Witley Park (formerly Lea Park) has had many royal connections and dates back from before the Norman Conquest, when it was owned by Earl Godwin. Following the Norman conquest the grounds passed to Gilbert, son of Richer (Richerius) de Aquila. They passed through various branches of his family, then to the Earls of Pembroke, before reverting to the King before being given to Peter of Savoy in 1241.

The ownership since passed through many different and illustrious owners, including Kings, Queens, Earls, Lords and Baronets. In 1613 the manor was sold to Henry Bell of Rake, who settled it on his great-nephew Anthony Smith the younger. It stayed in the Smith family until it passed by marriage in 1763 to the Carteret Web family who eventually sold it to Mr Whitaker Wright in 1890. Considered a Midas-like figure in the 1890s he developed the large house at Witley Park and also ensured that its name would become infamous.

Wright was a colourful character who moved to America in 1866 aged 21 and made a fortune in mining. However he lost it all aged 31, returned to England in 1889 and promptly set to work creating a second fortune. He did this by using his mining knowledge to push a series of Australian and Canadian mining companies on the London market, and by the early 1890s, he was a millionaire again. As befits a man of such wealth he required a country estate so in 1890 he paid £250,000 (approx. £12m – 2006 value) for the Lea Park estate near Witley and the adjacent South Park Farm estate of the Earl of Derby. Eventually the financial dealings which had provided the funds for this grand building programme dramatically dried up with the collapse of Wright’s London and Globe Financial Corporation in December 1900. This collapse caused other companies in his group to fail, bankrupting many people.

A series of trials in 1904 culminated in his being sentenced to seven years imprisonment for fraud. After sentencing was allowed a private meeting with his lawyers, he gave his watch to one of them saying that “I will not need this where I am going” and after requesting a whisky and cigar, swallowed a cyanide apsule he had smuggled into court. Following Wright’s dramatic exit his estate was eventually sold off.

The folly was built at a cost of nearly £500,000 in total (approx. £24m – 2006 value) at a time when Britain’s millionaires were outdoing each other with ultimately pointless but noticeable towers on a hill some distance but with-in eyesight of their main residences. Follies served to signify wealth, eccentricity and character whereas most were visible the under-water rooms at Witley Park could only be seen from within, not only were they invisible they also served some purpose. How often Whitaker Wright and his pals popped down for a game of billiards and a look at his carp is unknown but it is it’s lack of visibility that makes this place ever the more intriguing.

The Underwater feature beneath the lake was listed in a publication about Victorian follies as an ‘underwater ballroom’, although generally accepted that it was a billiard/smoking room and a place for him to admire his carp.

This was certainly an explore I’ll never forget for many reasons. When I first found out that this place existed, I knew that I had to visit it. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple. This wasn’t a location where you could hop a fence or find an open door or window, it wasn’t even on dry land! From researching other reports, I found out that there was in fact an entrance on the side of the lake but this was well sealed and had been for many years, presumably to stop the likes of people like me from snooping about inside. I wasn’t going to let that little setback deter me! The only way to reach this would be to get across a stretch of water to a second entrance. An entrance that presumably the owner would assume people wouldn’t bother trying to access… WRONG!

Due to the complexities of gaining entry to a place like this, it kept getting put aside in favour of other “easier” locations. Eventually, after talking to some other fellow explorers, a plan was put into place to finally make an effort to go and see this place. Lucky we did because we found out that a short time afterwards due to some goons getting caught, it was sealed and alarmed. I haven’t seen any reports (bar one where they set the alarm off) since so assume it’s still on lockdown.

Fast forward a couple of weeks later and I find myself getting up at 3am to make the hour and a half drive to this place. I grab Markymark on the way and at 5am we find ourselves standing on a narrow road by some woods in the pitch dark. We meet up with fellow explorers SeveredFrequencies, LiamCH and DayOfTheDead and make our way through the woodland guided only by moonlight. We have to stay discreet, tales of a farmer who patrols the grounds on a quad bike with a shot gun put us on edge. We arrive at the waters edge, an eerie mist engulfing the lake, the water, motionless like a sheet of glass. Thankfully, Liam bought something that would help us reach our goal, a boat! We set our vessel up and climbed aboard hoping it would keep us and our expensive camera equipment afloat. After some dodgy driving and crashes with overhanging trees we eventually reached our goal.

I’ve never been inside anywhere quite like this, as the morning sun came over the horizon, it penetrated the murky water and illuminated the dome we stood in. Aware that we’d have to make our return journey without the cover of darkness, we finished up taking pictures and climbed back aboard the urbex ferry. We’d lost air, our boat was deflating, we had to make this quick if we wanted to get back dry. We all crossed our fingers in hope we wouldn’t be spotted as Liam crashed us into let more trees. We reached dry land and made a hasty exit with the biggest smiles on our faces knowing what we’d just achieved.

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