CCC Journal V2 No.5

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www.cheddar-caving-club.org.ukAugust 2011Volume 2 - No. 5

IN THIS ISSUE...

CAVING IN ICELANDSPANISH SPORT CLIMBINGTITAN - CAN I DO IT?

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4 The Trip List, August - December 2011 A list of club trips over the next five months

6 Into the Icelandic Troll’s Lair Brendan Hanley Brendan’s adventures in Iceland

12 Costa Blanca Martin Lee Sport Climbing Spanish style

16 Cave Decoration Barry Hulatt But what does it mean and why did they do it?

20 Can I do it? Judy Durber Judy tackles Titan

22 The Gallery

COMMITTEE MEMBERS

President/Training Officer Chris Castle tel 01749 344870 mob 07870 782701 e-mail [email protected]

Secretary Keith Milward tel 01454 418196 mob 07809 123580 e-mail [email protected]

Membership Secretary Brendan Hanley tel 0117 9850338 mob 07968 650203 e-mail [email protected]

New Member Coordinator Sam Denning Kendall tel 01934 740390 mob 07751 734093 e-mail [email protected]

Treasurer Tricia Denning Kendall tel 01934 740390 e-mail [email protected]

Webmaster Anna Peters tel 01454 418196 mob 07841 875 218 e-mail [email protected]

Chairman Andy Sparrow tel 01934 744824 mob 07989 620540 e-mail [email protected]

Equipment Officer Ian Burton (Burt) tel 01934 844254 mob 07976 315121 e-mail [email protected]

Journal Editor Martin Lee tel 01373 455145 mob 07778 513419 e-mail [email protected]

Trip info & equipment hire Andy & Rachel Sparrow tel 01934 744824 mob 07989 620540 e-mail [email protected]

Cover Image: Phil Hendy leads CCC members around Shatter Cave.

CONTENTS

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CLUB MEETINGS Club meetings will be held every third Sunday of the month at the Kings Head, Cheddar, either in the lounge bar or the functions room, starting at 8pm. All members are welcome.

THE MEETS LIST We aim to run three fixed-venue trips every month and typically these will include a fairly simple evening trip (about 2 hours), an intermediate trip (about 4 hours) and an off-Mendip trip (various durations). These trips are described in the meets list (overleaf) and each is assigned a leader or organiser.

EQUIPMENT The following items are available to borrow from the equipment officer, Ian Burton 6 Kenmeade Close, Shipham, BS25 1TS T: 01934 844254 M: 07976 315121

Please give Burt as much notice as possible as the kit is not stored at this address!

3 Over suits XL, L, M, 2 Spelio lights & Batteries, 2 Spelio chargers, 2 Duo lights, 2 Spelios light & helmet combos, 1 Rope 60m, 1 Rope 45m, 1 Rope 25m, 1 Rope 12m, 1 Kit bag L, 2 Ladders 10m, 2 spreaders, 5 carabiners, 3 Slings 1m, 1 SRT kit, 1 Drill, 1 Shetland attack pony surveying tool, 4 Boiler suits, 3 pairs of knee pads.

Kit is free to borrow with the exception of lights and ropes; a £1 (or more at your discretion!) charge to cover replacement and repairs. Lights will be supplied partially charged so you should make sure they are fresh before use. The more modern lights require 4xAA batteries per unit, which are not supplied.

WEDNESDAY NIGHTS There is usually a caving trip on a Wednesday night. Some of these are scheduled in the meets list but others are arranged at short notice between club members and then communicated by e-mail to the rest of the club.

THE BLACKDOWN CAVES PROJECT The objective of the project is to extend and connect the group of caves on the western side of Burrington Combe. The project involves cave digging, surveying, aven climbing, squeeze pushing and hopefully the discovery of previously unknown passages.

THE WEBSITE www.cheddar-caving-club.org.uk

THE CLUB FORUM ON UKCAVING.COM We have a forum within ukcaving.com where we keep an online logbook and discuss various topics from the topical to the frivolous. This is a public access forum which can be read by anyone, we are able to moderate contributions to our own area.

http://ukcaving.com/board/index.php/board,35.0.html

GOOGLE GROUPS Google groups provides us with a private forum which can only be accessed by our own membership. We keep a log of the Blackdown Caves Project activities here and various other pages of interest. New members will be invited to join the group.

