I worked a few days recently as an extra, or "background talent," on some TV film sets. Mostly as a lark, out of curiosity, for a little money, but also to do some exploring.

I think I've retired. I did get inside some buildings not normally open to the public, but while there for the job, I found it hard to sneak away and snoop around. That is to say, it would have been easy, but I felt duty-bound to be "on call" in extras holding, because you never know when they're going to call you to the set.

As a job, I found it to be fun and interesting about 10% of the day, and tedious and boring 90%. I don't mind being paid to sit around and do nothing, and can entertain myself, but the worst is that you're hardly ever told what's going on, why you're waiting, when/if lunch will be, when your day might be over, etc. So you end up feeling like cattle.

Also, the early call times are killer. I hate early mornings. And sometimes you're staying up till 11 p.m. to get an email telling you your call time, which may be five or six in the morning. I don't know how people in the industry do it.

I did learn, I think, how easy it would be to infiltrate a film shoot. Considering all the people involved at different levels, I think it is virtually impossible that any one person could know everyone who is supposed to be on the property. When I arrived, no one ever asked me who I was or what I was there for. If anyone did, I think all you'd have to do is mutter "background" or "BG." As usual for infiltration, a look of bored entitlement should get you just about anywhere -- even the lunch truck!

I hope to try this out in Vancouver, where there's often a lot of shooting. And it's pilot season now ...

I'm also daydreaming about printing some "location scout" business cards, which could conceivably be used to get you into all sorts of places. "Could I talk to your building manager? How much do you charge to film from the roof? And could I take a few pictures?" I might need a nicer camera first, to make this plausible.

A couple of neighborhood rooftops:

The first is from the roof of Slvr condo, which I've been eyeing for a year. On a recent evening, I steeled myself for a run-in with on-site security, and took advantage of a POE (there haven't been many). I made a dash for the underground parking, then started systematically trying stairwells. None took me up the tower. One took me right into the room where the security guard was sitting (perhaps sleeping). Finally, by roundabout means, I managed to get into the tower stairwell and climbed thirty-odd flights to the roof. It was lovely and still up there, and the fog slowly rolled in and obscured my view.

The second is from Lmnt by Wstn, one of the tallest buildings in Metrotown, which has just opened for business and is currently one big POE. This won't last much longer.

By a very roundabout route, I managed to sneak into the swimming pool, but by my count I had to pass through three unlocked or taped-open doors, all of which will no doubt become secure within a month, if not a week.

The penthouse apartments will probably be finished in the same sort of time frame, after which this lovely view will become private property (and divided in thirds).

But I will always be able to say, "I was up on that building."

Before the rainy season set in here in the Big Drizzle, I made a point of checking out some drains.

I call this one MacGregor's Folly: "MacGregor" after the cute little planned community in South Burnaby where it is located ...

and "Folly" because it only runs the width of Marine Drive before it ends in this wall.

I didn't realize this at first. My flashlights are so weak that I couldn't make out what was ahead of me. The water dripping down the wall seemed to shimmer like a giant spiderweb, beyond which I caught glimpses of what appeared to be maybe plants in a ditch ... This was my first drain, and it was dark and damp and spooky in there, and, though the explore only lasted about five minutes, kind of exciting.

These stepirons, which I couldn't quite lift myself onto, appear to lead to the sidewalk on Marine Drive. No reason to climb them really, anyway.

My next drain I will call Crüe Tube.

This outfall lies near the bottom of a ravine path on the south slope, adjacent to an open stream in a manmade bed. I had to wade through the basin in swim shorts and sandals, ducking under that concrete barrier.

Crüe Tube is a round segmented drain that appears to be quite new. It is remarkably clean and unslimy. Even in rainy weather, it never seems to have more than a trickle of water coming out of it. And it has great acoustics. I sang a few bars of some song, and the reverb, especially on certain notes, was tremendous.

The stream which it appears to run alongside of extends about 400 meters down the slope, but I was never able to progress very far in Crüe Tube. It's a backbreaker. (The first time I visited I was also paranoid about oxygen deprivation.) There are stepirons up to manholes at intervals, but they are bolted down. Back topside, I could not determine where exactly the manhole covers were: they weren't in the path where you'd expect them. (But there are some covers in the path higher up the hill.) Alas, I'll probably never explore to the top of this drain.

I also spent some time investigating Still Creek. Here is your intrepid adventurer more or less directly underneath 29th Avenue Skytrain Station, I think:

If any beginner drainers are looking for a nice entry-level drain, you can't do any better than the section of Still Creek that runs under 22nd Avenue, by Renfrew Community Centre. It's extremely easy to access, you can move through it upright, and it's just long enough to be dark and exciting. Call it a super-culvert.

I upgraded my flashlight, and elsewhere, I won't say where, I found this place:

It's the best thing I've found in a drain. Not just because of the memorial, or the canning jar of goodies (including a map! which I photographed), but because it's large, light, and airy, due to the overhead grate, and has a dry barrier you can sit on, if you don't mind some grit falling on you from passing cars. It feels both cozy and exotic.

All in all, my first foray into draining was pretty rewarding. But I still prefer a good hotel pool.

Third try, finally got inside the old Plz Fv Hndrd hotel. No roof access, and not much to see beside bare floors, skeletal walls, some tools, and Tim Hortons cups -- although my exploration was somewhat curbed by the onsite security. I think I was playing cat-and-mouse with him/her in the stairwells at one point -- though they didn't call out, so maybe they didn't hear me.

Not much going in North Vancouver by way of hotel pools, but I did do a few lengths here:

I got into the card-locked change-room by pressing the handicap access button. First time that's ever worked!

