Nikola Tesla, the genius overlooked by history, had since childhood dreamt of harnessing the power of the Niagara Falls to create energy.
Teamed with Westinghouse, Telsa's dream became a reality in the late 19th century, when the Edward Dean Adams Hydroelectric plant was planned.

Adjacent to the river feeding the Horseshoe Falls, and just 500 meters from the ever-present plume of mist and thunder of the falls, the PowerStation was founded.
With Greek-inspired design, it looked more like a museum, barely two stories above the ground. Hidden behind the sandstone columns, however, lies the plant floor, studded with Tesla's AC generators, and punctuated by 8 story plunges to the wet darkness below.

It was with slight nervousness that we approached the river-side of the generating plant- a chain link fence, the explorer's best friend, provided access to a deep channel, guarded by rusted ballistrading, the waters placid next to the turbulent river directly adjacent. Edging around the beveled concrete, we arched ourselves through the spider-web barricaded windows, into the cool of the plant floor, and were greeted by one of the most amazing exploration sites.

The rusting grill floor dropped off sharply into a deep channel, dimly illuminated above by dust-fogged windows, but lit in brilliant aqua-marine from deep below. Silhouettes of passing schools of fish offered little perspective to the volume and depth.

Lining the channel were turn screws as thick as my torso that punctured huge concrete blocks, which one day controlled the flow of this now-still canal into the depths of the PowerStation. Crossing the floor into the generating hall, an array of 10 or more brightly coloured generators stood still, surrounded by the swirling mist that filled every part of the PowerStation. Orange outlines gently highlighted sections of the floors as "SHAFT - NO STEP".

Taking the sole ladder off the floor, and twisting up a tight spiral staircase, dried paint crackled beneath our feet, long ago defeated by the persistence of the mist. After ascending the wooden ladders of the attic, we were presented with the best and arguably most unseen panorama of the falls. From the flood gates installed up the river, which regulate legislated-minimum amount of water to eager tourists at the falls, to the shaft of white where the falls were, past down the American falls, and the pools of thick foam in the distance below.

Arming ourselves with Dutch courage, the darkness enveloped us instantly as we descended into the darkness below the generator hall. As we traversed the length of the hall, intermittent drops to the left constantly reminded us just how rusty and delicate our surroundings were. I dropped a stone into a shaft, to find myself wondering if I'd missed hearing its arrival, only to hear a distant splash six seconds later acknowledge that the fall below was indeed one to be reckoned with.

Determined to go lower, and egged on by Siolo's constant natter and insistence, we began the descent into the depths. Two floors down, we saw the pipes that ducted the water from the channel, deep to the floor of the PowerStation. At the bottom of the 8 storey drop, the pipes became one quarter of their diameter, and after squeezing through the turbines, were dumped into the exit tunnel.

We followed the stairs down as far as we could go, until the stairs turned into a ladder, which finally came to a stop in a semi flooded floor. Torches and courage failing, we made the long trek over the delicate stairs back to the top of the station.

The level that we had descended to, in actually was the turbine hall, and the exit tunnels, now reduced to a trickle, run parallel and deep beneath the station. Only accessible via single rope technique, they join and run the full distance to the falls, an exit behind the curtain of the water. They must be a sight to behold, being about 10 meters high, slightly oblong, and made completely from red brick.

On reflection, I think we definitely overlook the sheer engineering feats accomplished over one hundred years ago, when technology was restricted to tools basic in comparison to ours now - and these monuments have stood the test of time, hundreds of feet below one of the wonders of the world.

Fingers tired from the shutter button, we took the tourist walk along the falls, getting soaked by the permanent rain that is the throwback from the waterfall mist. Casting our eyes downwards, and past the Maid of the Mist, as she struggled against the currents, bobbing forth and then retreating, the Ontario Hydro Power plant sat, nestled amongst the greenery that had overtaken in the years since its closure, thriving in the sub-tropical conditions.

Vastly celebrated, but financially strained after the opening of its PowerStation, Westinghouse battled takeover bids and attempted stock-market manipulation by one of its investors, before begging Tesla to surrender his 10% of the plant profits. Tesla, ever the gentleman, is said to have torn up the contract; Westinghouse recovered to the company it is today, and Tesla faded into obscurity, taking only solace in the perfect manifestations of his dream.

I've had troubles starting this report. The actual exploration aside, the history and proportion of the building is in itself daunting.
Just under one mile from the Horseshoe falls on the mighty Niagara lies an awkward building. It has a period façade; but it is too slim to be a library or town hall. It's too close to the river to be any public building, and it's most certainly not a private building.

Each day, it is likely that hundreds of tourists stream and bustle past this building to shuffle for prime viewing locations of the falls.. yet upstream from the columns of mist that
rise without end, the Toronto Power Company power station still stands, as it has done for over one century.

Charged with the task of harnessing the power of the millions of liters of water that make the perpetual plunge, 1906 saw the beginning of construction for TPC.
The task was monumental and unprecedented in more than one aspect: the technical challenges of building a station so close to the river, the efficient production of the still green AC generation technology, and the manpower required to implement such a building.

Hydro electricity is simple in theory: Water is fed in, pushed through turbines, and then returned to the natural water system. What makes TPC so interesting is how it went about this. Bear in mind that the station sits directly adjacent to Niagara river - in fact, literally half of the power station was flooded as the water source.

This in itself was one of the most awe inspiring scenes I've ever witnessed.. underwater arches let the river flow in, shadows of playing fish flickered in the bright green depths and were met by the submerged sluice gates. Sadly, this forebay has been long since filled with concrete and gravel.