CLUB LIBRARY Books can be borrowed from the club library which is kept at Steve Pointon’s house. Please contact Steve well in advance if you wish to view or borrow any books. Contact Steve or Karen on: T: 01934 744824 M: 07880 587244 e-mail: [email protected].

CLUB INFO

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Wed 14th“A” fairy cave TBC

Leader to be booked

Thurs 22nd (Day)Aggie

Contact Andy S & Chris C

Staying overnight on Wed at The Chelsea Hut

Fri 23rd - Sun 25th HIDDEN EARTH

Monmouth - Campsite at the venue

www.hidden-earth.org.uk

Wed 28thManor Farm

Contact Rachel & Nicki

October Sun 2ndSwildons Round trip

Contact Keith

Sat 8thUpper Flood

Contact Ed

Wed 12thDrunkards Hole

Contact Rachel & Trish

Wed 26thSt. Cuthberts

Contact Rachel & Trish

THE TRIP LIST August - December 2011

August Wed 17thSwildon’s Hole

Contact Chris & Nicki

Fri 19thSRT rescue practice at caveclimb

Contact Chris C

Sun 21stThrupe Lane rigging Atlas pot (SRT required)

Contact Andy S

Tues 30thShute Shelf

Contact Tricia

Wed 31st (TBC)Wigmore

Contact Chris & Nicki

September Tues 6thRedcliffe Caves

Contact Trish

Sat 10thLongwood

Contact Andy P

Sat 10thMiss Grace’s Lane

Contact Chris C

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THE TRIP LIST August - December 2011

November

Wed 9thNew Bath to Rods Round trip

Contact Andy S & Rachel

Sun 13thOFD Exchange Trip

Contact Andy P and Ken P (possibly)

Sat 19thAGM AND CURRY

For every member to attend

Wed 23rdG.B. Cave

Contact TBC

DecemberSat 3rdRhino Rift (SRT required)

Contact Cookie

Wed 14thGoatchurch

Contact Brendan

Sun 18thSwildon’s Hole

Contact Brendan

Wed 9th Nov - Bath to Rods

Wed 14th Sept - A Fairy Cave Quarry Trip TBC

Wed 14th Dec - Goatchurch

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INTO THE ICELANDIC TROLL’S LAIRBrendan Hanley

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My companion and I had see most of the better-known sights, and strolled up and down the trendy streets of Reykjavík during the broad daylight late evenings, and we were looking for something else to do that didn’t involve freezing our butts off in an Atlantic gale hoping to see a whale, or shattering the desolate peace of a glacier by racing across it in a souped-up Land Rover. My attention was caught by the leaflet of one enterprising tour guide who was offering caving trips, and I managed to persuade my beautiful Turkish companion, previously a stranger to the underground environment and an active frowner-upon of my caving activities in the Mendips, to accompany me. We booked our place and waited until the appointed day.

The cave leader climbed elegantly down from her Land Rover and strode confidently towards me. She was at least six feet tall, and her fine wild blond hair was blowing in the fresh Atlantic sea breeze about her handsome ruddy Viking face. She was wearing a traditional Icelandic pullover in stony grey with black and white detailing, a sporty blue mini skirt, and chunky boots. A cute little shoulder bag hung near her womanly hips, and her long bare legs were well-toned and magnificent.

“Hi, I’m Freyja. You must be Brendan. I’ve seen your trip write-ups reports on the UK Caving Forum: you’re a really experienced caver and your club is awesome. It’s good to meet you.” She spoke precisely and fluently, with a gentle Icelandic lilt. The timbre of her speech suggested a fine singing voice. I was surprised and flattered that she knew who I was.

“Thanks”, I replied, lamely.

“Perhaps you can take me on a caving trip in the Mendips one day.”

I found the prospect of leading this athletic amazon, this Norse goddess, into Swildon’s Hole utterly thrilling, but just then the alarm clock sounded, and my dream came to a shuddering halt.

