Alternative title: "Nailing the Giant's Hole"
After Tuesday's (Oct. 2nd) indoors caving orientation, (which resulted with the
instructor on the ground starts
panicking, and shouting, "F***, f***, f***!" as I was dangling 10 feet
in the air, improperly clipped in), I decided that, "Yes! I should definitely sign up for the caving trip this Sunday!" So I did just that, and now I have this story to tell you.
The e-mail informed me that there would only be 12 or so of us attending, which is a nice change of pace compared to the group of 35 of us at the polo GIAG. (GIAG, or "Give it a Go!" is a term describing the events hosted by the student societies to enable new students to try out their clubs for one day). The e-mail also informed us that we would get wet, and it was recommended to bring a change of clothes. I wear extra layers of warm clothes, as per recommendation, and I packed myself an extra pair of socks, assuming that "getting wet" would be akin to kayaking, or sitting in the front row at the aquarium. I also bought a pair of rubber gloves, as per recommendation.
I slept very poorly that night, because I've been in constant anxiety of missing my alarm. Before, I've set the alarm for the PM instead of AM with unpleasant results, and I certainly didn't want to miss this caving trip. When I left, I was concerned I was going to be late, but fortunately arrived at 8:45. I see a group gathering around Parkinson Steps, and judging by their outdoors gear assume its the group I'm looking for.
"Is this caving?"
"Yeah!"
I strike up a conversation with one young lady, who appears to be one of the organizers. She starts talking about which peak were going to, which signals a few red flags in my head, which I justify be thinking, "Well, there are caves in mountains". But, as more and more people showed up, I quickly realized that this was not the group of 12 I was looking for, and was in fact the hiking club. I'm not sure how the guy misheard me when I asked if it was caving.
I check my e-mail on my phone, remember that the meeting place is across campus from my current location, and bolt.
I do make it on time, and am promptly told to find a cover suit and a pair of wellie boots that fit me. I struggle a little with these tasks, but eventually find suitable gear. The cover suit is rather mobility restricting, and I couldn't lift my legs very high while wearing it.
We carpool in two cars with our gear, and drive into Derbyshire, much to my delight, as my coworker Jaime recommended that I go caving in Derbyshire. In fact, his recommendation is probably the reason I went on this excursion in the first place.
We stopped at a convenience store for snack and eat at a "caving hut" which is like a hostel for cavers, before making our way to the Giants Hole, the name of the cave we are about to adventure.
The area around the cave was very pleasant. Surrounded by rolling hills, and plenty of grazing sheep, we park the car and get ready. As we gear up for the Giants Hole, I promptly notice that one of my wellies has a gaping gash in the side of it! I point this out, and am told that it doesn't matter, because my boots are going to fill with water anyway, and in fact, this might be a good thing because then the water can drain out. I promptly ask, "so, then what's the point of wearing rubber boots in the first place if they're going to get wet no matter what?" and I don't receive an answer. We put on our helmets, and check that head lights are working properly.
Feeling like Maggie from The Simpsons in her snow suit, I waddle with the rest of the group to the cave entrance, and my excitement builds. The entrance is daunting and mysterious. I remember all the books I've read with characters exploring dark caves. Given that I am currently reading "The Fellowship of the Ring," the story of Bilbo Baggins finding the Ring in Gollum's Cave came to mind. Exciting! We split into two groups of six, and my group went in second. I like the small group size, it really did create a stronger group bonding experience.
Water is flowing into the cave, creating a wide stream. I hop from rock to rock, pleased with myself by being able to not have to put my feet in the water. We're told not to worry about getting wet, but I ignore this and am content with my rock hoping. In the cave, we see remnants of Victorian construction. The most experienced member of our team explains that people tried making the Giants Hole a public "show cave" but then gave up. This construction doesn't go very deep in. The ceiling lowers for some of this stretch, which is a nuisance as we had to crouch for a while, which was not particularly comfortable. After missing some steps, I submit that my feet are going to get wet, and stop trying to step on rocks.
