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We caught up with Yaz. He’s a really good climber. The following words and pictures are his…There are many names for what people think I do. There are different answers I give to different people. If it’s a little piggie I’ll probably tell them something as artfag hipster as possible to avoid escalted bullshit. For yourselves; I dunno, i’m a sneaky wrongun. The term explorer probably applies, but then that goes for everyone. Skaters, Writers, whatever. Everyone explores shit in their own little way.Why I go to these places? I don’t know. Ask any writer what the 3rd rail smells like. Or what the feeling is when you scale the side of some scaffolding with a dirty drop below you. It’s been ingrained in me as a todd. I remember first walking traintracks with my cousins when I was probably no more than 7 or 8. Those childhood feelings don’t really leave you too easily. I guess that is why all this has stemmed out of control.I used to live up North where we’d frequent a few circles in the graff scene. A lot of Urban Explorers have this trainspotter feel to them, and so I feel writers are more fun to hang out with – period. Fucken mischief makers. Writers are fun, we sent this one guy off the side of a building in a window cleaning basket so he could bomb this ridiculous plot. Other times we’ve thrown paint off rooftops with em, messed about with rail track detonators and paint filled extinguishers and basically all things wrong. I have a lot more respect for the types of fun that naughty writers have. I’ve had a little trouble with the law, arrested a few times and taken to court for this sort of shit. I was in Paris a couple years ago with a few friends. We’d tunnel ran off a station platform after a train pulled in to navigate some Raccords. It was pretty chill at first, I munched a cheese baguette and next thing we’re getting yelled at by 5 or so RATP guards with some mean looking doggies and some sort of automatic weaponry that I couldn’t see due to being placed facedown in the gangway next to the 3rd. The french piggies came and told us to fuck off back to the London Underground. They also dropped that if we were graffiti artists, they would have beaten us senseless, prison and fines. Not sure how much of that is legit, but we had to pay a €50 fine. We all laughed about that – the fine was a Tax well overdue for a couple weeks of jumping metro gates and stealing Abloy Keys ha ha ha.As for chases, there have been too many to even think about. Just last week I got chased out of a passenger train yard in west germany. I got caught throwing stones at the driver door, much to my amusment until he clocked me, at which point I pegged it. The chases are good, there is nothing better than thwarting a fat security guard trying to run after his shifts-worth of sleeping and wanking.I don’t really know what’s next. Most of the stuff I do is spontaneous to the area I’m currently in. There are a few big-arse bridges in Europe i’ve been wanting to climb. Whatever takes my fancy I guess. I’m not really into abandonned places, they’re good to find I suppose if there’s some sort of fuckery involved. The one good thing about abandoned places are that they’re perfect for corrupting girls minds in a totally seemingly innocent way. You know a girl is up for a yard / rooftop mission if she can deal with some peely wallpaper and the local herion addict. Most shit is dangerous to some degree, I’m sure many writers will experience the same shit that goes through my head after swinging wide legs over a live rail. I think the most dangerous climb i’ve done was up Manchester City stadium. The easiest way was up a set of structural support wires, two of em, each about 2 inch thick. Sometimes I use safety gear for a climb, but the stadium was one exception to the rule where using safety gear physically makes the climb more dangerous. At the highest point it was a 100 or so foot drop to concrete – that kinda shit me up a bit. Oh yeah, and down-climbing it backward sucked. Find him on Flickr, Twitter.