Around half past nine the real cave leader, a bloke, arrived in his minibus, with the with the other intrepid tourists, all non-cavers, already on board. My companion and I climbed in, and we and headed off along the national ring road towards Selfoss, where there had been a earthquake a few weeks earlier. As we drew near the young volcanic mountain range Bláfjöll (Blue Mountains), the guide pointed out a miniature airfield used by modelling enthusiasts: it had a runway painted with proper markings, including two-digit magnetic bearings at either end. We turned off the ring road onto the Grindavík road, and trundled along a rougher road across a lava field for a mile or two, then stopped at what seemed to me to be a totally undistinguished point just like the rest of the roadside.

The lava field had been formed of runny pahoehoe lava which had then become overgrown. The term “pahoehoe” is Hawaiian and means “ropy”, referring to the rope-like structures that low-viscosity lava develops as it flows and cools, although the lave in this field had a bit more viscous than the Hawaiian variety, and the structures of the crystallised rock were a bit more blocky as a result. Such lava fields present several dangers, especially overgrown invisible holes caused by gas bubbles which burst when the lava was still liquid: many of them are big enough to cause a nasty fall. The guide warned us to stay on

During July 2008 I was in Reykjavík to see the sights of the south west of Iceland such as the eponymous Geysir and its more active neighbour Strokkur, the mid-Atlantic Rift

between the North American and Eurasian tectonic plates, where you can actually touch the plate boundaries, and the open-air naturally-heated Bláa Lónið (Blue Lagoon), which is great for lounging around in and ending up like a relaxed sulphurous prune.

the footpath and not to wander off. Icelanders do not say very much, so when they do, it tends to have a quiet authority about it: we nodded and obeyed.

Iceland is unusual in having both runny low-silicate pahoehoe lava and thick viscous high-silicate aa lava, sometimes even in the same lava field (such as at Bláa Lónið) – the more usual pattern worldwide is for a geologically distinct area to have one or the other. Some particularly hard spiky aa lava in Iceland is known as illt hraunið (“evil lava”) because it is so difficult to make a path or road across, or build on, and next-to-impossible to turn into productive land.

At the cave entrance the guide gave us a little talk about the general layout of the cave, what we would see there, and how long we would be underground. It was to be a through trip for those who wanted it, so he showed us where the exit was. He told us that there was a skeleton in the cave almost at the end and that when we had seen us he would ask us to identify it; I wondered if it was the earthly remains of Lord Lucan.

We were kitted out with bright orange cotton suits, lights and helmets, but no kneepads, which was unfortunate; my companion looked very fetching in her outfit. We switched on our lights and ventured in, down a gentle decline to the base level of the cave; no part of this cave was more than about ten feet below the surface. As I was the only caver in the group apart from the guide, I hung back so that there was no non-caver in the potentially scary rearmost position, as I had learned on club trips.

The main passageway consisted of a long straight tube with a flat floor, the walls and roof forming part of a continuous circular curve; the tube was about seven feet high and about fifteen feet wide, so the floor was more than half way up the height (vertical diameter) of the tube. In general, lava tubes have a more fully circular cross section, but I did not think to ask the guide why this one had a flat floor – my guess now is that it was because the surrounding land is so flat that

some of the liquid lava did not drain way, but crystallised in situ. It was a rich dark maroon colour inside, whereas the surface rocks had weathered to grey. There seemed to be no side passages, and the walls and floor were devoid of crevices, nooks or crannies. The cave was exceptionally clean: not only was there no mud nor dust, there were no pebbles, cobbles, or boulders, except for the pile of strange laminar boulders further in. There were large patches of brightly-coloured mineral deposits from volcanic processes, and I was surprised to see some deposits of calcite from low-temperature aqueous processes like in the Mendips – these were all on the ceiling, caused by the action of rainwater which had percolated through the thin rocks and even thinner soil above.

“NEI, NOT A TROLL.” WAS THAT A FLICKER OF A SMILE ON HIS MAGISTERIAL COUNTENANCE?There were two particularly interesting features. The first was on the floor: thousands of little pinnacles, each about a quarter to half an inch high, formed when liquid lava had dripped off the roof, landed on the floor, and cooled below its melting point without being able to flow away from the point of impact. The second was on the more vertical parts of the walls: horizontal tubular structures where secondary flows of lava had peeled away from the original tube walls and rolled up, then crystallized still stuck to the wall – it was weird to see solid rock in sheets several centimetres thick rolled up as if some colossal force had rolled it while cold, but of course it had been rolled slowly by gravity while still a little above its melting point. Sorry, but I do not have any pictures of this.

