On August 1, 2025, at “Strilka” Park—a popular recreational spot for Kharkiv residents—sinkholes opened up into ancient “catacombs” as a result of cleanup efforts following a hurricane (as noted by the city council). In photos of the sinkholes, red-brick arches and metal beams could be seen.

But are these really catacombs? Let’s try to get to the bottom of this and debunk the myths with the help of researchers from Kharkiv.

It is worth noting that the confluence of the Kharkiv and Lopan Rivers, located where the modern “Strilka” park stands today, was highly unstable in terms of hydrology and topography during the 17th and 18th centuries; therefore, the assumption that there are catacombs dating back to the founding of Kharkiv is most likely incorrect. At the time of Kharkiv’s founding, this area was sandy, and the main confluence of the Kharkiv and Lopan Rivers was further north, near what is now Pavlivskyi Square. Around 1710, a mill dam was built on the Kharkiv River, causing its main channel to shift downstream (to its current location).

However, the Kharkiv River’s channel at its former confluence with the Lopan did not disappear entirely; it simply became shallow. As a result, the “Strelka” area became an island, where people began to settle in the 1720s, and by the 1742 map, it already appeared to be built up. Military settlers, merchants, tar makers, and blacksmiths settled there.

On the 1783 map of Kharkiv, another shallow area can be seen further west, where a second, marshy “island” had formed. The old riverbed is already marked as insignificant (it could be forded), but it is still shown on the map.

Between 1799 and 1801, the old riverbed at “Strilka” (as it was called, the “old channel” or “First Netech,” not to be confused with the Netech on Moskalivka) was filled in—this section finally took on its modern appearance.

In 1830, construction began on a stone bathhouse for the nobility on the “Strilka”—it had convenient access to water. Throughout the 19th century, the number of bathhouses grew—people not only bathed there but also washed their clothes. On the maps from 1875 and 1887, you can see Fokin’s bathhouses (three-class facilities for different social classes, located near the modern monument to the Apostle Andrew) and Sergeev’s bathhouses (for less affluent townspeople, facing Konny Lane).

In 1894, Konny Lane was renamed Banny Lane.

In the press of the 1900s, Banny Lane most often appeared in crime reports—due to its heavy foot traffic, the area attracted prostitutes and pickpockets who robbed bathhouse clients. In 1911, the new Vanifatov Baths, complete with hotel rooms (“numbers”), opened on the lane; advertisements for them can be found in print until the fall of 1919, when Denikin’s White Army ruled Kharkiv.

In the early 20th century, the first park was laid out at the tip of the “Strilka,” and it was renovated in the early 1930s. At that time, work was carried out to “tame” the rivers of Kharkiv, which frequently overflowed their banks. In 1934, the Goncharyvska Dam was built, and the slopes of the embankments in the city center were paved with granite. The work was carried out under the direction of Petro Krupko, Kharkiv’s chief architect for urban development.

In February–March 1943, the bathhouse complex was severely damaged by artillery fire during the Second Battle of Kharkiv.

However, some of the bathhouses survived and continued to operate as a bathhouse-and-laundry complex. Below are the recollections of Abram Korman, dating from around 1947:

I still remember that alley, the bathhouse (which is why it’s called “Banny”) with its wide staircase, huge halls (everything seemed enormous when I was a child), marble benches, and niches and pedestals whose purpose I couldn’t fathom. That’s where they washed me, a five-year-old; that’s also where I first saw a bathhouse attendant—a burly man in a loincloth with an iron grip. He handled the client’s body without ceremony; the procedure was like torture.

However, local authorities gradually demolished the ruins of the complex along with the surviving buildings under the pretext of combating mold.

The last four-story bathhouse building, which faced Banny Lane, was demolished in January 1964.

Thus, Banny Lane was left without bathhouses, but the name remained on the map of Kharkiv, as did the cellars and foundations of these 19th-century bathhouses, which resurfaced in 2025.

In the 1990s, Strelka Square fell into disrepair; people recall falling into those basements even back then.

Members of informal subcultures (such as Tolkien fans and metalheads) often gathered in the park. Large sections of the fence had fallen down, and the old suspension bridge had become unsafe.

Between 2008 and 2010, the park underwent a major renovation. The suspension bridge connecting “Strelka” to the Netchenskaya Embankment was replaced with a new one modeled after Amsterdam’s Erasmus Bridge.

Two boat rental stations that had existed as far back as the 1930s were restored, and in 2013, a monument to the Apostle Andrew was unveiled in the park.

Any account of the lost “Strelka” development would be incomplete without details about the neighboring blocks—from Banny Lane to Universitetskaya Street. They, too, were densely built up, and this development was also lost—but not as a result of the WWII.

In this early 20th-century photo, you can see the tram line in Torgovy Lane, of which only a faint trace remains in the form of an inner-block road between two enormous “waterfront buildings.” In the 19th century, this lane was also known as Degtyarnaya Street, and later as Tsyganskaya Street.

In 1959, Torgovy Lane became a dead end on the side facing what is now Pavlovskaya Square, when the “old” House on the Embankment (Pavlivskyi Square, 2, designed by architects A. Krikin, P. Areshkin, B. Klein, and N. Furmanova) was completed.

It was intended to be the architectural centerpiece of the surrounding neighborhoods, thanks to its tall corner tower with a spire.

However, due to the well-known decree on combating “architectural excesses” (1955), the design was simplified. The eight-story building was left without any decorative elements, and of the spire-topped tower that was never built, only the corner section remained, appearing to stand slightly apart from the main body of the building.

However, the neighborhood’s historic buildings can still be seen in a satellite image from 1965.

In the years that followed, these buildings were demolished; a satellite image from 2000 shows only vacant lots and garages.

In 2010, the block was completed with the “new” “House on the Embankment” (designed by the architectural firm “Nais Project,” 2 Banny Lane). This is a luxury residential complex with varying building heights (10–18 stories).

It is possible that the basements and foundations of the old houses within the neighborhood have also survived and are waiting to be explored.