The Chechorra river and the story of Mr. G 1

These disputable photos are equipped with the story about a comrade, G…

One cold winter evening, six explorers went downstream. We had some beers and other mood-modifying things.


We walked far enough downstream, stopping every now and then to take photos, when Thunder cried “WAVE! WAVE!”

The WAVE is what happens the sudden raise of water level in case of rain. The current increases, the wind rises, all small pipes start bombarding the tunnel walls with water. The water level starts raising even more, ending in total apocalypse.

There were no known manholes downstream those days, the nearest one was the one we came in through a couple of hours ago. Where can we go?!

Only it was fucking winter, some warm -2 outside. It fucking does not rain in winter!


It took us a while to understand that we’re just a little drunk or high.

Before the knowledge of our disillusion has reached our minds, we searched for an exit. It was a drain grate at the edge of a road. The outlet to the drain tunnel was at about half the hight of the three-meter slippery tunnel of the drain. We pushed our comrade G. up and he investigated the situation on the surface. It was still winter and not raining.


We were all kind of tired and hungry by that time, but one was more motivated than others. Then we reached a spot near the end where the water level was higher than our waders, we found out that we are only five. Where is G.?

“Six G…es ran through Chechorra with strive
One got stuck in a manhole, and out came only five”
(my rough translation of later epic tales on the event)


We found G. back up under the same manhole. How the hell did he get up himself? He said that he hurt his leg some hundred meters from this place and can’t go back up to the exit.

“The drain grate is on the road… So I’ll wait for you here while you go up to the exit and help me get out safely”


(one of the remarkable illustrations on the walls by das_es)

All the way up and back to the drain grate above ground took us more than two hours. It was past metro closing time.

We opened the damn grate, and G. was already attempting to get out. It wasn’t much of a problem, but he couldn’t.
Just then a cop car stopped right in front of us.
G. got some “help” from two policemen (smudged photo below).


The policemen didn’t arrest us, but it was close. They were kind of friendly or didn’t want to arrest six dirty hobos.

We were free, and G. happily ran towards a kebab stall, forgetting his supposedly damaged leg.

The police car:


The tale of G. became a local legend and a great bad example to the growing youth. Mentioned in a couple of songs and numerous posts in the web.
G. was more and more exploring the pancake cafe and was never again seen in a drain.


Well and if you’re interested in Moscow drains, check out the full post – Moscow drains & rivers: General information