All of us managed to negotiate the pile of boulders, passing close to the ceiling as we did so, then it was our chance to come face-to-face with a real live skeleton. The guide looked solemn and asked us to say what we

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thought it was. As you have probably already guessed, it was a sheep’s skeleton, but that didn’t stop some of us from offering less obvious suggestions.

“Dinosaur!” said one.

“Nei. Like I told you already, Iceland is less than 65 million years old, and dinosaurs were extinct 100 million years before that.”

“A man?”

“Nei, not a man. Look at the jaw. It is not the jaw of a meat-eater.”

Was he exasperated? It was difficult to tell: Icelanders do not wear their hearts on their sleeves, to be sure.

“Elk.” offered another.

“Nei,” he said again. Like a patient school master, he explained: “There are no elks in Iceland, only in Norway and so on.”

“Bear?”

“Nei.” There are no bears in Iceland, either. He rolled his eyes.

“Troll”, I said. Icelandic trolls are much bigger than the Norwegian ones that have entered English folklore, probably too big to fit into the cave, but it was worth a try. One of these notoriously dim-witted creatures might have taken refuge underground from Thor’s thunderbolts, and got lost. I wasn’t sure it they were meat-eaters or just particularly violent herbivores, but the high risk of being shown up as a total ignoramus in the field of Norse folkloric nutrition was worth it for the slim chance that it might actually have been a troll’s skeleton, in which case I would have won the plaudits of everyone there, especially my beautiful Turkish companion, and I might have won a book token, or a bottle of weak Icelandic ale, or perhaps a herring.

“Nei, not a troll.” Was that a flicker of a smile on his magisterial countenance?

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Lava tube mineral deposit

Lava tube ceiling Lava tube laminar rocks Lava tube mineral deposit

“I’M A REGULAR CAVER. DOES ANYONE FANCY

EXPLORING OFF TO THE LEFT WITH ME?”

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Wanting to end the pantomime, I said,

“Sheep. It’s a sheep.”

He smiled.

“Já, a sheep.”

We stared reverently at the remains of the unfortunate ruminant, a victim of the hidden holes above, and thanked the Fates that it was not us lying there being mistaken for a dinosaur or a troll.

Those who did not fancy the lower-roofed passages ahead made their way back to the surface the way we had come in, and the rest of us pressed on with the through trip. The passage from there on was too low for us to stand upright, and we had to crawl on hands and knees for much of the rest of the way. This is where knee pads would have come into their own, as the little pinnacles of dropped crystallised lava caused agonies. The passage split, with the exit to the right, but I was keen to explore to the left where there was a long wide crawl with the roof gradually descending into the distance.

I have always admired good oratory, and in my teens fancied myself as barrister (when I had reluctantly given up fancying myself as an astronaut), revelling in the drama of the court and the power of well-delivered words to change the course of events. Even away from the heady atmosphere of a knife-edge cross examination or an all-conquering summing-up, there are phrases that open doors, inspire confidence, or strike awe and confidence, and change the outcome of things – I am thinking of expressions like “Let me through, I’m a doctor.” and “This is your captain speaking.”. The expression I used that fine July day to inspire confidence and strike awe was…

“I’m a regular caver. Does anyone fancy exploring off to the left with me?”

It worked! A woman from Sheffield was prepared to risk her life, and life of her teenage son, on my bold claim. I checked with the guide that he was OK with the three of

us going off on our own, then off we went. It was painful, what with the little lava-drop pinnacles determined to goad our knees at every move, but we advanced for about twenty yards until the combination of the low headroom and the spikes on the floor proved too much. We took a good look round, but to be honest, there was not much to see: just loads of maroon rock converging in the middle distance. Satisfied with our excursion, we headed back to the surface to join the others.

There was no welcoming smell of soil at we neared the exit: this is probably because the soils on recent lava fields are very thin and poor, and not rich and earthy like most soils on the Mendips.

The whole trip lasted only about forty minutes, and it was very expensive compared with going on a club trip, but it was good experience. I did not win a book token, nor a bottle of feeble Icelandic beer, nor a glassy-eyed herring, but I got to see some interesting formations, I helped two Yorkshire folk to have a better adventure than they otherwise would have had, and I persuaded my beautiful Turkish companion to dress up in caving gear and join me underground.