I rounded out my afternoon with a stroll around Ln's Gt Hospital. There are some nice subbasements, giving access in one spot to the newest $62-million building, which is nearing completion.

Public-area furniture still fresh in its plastic.

Hospital beds too.

While still in the parking garage and looking for a stairwell up, I ignored a couple of women, hoping they'd ignore me. But then someone else called out to them, "Can I help you?" They were looking for their dog, so they claimed. They were informed that this parking lot wasn't open yet. I just kept walking, without looking back. Their presence at that exact moment probably saved me from the dreaded "Can I help you."

I finally resigned myself to using the elevator. I got off on the fourth floor as two construction or hospital personnel got on. They didn't even glance at me! I had the place mostly to myself. With my sights set on the roof, I tried another couple of stairwell doors, but they were card-locked. Finally in a third stairwell I found a twenty-foot ladder leading up to a roof-hatch. I climbed it, shakily opened the hatch, and peered out onto the roof. Climbing up over the lip of the hatch was going to be hard, but I knew the hardest part would be getting back onto the ladder from the roof. I talked myself into doing it.

Happily, there was on the roof an open door leading into one of the locked stairwells, which I was able to take down.

Some views from the roof:

There is this condo construction in my neighborhood that I have been watching for a year. There's usually a security guard (maybe always), and the rental fence is always closed up at night. It looks like the building is now as tall as it will be, so I feel time is running out for the crane. All I really have to do to enjoy the view (with or without the crane-climb) is wander in late one afternoon in a reflective vest and hardhat, or brazenly open the fence some Sunday afternoon. But I haven't been able to nerve myself to do either. There's perhaps a good chance of getting caught, but I doubt that this would be a big deal. (Most security guards I encounter politely apologize for not being able to let me look around.) A recent evening, winds had knocked down some fencing, and several people were repairing it. I thought: the perfect time to climb over the fence on the opposite side of the building! But I didn't go; I talked myself out of it. I decided that I'm overvaluing the target because I see it every day. But perhaps I'm just not that much of a ninja.

I went for an aimless bike ride on a recent weekend, and stopped along the way to wander into a condo under construction, a church basement, an arena and the old barns at PNE, and the presentation centre for Kensington Gardens condos, which is inside an old Canadian Tire building on Kingsway.

There were a lot of prospective home buyers milling around, so I was pleasantly neglected. After drinking in the display suites and the architectural models, I slipped past a small "Staff Only" sign, in search of a washroom. Then I stepped through this door, which was hanging open:

... and snooped around the cluttered, dusty, abandoned back and staff areas of the old store.

On my way out, I was sure to pick up their condo price list and one of their massive glossy advertising packages, each of which must cost $20 or more to print, and of which they had piles of boxes behind the scenes. I most enjoy the architect's CAD renderings, with their superreal buildings and their happy, unnatural, cut-and-pasted looking people.

The other night I hopped over the fence of my first security-guarded construction site. When I checked, the guard (or at least a guard) was in his car, reading with the interior light on, on the opposite side of the building. However, he (or another guard) soon discovered me in the parkade.

He was puzzled and annoyed, and took a disapproving paternal attitude towards my hobby. "You don't seem like a troublemaker. But you are young, and have much life ahead of you to live, and you must live honorably. If you get in trouble with the police, that could make your future very difficult." I explained that this was a risk I was willing to take, and that I hoped my harmless exploring wasn't too inherently dishonorable. He wanted to know (inevitably) how I'd gotten in, so I walked him back to the low part of the fence, then apologized again, hopped back over it, waved, and went away. He watched me, scowling, till I was out of sight.

So exploration isn't quite a victimless crime. Charming and disarming as I tried to be, that security guard's night probably wasn't exactly improved by our encounter. Whether or not he was technically breaking the rules by letting me go, he must have felt a little put-upon. He wouldn't engage in small talk with me, because, as he pointed out, his job was to keep people off the site at night, so I wasn't letting him do his job.

I like to think, though, that I am perhaps doing some small good. I am perhaps planting the seed of the idea that not everyone who hops fences at night is a troublemaker. And perhaps, for every vulnerable point of entry that I am forced to divulge, I am also making a little point of entry in the hearts of security guards all over town.

Two highlights for me of Doors Open Vancouver were the Vancouver Police Tactical Training Centre and Queen Elizabeth Theatre. The TTC's hour-long tour was impossible to sneak away from, but not boring.

The 25-meter firing range.

The 50-meter firing range.

Foam-padded foam-furnished foam room for practicing scenarios.

The Queen Elizabeth Theatre was closing to the public, to my surprise, just when I arrived, so I pretended not to hear that fact and "explored" the dimmest recesses of the auditorium for a few minutes while people were being ushered out. Then I spent 45 minutes crawling all over the place, including a fan room, on stage, in the orchestra pit, back stage, etc.

The rather dingy green room.

Rehearsal room.

I saw a few other buildings too.

A few downtown hotel pools:

One of these is totally accessible; only the change rooms are keycard locked, but you can change in the bathroom inside the pool area. One of these is accessible from the sundeck a floor up. One of these, currently under construction, is occasionally accessible: sometimes the door isn't locked. Another, not pictured here, is almost always accessible, since the door to the pool and fitness area is not well fitted, and usually sticks open. One of these is inaccessible without "social engineering," though all I had to do was knock and the attendant let me in. (He also had to let me into the change room.) I didn't give him any explanation, just smiled and thanked him -- though I did have a hotel towel over my shoulder.

As a bonus, here is a picture of a downtown hotel roof (quite accessible):