Returning to the base of the pitch, I was dismayed to find that my rope was not there.
This was a problem. I was alone, at the bottom of the last pitch on the Flood Entrance route into Gaping Gill, 300 feet underground and no way out without a rope. The shiny bolt where the tail of my rope and my SRT kit had been clipped winked at me. I shouted up the pitch, no reply. I shouted louder, the echoes were impressive, but no reply.
There was one hope, there might still be a rope on Bar Pot. I had met a party earlier who were heading out that way. I checked it out, but the chamber was empty and silent. There was no rope. I shouted up, the echoes were dramatic, but there was no reply.
OK, are there any other options? I could check the other entrances, I ran through the list in my head: Dihedral, Rat Hole, Main Shaft, Disappointment, Hensler’s, Stream Passage and Corky’s. It would be a long, tiring and wet tour to check them all, and realistically the chances of finding a rope were, at best, remote. I was already tired from my trip into the ‘Near Country’, and I was potentially facing a long cold wait for rescue; it was probably better to save my energy.
One last option was to attempt to free climb out via Wild Cat Rift. I’d heard that it had been done once by someone in exactly my position. But having previously attempted and failed to climb the initial 15 foot section, and knowing that there were two or three further pitches, plus the first pitch of Bar Pot, which in itself would be a desperate free climb, I concluded that my chances of success were poor and there was a serious risk of ending up in a much worse position.
So, I had to wait for help. How long would that be? I worked out the different scenarios. The best case was that the party who took my rope would realise their mistake before they left the cave, they would then re-rig the lower pitch(s) and I’d be on my way.
The worst case scenario was that I would be reported overdue at 20:30; the CRO would find no ropes on the entrance and would assume that I had got lost on the way down the fell. They would then mount a surface search through the night. How long would it be before they thought of checking underground? I didn’t know the answer to that. I visualised the search going on above my head while I got cold and hungry below. I felt lonely. I remembered that someone had once been lost in Gaping Gill for five days before the rescue team found him. The fact that he survived, despite being injured and wet, gave me confidence that I wasn’t really in any danger. However, pessimistically, I reckoned that the very worst case was that I could be waiting for 12 or even 18 hours.
The Wait
Although there was a good chance of an early rescue, I had to plan for the worst case. I needed to save energy and as far as possible keep warm. I was wearing my standard caving gear: waterproof oversuit and thin fleece undersuit. This doesn’t keep you warm for long when you stop moving. My only emergency kit was a thin polythene survival bag that I usually kept in my helmet. I took off my helmet to see if it was there. It was.
So, I got into my survival bag and curled up out of the draft on the damp mud at bottom of Bar Pot. I turned off my light to save battery power, although with two spare lamps I probably had enough power to see me through. My plan was to rest for half an hour or so until I got cold, then do some exercise to get warmed up, before repeating the cycle.
In the dark, I listened to the cave sounds. I had done many solo caving trips and was comfortable with the strange sounds that caves make: distant low voices, groups of children laughing and chattering, and the constant dripping and gurgling of water that often seems to get louder and more intense as if heralding an approaching flood. It was familiar, almost pleasant. Then, cutting through the background hubbub, was the distinctive metallic click of a karabiner, my ears focussed sharply for more sounds of approaching rescue – nothing, false alarm, more water drips.
After a while, I was cold and uncomfortable. The floor was hard and icy cold. I waited a little longer, then got up, jogged around the chamber, jumped up and down, made windmills with my arms and moved some boulders. I also checked South East Pot, in case my rescuers had arrived there.
Eventually I was sort of warm, so I climbed back into my polythene bag, sat down, turned off the light and started singing. This was a good thing to do, the acoustics were awesome and the chamber was soon filled with a rich avant-garde fusion of beat box and aboriginal world rhythms. Thankfully, the rescue team didn’t arrive at that point.
The creeping cold soon took hold again and after holding out for as long as possible I was forced to move again. This time, I decided to warm up by looking for undiscovered passages. Every nook and crevice in Bar Pot and SE Aven chambers was minutely examined. Then I went through the crawl from SE Pot and instead of turning left along the well worn route towards Main Chamber, I turned right. This was quite interesting, a low decorated passage meandered off to a wetter section, where I turned back and examined all the side alcoves. This passed some time and warmed me up.
Back in my polythene cocoon, I settled down for another wait. I calculated that the rope thieves would have left the cave by now so I was going to have to wait for the CRO. I expected it would take them some time to mobilize and get up the hill so I still had a long wait yet. At best, the deriggers would realise their error when they met their colleagues in Clapham, they would then (hopefully) report their crime to CRO, who would then rig Bar Pot. I curled up and waited. I even started to doze listening to the melody of the cave voices. A couple of times, my ears pricked up when I heard the distinctive whooshing sound of a rope coming down a pitch, but like the karabiner clicks which were now familiar, it was a false alarm.
A little later, my ears picked out the sound of a voice that was clearer and more human than the rest. It was faint and I dismissed it; my rescuers wouldn’t be here yet. But there it was again. I listened carefully, expecting nothing. Then, clearer this time, a shout echoed through from SE Pot. I leapt up, shouted back and raced through the connecting rift. ‘Where are you?’ came a voice from above ‘I’m here’ I called back.
It was 22:30, it was the CRO. What a bunch of heroes. It had taken them less than two hours. I’d been marooned for four and a half hours.
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Here is the CRO incident report:
Feb 9 Sat 20.40 Flood Entrance Pot, North Yorkshire - Cave Rescue
A caver (m) was reported overdue on a solo trip into the Gaping Gill system from Wade's Entrance. During preliminary investigation it became apparent that other cavers had probably derigged his ropes by mistake, leaving him marooned at the bottom. A small CRO team descended and located him waiting patiently in SE Passage. Escorted to the surface none the worse for his ordeal.