By the standards of some Icelandic caving trips on offer, even to tourists, the trip I went on was pretty tame: it was easier than a typical novices’ trip to Goatchurch Cavern, for example. However, there are much harder and more adventurous trips in lava tubes, and wonderful trips inside glaciers where features of eerie transparent beauty transfix anyone who sees them.

And what of the troll? When I looked at the map to check the spellings of the place names, I saw that near Bláfjöll there is range of low hills called Trölldyngja, so perhaps that is where the troll’s lair is to be found.

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COSTA BLANCA Sport Climbing in Spain Martin Lee

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November 2010 was a cold and wet month in the UK, not much good for rock climbing! Luckily we had booked a two week holiday in

Spain, sport climbing in Costa Blanca. Helen and I flew out to Alicante and were joined by friends a week later. I had read a lot about the area and was really looking forward to checking it out.

As our plane neared the runway I was amazed at how dry the area looked from above, having been in drizzly Bristol only a couple of hours earlier. The Costa Blanca enjoys very mild winters, which is one of the reasons it is so popular with British climbers. Temperatures in the twenties are not uncommon during the winter months.

On arrival it was soon apparent I would not be needing my down jacket which had seemed perfect for the climate I had just left. After settling in we were keen to find our nearest crag and start ticking off Spanish routes from our trusty Rockfax guide book.

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“THE ONLY DOWN SIDE WAS A LARGE AND VERY ACTIVE BEES NEST WHICH PREVENTED US FROM CLIMBING...

“

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Luckily our accomodation was slap bang in the middle of some great climbing areas. Just a short drive away was a crag called Alcalali. Here we found a range of sport climbs with grades from 3+ right up to 7b+. It was a good job I’d packed my 60m rope as several of the single pitch routes here are almost 30m high! An enjoyable day was spent getting to grips with the sharp Spanish limestone, it was instantly clear why this area has such a good reputation. The rock seemed almost made to be climbed on, it’s surface littered with flakes, pockets and tufas. Thankfully the grading of the routes was not too far off what we were used to back in the UK, and we managed to climb several routes including a 14m 3+ and 26m 4+ with no problems at all.

The next day we were looking for a bit more of a challenge so drove a bit further north to a crag called Gandia. I had spotted in the guide book that this cliff had a route that included a small cave section. The book described ‘Pequeno saltamontes; An odd route up the hole that blends climbing and caving’. As soon as I noticed the route I knew it was a ‘must do’ for the trip, and also a perfect excuse to include this article in the CCC journal. The line proved to be great fun and at French grade 5 posed no great threat to either of us. The images opposite show me climbing the route. Helen is pointing out the entrance to the cave section, which is a bit like exiting the Lobster Pot in Sidcot Swallet, but with better foot holds and more room! You can see by my position how over hanging the crag is. There are some really difficult climbs in this part of Spain with grades up to F8a. The surrounding orange groves really add to the stunning views and aromatic scents. We enjoyed Gandia so much that we took our friends back there when they joined us for the second week of our trip. The only down side was a large and very active bees nest which prevented us from climbing ‘Chitiri, Chitiri’ a 22m 4+ we had our eyes on!

I noticed several signs for tourist caves in the area we were staying but did not have a chance to take a look. I can only imagine that they are equally as spectacular as the

limestone above ground and no doubt even more beautiful.

Perhaps some of the hardest climbing we did during the trip was at a crag called Montesa. The rock here is a sandy limestone, which was slightly polished in some areas. The main image on the first pages of this article shows Helen climbing at Montesa, the route shown is a grade F4, 12m pitch with an interesting overhang but plenty of big juggy holds. We also managed to struggle up a 16m 6a called ‘Forta dos’ which was a steep and technical route which required a lot of determination.

All in all we had a fantastic time in Spain and look forward to returning again this Autumn. This time we will be doing an improvers course run by British pro climber Gaz Parry. He runs Epic Adventures and is based in Costa Blanca. The plan is to improve our technique and to try some multi-pitch routes under the guidance of Gaz, can’t wait!

