Raising Hell

Underground tunnels, motorway bridges and telephone boxes

We were halfway up a hill in Buckinghamshire near High Wycombe, in the unexpected intense heat, climbing through a steep meadow. After a steep walk we emerged from the green and above us rose the flinty face of a vast mausoleum, the glinting dome of a church behind. But after a steep and slightly grumpy climb, thanks to a lack of signposts, we began a reluctant descent, through what suddenly became scrub and bushes. A sharp turn and there it was, a grand stone entrance built into the hillside itself, surrounded by tables with sun brollies, and tired looking people in shorts and summer dresses taking a breather. This was the grand entrance to a network of man-made tunnels: the Hellfire Caves. It’s a slightly absurd spot to be the HQ of Georgian debauchery, but then who would have that any other way?