To power turbines, the water requires significant kinetic energy. In TPC, this meant dropping the water in vast pipes over eight floors underground, where it would erupt into the
turbines. The turbines were connected to shafts that ascended the eight-floor distance, and turned the generators to produce the current. It's an interesting side-note, and one that is not well known that the generators in TPC were the first AC generators of the genius Nikola Tesla. Sadly, these too are now gone.

By now, the scale of the infrastructure required for this operation should be starting to emerge. Down the entire length of the stations huge columns of water roared into the darkness, and their energy was return the height of the drop. Like an iceberg, 9/10ths of the station is underground, underwater, and below the natural water table. Even to successfully build the so-far discussed elements is an amazing feat -

But what of the water? Now deep underground, the matter of returning the water to the river is problematic. The solution, incredible as it may seem, was simple by design: build a tunnel that ran the distance to the Horseshoe falls, and expunge the vast volumes of water back into the falls. Two converging egg-shaped tunnels of giant proportion were blasted, carved and inched out of the rock below the waters above. Scores of men paved these giant hidden tunnels brick by individual brick, and created the forgotten secret: Confluence.

I only know of two other groups of people who have entered this tunnels in recent years. I came to know of the tunnels about a year or so back, when I saw a photo that blew me away. I knew I had to go down and experience them myself. Ten months later found Siolgen, Infectoid and I standing in TPC, and making our way into the depths below the generator floor.

I've never been in a more daunting environment. As we entered the spiraling stairs, we couldn't help but notice, even in the absolute black, that it was raining hard - a regular downpour - inside a building. Over the last hundred years, streams of water from the river and the water table have fingered their way through cracks and concrete, and have eaten away slowly at everything. Iron bars broke in our hands. Stairs of thick steel rotted and fell beneath our feet, crashing into the dark below.

Somehow, we made it to the bottom, but it was so flooded and ruined, our hopes and courage faded with our torches, and we made our way back out of the beast.

One year later, I was back at TPC. This time, there was seven of us: dsankt, skaut, nel58, kowalski, micro, KAOS and myself. We made the icy journey from Toronto to Niagara.

Accommodation and food became irrelevant details on our quest for confluence. We drove past - and how it had changed. Silhouettes of construction vehicles poised for imminent destruction were cast on the windows, and an ever present security guard was positioned opposite the station. Four hours later, we returned. The guard had the heat on in his car: he wasn't going anywhere.

While we waited, Kowalsi, Skaut and micro made the attempt to recon the inside. Hours later they returned to the hotel with bad news: The hole that had once led directly to the stairs had been emptied of its scaffolding, a steel plate had been placed over the staircase, and it had been bolted. Plans were put on hold, and we all took some restless sleep.

The next day we prepared: batteries, road flares, food, drinks, and a huge shifting spanner were purchased. We passed some more hours in the hotel, distracted ourselves with a pacman machine at a local pizza place, then made the final trip to the hotel. Bags were packed. Layer upon layer of clothes were put on: it was -13 degrees C outside, and the water of Niagara was bound to be colder. Passports were pocketed - if dsankt or I were caught, we would need them for our guaranteed deportation order.

We parked and made the walk to the station. My waders slipped in the ice. We caught our breath, regrouped, and prepared for our entrance. In plain sight of the security guard, we ducked and clung to the fence line, painfully contrasted in black to the snow, despite the dark. Around one fence, we followed the tracks of the guard’s previous round, and ducked the final fence to the now rubble filled forebay of the station.

Taking no chances, we moved swiftly to the stairs below the generator floor, and faced our next challenge: the metal plate. dsankt and I unbolted the nuts, painfully aware that every noise had 8 stories of infrastructure to bounce and amplify off before reaching the main floor. Plate ajar, the descent into absolute dark began.

"Remember stair discipline" hissed Kowalski. The rotting stairs would struggle with the weight of just one with gear - we couldn't risk any more. We made our way through the artificial rain, down a final ladder, across the rotten wooden flooring, to the rusted iron gate.

We were hit by the wind, and immersed in the distant roar of water. We squeezed past the door, and came to the gap, our torched probing into the dark below.

dsankt and I began to rig our SRT lines. Two lines, one for people, one for gear. One for us, one for safety. If you were to get stuck in Confluence, it would surely suck - probably worse than just being stuck in a drain. In confluence: you have an choice - the raging falls, or the enveloping darkness.

Gear double checked, Skaut began the descent. Halfway down, woops of excitement filtered up to us over the roar of the water. Over the space of an hour, gear and explorers gently dropped from darkness to darkness.

We hesitantly pressed forward - we were in confluence.
The place was - is - amazing. You can easily overwhelm yourself if you try to bring it identifiable terms: how many bricks, how many men, how many hours, how many lives..

The pictures don't really come close to telling the entire story. If you walk the full length of the tunnel, you come to a lake. The lake was constructed by the final blasting to open the tunnel to the falls - but it wasn't from the inside out- the ultimate blasts of confluence were placed by men who incredibly scaled the face of the falls themselves.

Nel and I waded out as far as we could go - Nel's waders were higher than mine, so she went out further, and there I was, standing in the dark, surrounded by the never-ending symphony of water smashing over the lip of the falls. Just up ahead, I watched sheets of water sweeping across the tunnel end, illuminated in ghostly colours from the lights outside.
I couldn't help but feel I was at the edge of another world- a journey to the center of the earth, the distant tempest a doorway to a twilight land of never-ending rain.

That was confluence. In the coming weeks, it will be sealed, and will disappear from memory and thought, just like the lives of those who selflessly created it. Niagara's greatest secret will fall into shrouds of memory once more.

The floor immediately under the generator hall.

Shots from confluence: