Tales of the Urban Explorer: The Elms

The last time we had tried ’The Elms’, we had looked upon a refined hotel, sealed as tight as a duck’s arse with no chance of getting in.

@grindle had been lucky and had somehow managed to climb through a window, months beforehand and see the glory of a non-wrecked place. Then the sealers came back and did a fine job.

We were mooching around the Liverpool area and figured we would give it another crack. It had been kind of on the 'scene' without hitting the TourBus, and we would be in for a shock when arriving.

The Elms has had some dodgy history, this being an insurance scam in 2018 where the owner lost everything.

Whoa... "What the fuck happened here?", I said to @anidiotexplores who was very tentatively stepping over a small wall, the same wall that managed to cut open his leg last time, thanks to the evil barbed wire purposefully placed.

In a word, lots had happened. Even from a distance, we could see it had been totally trashed. Had the owners lost interest, had they written it off, did they trash it themselves?

The upper windows had been smashed, but there was little reason to climb up there when plenty of doors around the back had been cannoned open. This was now a walk-in.

Taking care to ensure the male Karen on the other side of the road in the tacky stop-by shop was not watching, we crept around the back and walked in through a door.

Initially, it looked respectable, apart from all the broken glass scattered around. So long as you don't bring your two-year-old with you who is likely to crawl about the place, there would be no tears.

The front door I presume, why not put all the glass through, pointless exercise?

You may as well smash the furniture while you are at it; someone had been having a right go in here.

As well as being completely fucked, the ivy had gone mad and covered up a large section of ’The Elms’.

I was amazed the chair was intact and usable. Sitting on it could have caused a collapse, I didn't try.

The narrow corridors were amazingly squishy underfoot. How can something deteriorate so quickly?

Now, this looks interesting. Mr Kuhnle with a court summons for a motor incident? Surely the insurance would have covered all this, or did he concede blame, or was he uninsured?

It gets better and all happened long ago in 1990. Mr Heath was detained in court? Does that mean he was sent to the slammer?

A year later and nothing has been resolved. We are not going to know what happened.

Look at the scribbling, Mr Heath - a first payment of £200, and I thought he was in jail getting it up the arse at Wormwood Scrubs.

What used to be the office was like everything else at ’The Elms’, a mess and sadly there was no more drama regarding Mr Kuhnle, the non-payer.

I gazed out of the window looking at the vans and trucks within the grounds of ’The Elms’, and all in a similar abandoned state.

The story unfolds a little more, Mr Heinz Kuhnle…, employed in 1966 and not sticking around so long at 'The Chester Country Club'.

So he's an old dude who must be retired now, crashes his car, says… 'IT WAS HIM, NOT ME', and then drags all this courtroom stuff out.

Then somehow 'Mr Heath' gets the blame, and ends up in jail, then Kuhnle feels sorry for him and sends him some cash. Does that sound about right?

Just one year later and Mr Kuhnle, who I must assume was the owner of ’The Elms’ is looking to expand onto some adjoining land. This other dodgy business must have been sorted by then.

Just look at this place, I was thinking twice about going in this room, talk about quickly deteriorating floors in one year.

After all the excitement we descended, replacing deadly holey floors with the slightly safer squashy type that could potentially break your ankle on the ground floor.

It was no more than two years ago when this was fully sealed. Now gaping holes show everywhere.

At times it was easier to exit and enter at one of the other entry points to get around, there was no shortage of windows or doors to climb or walk through.

This was the bar and the initial point of entry for the general public.

Now that window I might have a few issues climbing through, fortunately, it was a moot point.

If there was alcohol here, it’s long gone. The smashers may have guzzled it down and that instigated their rampage on ’The Elms’.

I tend to give kitchens a wide berth; they tend to be on the smelly side if you get my drift.

’The Elms’ is the gateway to Wales, a nice place to stop for the night before enduring the mandatory 20mph speed limit imposed by their government on many roads.

If you sit on the edge of whatever the fuck that is, a cosy fire will remove those travel-weary bones of yours.

After a drink traipse down the corridor keeping to the edges unless you want to lose a foot.

Too many beers? Take a piss and relieve yourself in the finest toilets known to man, fitted with porcelain pieces shipped in from ancient Greece.

After a refreshing sleep, one can literally be with nature while walking the corridors to the checkout area.

Mr Kuhnle; head chef, supplier of Vaseline and former owner of ’The Elms’. I hope you are not still with us to witness what I saw.

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