, the lights have been permanently switched off, and the towpath is covered in water, so you've no idea when a big hole is coming. Say, a big hole that your bike may struggle to get out of. The only light you get is every couple of thousand metres when a wide well drips a perfect circle of fluid into the canal, which leads nowhere. The water has been dormant on the footpath for so long the floor has turned into a sandy residue and every time you look up from the floor the exit is no closer. It is a frightening, eerie yet fascinating place.

Thus, it inspired this creepy piece of music. It haunts and it's weird from the beginning, but then, as you exit, in the light again, a peaceful relief passes you. I highly doubt this will be everybody's cup of tea, but imagine you're on a barge or narrowboat, heading down a long, arrow-straight tunnel, where the lights do not work, and you cannot see either side of the canal, you just hear things. Your speed is limited and you can see nobody and nothing except the tiny speck of light in the distance which is the ending. The dripping of water, the gushing of leaks, and the haunting remains of something that perhaps entered the tunnel, and never came out.

I am never going back into Netherton Tunnel.