If you are interested in visiting Costa Blanca to try the amazing sport climbing over there I can highly reccommend the Rockfax guide book which has an advert for the accomodation we stayed in. Asmoladora is a great place to base yourself and is at the centre of much of the climbing.

finca-la-asmoladora.com epic-adventures.eu rockfax.com

S P A I N

Madrid

Mallorca

Alicante

Costa Blanca

PORTUGAL

F R A N C E

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The illustration accompanying this article forms part of a piece of my own ‘cave art’. Those of you who know me will be aware of my liking for collecting objects and illustrations related to caves and caving. This painting is a collage of cave decorations collected from around the world. Some of the parts will generally be recognised as ancient cave art; others would usually be dismissed as graffiti. Yet who is to decide what constitutes ‘art’ and what is to be regarded as vandalism? We may value the Chauvet horses or the Cresswell engravings, but hypothetical future researchers may be equally intrigued by our own scratchings on the cave wall. Who are we to censor what is left to posterity?

I’m not, by the way, advocating that we deliberately deface caves or overlay the works of our ancestors. That, however, is exactly what the ancient artists did to the illustrations which they found already existing in their caves. Just like a modern painter might re-use an old canvas, it appears that many of the cave surfaces were worked and re-worked by successive

generations and cultures. The earlier images may have lost their effect, or perhaps it was the act of producing the images which held significance, not just the existence of the images themselves.

Looking at the illustration you will be fairly sure that you ‘understand’ some of the images. Homer Simpson, the Nazi symbol, the dates and signatures in our own numbering and writing systems, are to an extent shared by members of our current culture. Yet there are other alphabets and other languages, both visual and verbal, in this collage which you will not be so confident in interpreting. Even the 20th and 21st century offerings are dependent on our sharing of alphabets or sign systems with the original creators. Some of you may pick up on the German joke or the French philosophy; few of us (in this club, I guess) will understand the Japanese graffiti or the full impact of the theory of relativity.

When we start to go back in time the shared experience becomes even more of a problem. I signed my name on this

CAVE DECORATION Part 1, Barry Hulatt

But what does it mean, and why did they do it? These are the obvious questions when looking at cave and rock art from the past. Some of the artefacts seem to make sense, and if they don’t we can always ascribe them to ‘ritual’. (See Chris Castle’s observations on this subject in the April 2009 journal).

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painting both in Norse runes and by writing from right to left rather than left to right. This goes against our current conventions, and requires recognition that not everybody did things in our way. It comments on the fact that, just because we share a common humanity, we cannot assume that we can ‘interpret’ the texts and images of ancient peoples. For example, when looking at the images of the hands (found worldwide and from many different ages and cultures) it is often said that the ‘missing fingers’ indicate that they had been chopped off or lost in some way. It might equally be, however, that the hand was making a ‘hunting sign’, or a sign of peace, or whatever. All we can do is surmise.

And what about sex, you ask? What about the Sorcerer with the enormous equipment, or the vulvas flying freely through the darkness of the underworld in so many caves. Usually these are interpreted as fertility ritual, yet can we be sure they don’t just result from the fevered imaginations of dirty old men or children enjoying making ‘naughty pictures’?

“AND WHAT ABOUT SEX, YOU ASK? WHAT ABOUT THE SORCERER WITH THE ENORMOUS EQUIPMENT, OR THE VULVAS FLYING FREELY THROUGH THE DARKNESS OF THE UNDERWORLD IN SO MANY CAVES?

“

EXHIBITION OF CAVE RELATED ART BUXTON MUSEUM From 20th August to 29th October 2011

If you are in the Derbyshire area please come along - it includes work by some people you know, and work from other parts of the country and abroad. Anyone particularly interested could come as a special guest to the private viewing on the first day - contact me a.s.a.p. by e-mail for an invitation.

I have also provisionally organised Derbyshire caving trips for Sunday 21st August and/or 26-28th August. These would be SRT trips and my friend Pete Martin, who knows the area well, has agreed to lead us.

So, to my initial question ‘what does it mean?’ I’ve got to say that we can never be certain; we have not walked in the artists’ footprints. We can try reading the images and symbols, but mustn’t assume that we are right or that our opinions won’t change. Other readers are certain to have different interpretations, perhaps equally valid.

And as to ‘why did they do it?’ – I’m sure anyone who has used a spray can or drawn a picture or written a diary could help us with that one.

Barry Hulatt 2011(or was that ttaluh yrrab MMX1?)

