My last trip to Liverpool was around two years ago, and it was one of the more fruitful expeditions I remember in recent times, in terms of quantity, but not necessarily quality.
I arranged a trip with 
Later in 2024, this would not be the case, as the number of explores declined, but for now, the next batch will all be Liverpool and outlying areas based.
We arrived at ‘The British Rope Works’ early and hoped that the front window gauze on a recent explorers post would still be peeled away. Zooming in and having a good look told us how to get in if the local authorities had not stepped in and sealed it up.
That, or the ‘sealers’ as we call them, aka the spoilers of fun and adventure.
The British Rope Works, which was active from the 1960s until the early 2000s, specialised in the manufacture and distribution of ropes, cables and wires as well as tugger, towing and trawler winches.
They supplied many businesses operating on the nearby docklands. As with many businesses around this area, production went overseas to cut costs, and many businesses ceased production. The building was later used for storage before falling into a state of dereliction. - Source
The textual history above is courtesy of
“It’s open, I can see the gap”, I said to
…’see the hole, second window from the right. Its looks wide open, but trust me it was not!’…
Metal gauze can be a pain in the arse to get past, especially if it’s scraping your skin when trying to bypass it. I don’t recall the entry to ‘The British Rope Works’ as particularly demanding on this occasion, but still required some effort.
We had only just gone inside when some scruffy, skinny bloke wandered past outside, sniffing around and peering through what was a window. Did he live here, were we the intruders?
Did he see us get inside? I had to remind myself I was in Liverpool, and ‘crime’ is quite normal here.
Minutes later, he was gone; not a big deal. Carry on as though nothing happened.
My first thought was, ‘Where’s all the rope?’
It was a large room, filled with the usual bric-a-brac that abandoned businesses tend to yield, the mandatory shopping trolley, a lot of dead bracken (where the fuck did that come from?), and a musical instrument in the far corner.
I honed in on what looked like a vintage organ right away, a genuine Hammond no less.
Someone had murdered this lovely instrument. Hacked all the ends off the keys. Why would you do that?
Whenever I approach a chest freezer such as this, I always hope the inside will not reveal a dead body. This one was quite empty, albeit a little pungent.
Why would a three-piece suite be in here? If it were an entrance lobby for prospective customers, then surely some more conventional seating would be more appropriate?
Given the amount of derelict keyboards I was finding, could we have climbed in to an old keyboard retailers? Still, I could not see a single fibre of rope.
No matter how inviting it looked, there was no chance I was going to plant my arse down on that paint-splattered armchair.
Yes, this was an old keyboard retailer or wholesaler. When you come across three of them, what else could it be?
What a great place for toddlers under the strict eye of an adult right next to you in that swivel chair.
Perhaps a little sanding, plastering, and painting could bring back some life to the old place?
I have seen narrow passages like this with shelves many times. There are tins of paint up there and nothing else. No hidden girly magazines right at the back, I speak from experience.
A dismal place to sleep, but someone has tried it. If they still ‘live’ here, then they are a very early riser.
I can’t see much of an open fire happening here, unless you threw on the gas cylinders and tried to detonate them. Yes, that would work, but it could possibly be a little overkill.
Is that where all the bracken came from? It grew out of a rusty barrel, and someone transported it into the ‘keyboard room’?
Now what’s that at the top of this image? Some vintage luxury ladies' underwear, I figure. The delights I get to see in these places.
We poked our heads through the hole, looked left and right, and seeing nobody exited ‘The British Rope Works’ quietly.
'Rope Works'.., where's the rope?
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