We come across the first main obstacle, which going down a 20 foot waterfall. One of the more experienced guys (I really do wish I was better at names) asked me and another new girl if we had learned the single rope descending technique. I hadn't, because it was during the instruction of that technique that my instructor started swearing like a sailor, and the top priority became getting me down safely. Since neither of us could do that on our own, we clipped in to the rope, and they lowered us down. It was a little tricky trying to keep ourselves from bashing into the rock face, and avoiding the waterfall, but we made it down with no problem.
We continue walking through the cave, and this next part is appropriately called the "crabwalk". We were walking through the stream (at this point, we need to walk in the water, there is nowhere else to step), and I'm a little perturbed that the majority of this winding passage is less than my shoulder width wide. This means that we need to go through sideways, hence the name "crabwalk" Some of the muddy puddles deepen, and we try to hop over them the best we can, but some are too wide to hop over. This results in landing in some puddles that are crotch deep of mud water.
It was easy to get lost in my own thoughts, and not feel stressed in the crabwalks, but I was certainly hoping that it wouldn't all be this narrow. My first moment of uncomfortable anxiety hit when I got stuck going through an even narrower segment. It wouldn't have been too bad, but in that area water was also streaming down from the ceiling onto my face, adding an extra sense of urgency to get through as quickly as I could, but then feeling trapped when I got stuck again. Feeling panicky, as my body is wedged between two rock walls with water pouring over me, the man behind me calmly told me to back out, and to duck down on my next attempt, as the gap was larger at the bottom of the tunnel. I try this a couple times, getting stuck again, and eventually through myself through, clambering on my hands and knees, before standing back up and recovering.
Now, this might not sound very bad, (and truly, it wasn't, or shouldn't have been) but as a sidenote I kept finding myself thinking of a scene in a book I've read. In this scene, the main character, Drizzt, is escaping some unknown hook-tentacle monster in a dark cave. In order to get away from the pursuit, he goes down a one-way, cave tunnel, which tapers and tapers until he is being squeezed to get through. He reaches a point where the only way he can fit is by exhaling all the air in his lungs to decrease his torso size, so he is unable to breath, risking suffocation if the tunnel is longer than he anticipated.
So, with this scene running through my head, I'm a little more nervous than I should be.
This happens a couple more times, but after the shock of the first occurrence I'm better able to deal with it, and it isn't troubling.
I forget the exact order of events, but I'll do my best to recount them in sequence.
We come across a shorter waterfall drop, where we need to descend a ladder to reach the bottom of the cave. This wouldn't be a problem, except that the water fall is right over top of the ladder. I try to descend at the very edge of the ladder, but given my limited sight and after having trouble finding the ladder rungs with my feet, I submit to being splashed by the water fall. It didn't help that the ladder swayed during the climb down. -SPLASH-
Further along, we are crabwalking through some more winding passages, with more puddles. For the most part, these are only about 6" deep or so, but it is impossible to tell due to the murkiness of the water. Some you can step over, others you need to step in to get across. That's all fine and dandy until SPLOOOSH! One of the puddles turned out to be 2 feet deep, completely catching me off guard, and I slightly twist my ankle. I need to sit down for a minute or so, but when the pain recedes I'm able to continue. I sort of have to continue, because we're already so far deep underground.
We come next to a rock wall, about 8 feet high, with a rope dangling down. We need to ascend here in order to continue. This turned out to be a lot trickier than expected, because water was continuously pouring down from the top, and the rock face was mostly smooth with very few places to put my feet. Fortunately, two gentlemen are able to help me through. One at the top clips me into his line, so I don't need to fear slipping and falling backwards off the rock face completely, and he also helps by pulling on the rope, removing some of my weight to help me climb. By this point, I'm already very tired all over, and so my arms and legs tremble more than usual. The man at the bottom actually let me stand on his shoulder to help me push my way up. Apparently this is standard procedure, and he is used to doing this with individuals far heavier than myself, but I still felt a little awkward about it. I thank both of them profusely afterwards.
The next challenge was actually quite fun. We arrived at another drop, where we need to lower ourselves down with the rope. Once again, myself and another girl not knowing this technique, were lowered down by someone at the top. This segment required more effort on our parts, because the chasm is quite narrow. I need to "scuttle" around while being lowered to fit through the crevasse. The rock walls are very uneven, so I need to do a fair bit of moving to find the wide enough gaps. This chasm was actually a fair bit deeper than I expected. I was lowered about 30 feet, perhaps a little more. You can't really see the bottom from the top, due to the shape of the rock walls.