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2020

CAN I DO IT?Judy Durber

Eventually a familiar face came through the door happy to see me but had forgotten the invite from weeks before. Was it going to be a waste of time? I was introduced to all ... and there was a tentative YES.

The morning brought the normal faff, bacon, eggs, big baps from the bakery. I remembered to make sandwiches and we all piled into a van. It was big party now as some-one else had turned up and asked to join us, some-one with a lot more experience than me. I thought of offering to drop out but ‘held my tongue.’ We wound up the hill and off onto a gravel track. I realised I had been there before, walking, not noticing the hump above me. The entrance is chilly, right on the top with no protection except the lid

from the inclement weather. While waiting I asked about the entrance, ‘a short drop into a passage.’ Well 45 metres is a bit more than a short drop. It was good to be on my way but the realisation of what lay ahead started to dawn. The adrenaline started flowing, I got off the first pitch, ducked down into the tunnel, bent over and waded through the inevitable LARGE puddle and discovered my welly had a hole in it. Yuk. The tunnel is curved so you cannot see the end. My stomach had flip flopped several times, my legs felt like jelly. Would I have any strength when the adrenaline drained away? Would I be able to step off the edge? How much do you see? We chatted and joked nervously as two before me got onto the rope. Then it was my turn, cows-tails, thread the bobbin, test, lock off. There was no use looking

T here was a suggestion, a one line hint that if I was in the right place at a certain time then MAYBE I could be included on the trip. So on a Friday night I battled with

the traffic to find an empty hut. My friend could have been at anyone of the 6 pubs so I sat it out with a cup of tea & cake until a young group came in. They were happy to include me in their chat of the next day’s caving.

“TAKE OFF THE COWS-TAILS, BIG BREATH, UNLOCK AND GO

“

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down, all there was was a big blackness even with my light on full, just a big black nothing, nothing but a big hole. Take off the cows-tails, big breath, unlock and go. Oh my @&*@@ I was IN TITAN!

Concentrate, the top disappeared quickly, I let the rope out slowly. THE ROPE! I was dangling off one 10 mm rope above a bloody big drop! I forced myself to look around, that was why I was here, to see it, to experience it. I could make out flows of calcite, the rock is not smooth, it juts out and then in, it changes lots different colours. Then I was on hard ground, phew. The Event Horizon, a bit of relief. It is a shelf of some considerable size. Some-one had waited to take photos and make sure we changed over okay. I had done the next 71 metres, 45 to go. The stomach had settled a little. Concentrate on the change over, thread the

bobbin, test, lock off, lean back, cows-tails off, unlock & off again. More terror, I could not get my mind off the rope, dangling in mid air, it is there in front of your nose. I felt like screaming, that awful terror when you just want to empty your lungs, let go and just scream and scream. I could smell the rope as it went through the simple; I was descending faster as the rope got heavier. No, concentrate, slow, slow, look around. I am not coming back again. Why did I ever want to do it? Why did I get on the rope? Mad, completely stupid to think I could do this. More beautiful flow stone. I try and make out the far wall, look down, there are lights, small dots below me. I shout in this awesome space. The sound of BIG echoes back. I pause, I can enjoy it, I force myself to smile. The lights are almost invisible above me, droplets of water rain over me from somewhere above. Then I am down, safe, I have done it! Wooo hoo, wow, fab. Now I could relax on my wobbly legs, watch the others as they descended, their lights making eerie shadows, but none really touching the sides.

There are big grins all round, chocolate and nuts, but no big celebration for we now had to get out and THAT took another 7 hours!

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The GalleryThe photographs below were taken by various members of the club. Send your photos for future editions to [email protected].

Shatter Cave The Leaning Tower of Pisa, Shatter Cave

Shatter Cave

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Admiring The Cathedral, Box Mine

Crane in Box Mine

Various tools etc in Box Mine

The next edition of the journal is planned for publication in January (2012).

We are always very grateful for material our members provide for inclusion.

If you have any Cheddar Caving Club related articles, pictures or information you would like to submit, please contact the journal editor/designer - Martin Lee.

e: [email protected] m: 07778 513419

Happy Caving!

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© Cheddar Caving Club 2011

No part of this journal to be reproduced without the permission of Cheddar Caving Club. P

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