We reach the bottom, and are next lead to the area which terrified me the most. So, there's a tunnel we need to crawl through on our hands and knees. It's about three and a half feet high, going from the deepest part of the water to the rock ceiling. On top of needed to crawl through the mud water, there isn't enough room for your head to fit upright, and one needs to tilt their head sideways in order to be able to breath, (or else your face would be underwater). This is horrifically awkward, and unfortunately necessary. At the very least, I'm told that I can take my helmet off at this point and hold it in front of me to for the light. This enables my sideways head to fit a little bit better, and reduces some of the stress. Another stressful problem is that the tunnel winds around, so I have no idea how much more is a head of me. Actually, on that note I can't even see ahead of me very well, because of the way my head is twisted. Mostly I see the mud water below me, and the wall beside me. My suit fills with mud, and my knees begin to get very sore from scuffling against the stone floor. Some parts in the stream are less painful, because they have a bit of sediment accumulation, but for the most part my knees are hitting bedrock with every movement. At certain points, the pain increases too much, and I need to pause. Now, pausing is not very helpful psychologically, because it gives you time to further reinforce that you're trapped 100m underground, soaking wet, crawling through a meter high tunnel where your only light is from the helmet you're holding in front of you. Its best to concentrate on keeping moving. Of course, when I think I'm finally at the end, it turns out that it was just another corner, and the tunnel continues further. The worst part was probably that there was no comfortable position to take a break, because there simply wasn't enough room for it. If I tried lying down, I'd be engulfed in the mud stream.
Eventually, much to my great relief, it widens, and I reach the people ahead of me. I had never been so happy to be able to crouch normally. I put my helmet back on at this point, and we continue.
We crab walk on for a significant while longer, only now I'm soaking wet, and getting cold much more quickly. I don't care as much about that, though, because I'm just elated to be out of that tunnel. We get to an even higher rock face with a rope, like the one further, but this one is a technically easier climb, because there are way more hand and foot holds. However, my arms and legs are jelly, so it does take some effort.
Finally, after more walking through, we come back to that initial waterfall where we were first lowered down! To get back up, we need to climb a suspended ladder, (for those of you who have never done this, it is significantly more difficult than you would think). Since we can only go up one at a time, someone brings out a giant yellow tarp they had in a bag, and we all huddle under it for warmth. It appears that I'm not the only person who is very cold at this point. It is awhile before my turn, and we chat for a bit. The main experienced man (I really wish I remembered these people's names!) told us how he once needed to camp in a cave, with three other people, with only sleeping bags and a tarp like this.
Finally, it is my turn to climb. It's the last challenge, and I knew we'd be out soon after this. The ladder sways, and I smack into the rock a couple times, but I just keep going up step by step. My arms are actually shaking by the time I'm half way up, due to all the fatigue from this journey, but I know I'll only be more miserable if I go back down, and need to try again from the beginning. I try taking a break, but quickly find that remaining stationary also requires physical strength. The most efficient use of energy is to just keep going up, and my arms start to burn, but finally I'm able to haul myself over the edge. Victory! I get unclipped from the safety line, and I hobble to a spot to sit down and wait for the others to join us.
The sensation of seeing daylight again was a joyous one indeed.
Afterword:
Everything I was wearing became soaking wet from the tunnel, so the only dry clothes I had were my army boots and my coat left in the car. "You leave your dignity behind when you go caving," says the man whose shoulder I stepped on, so behind the car I strip down to my underclothes +t-shirt and just wear my coat over top. In my defense, girls wear dresses shorter than my coat out clubbing, so really, there is nothing wrong with this.
I'm still freezing cold, but the nice man (whose shoulder I stepped on) invited us over for tea! We drive to his place and have a cup before driving home.
Thank you, person-with-the-car for driving me right to Bodington Hall!
I definitely do not regret this experience, because I feel like it helped develop character etc. Now whenever I feel cold and lonely, sick and tired, I just think, "at least I'm not trapped 100m underground, soaking wet, in a 1m high tunnel", and I feel a little better.
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