Dgreenwell
New member
The day started well, we left early, made good time to the cave and were filled with optimism. Poor fools. It was at this point one of our number (Mr R shall remain unnamed) realised they had left some fairly integral kit back at the tents. No matter! The sun was shining and while Toby and Mr R went back for the kit the rest of us relaxed and tried to ignore the hangovers that had been knocking about for around a week.
Eventually we made it over to the entrance of cow pot. After watching Toby render himself impotent on a rock whilst getting onto the rope my enthusiasm for the pitch had dwindled. Avoiding the rock I made my way down the pitch and took an exceptionally long time on the re-belay (to this day I cannot explain why.) I eventually made it. With the party assembled we squeezed ourselves through the constriction at the bottom of the pot and ventured into the cave. Soon we reached the traverse at the top of fall pot, at this point Jasen revealed to us that he was in agony. After an incident earlier in the week his arm was shot, sense prevailed and he turned around. Ably assisted by Deri, the Welsh-est man to have ever graced this earth.
I watched Sam and Toby descend seamlessly into fall pot, then clumsily made my way over the traverse and was stood at the top of the pitch. It should become clear to the reader that this was not my best day. SRT is not my forte and I remembered this with stunning clarity whilst standing alone at the top of fall pot. I descended cautiously into the darkness. As I did so it slowly dawned on me that fall pot is enormous and, to me at least, quite technical. As I made it to the second re-belay my subconscious decided that the best approach would be to have a staring contest with the Y-hang, then have an epic. Both of these things happened. After 20 minutes Sam called up to me ?have you tried descending a bit?? Turns out this may be the best bit of advice I?ve ever had. Re-belay conquered I made it to down the rest of the pitch, awed by the size of the cavern and met Toby at the bottom with an almost overwhelming sense of relief. Within minutes Deri had caught up and made my efforts on the pitch look even more amateurish than they were.
Onwards we caved, stopping to admire The Colonnades on the way, until we reached the exit at Lancaster hole. Trip over? Not quite, there was just enough time for me to tenderise my particulars on my SRT harness. This was an extremely unpleasant experience. Although this happened only 2ft off the ground, to my mind it counts as a mid-rope SRT rescue. Toby, having suffered a similar experience earlier in the day, took pity, and left the cave. We exited into a completely gorgeous evening, as the sun set it cast a golden glow over the purple heather. Jasen had found the entrance and had waited, soaking in the atmosphere, until we exited the cave. At this point the midges arrived so we hot-footed it back to the cars.
A good day and a good trip was had, challenging at times, but after all that?s what makes a good cave. The relief at having not shuffled off this mortal coil was a bonus.
Eventually we made it over to the entrance of cow pot. After watching Toby render himself impotent on a rock whilst getting onto the rope my enthusiasm for the pitch had dwindled. Avoiding the rock I made my way down the pitch and took an exceptionally long time on the re-belay (to this day I cannot explain why.) I eventually made it. With the party assembled we squeezed ourselves through the constriction at the bottom of the pot and ventured into the cave. Soon we reached the traverse at the top of fall pot, at this point Jasen revealed to us that he was in agony. After an incident earlier in the week his arm was shot, sense prevailed and he turned around. Ably assisted by Deri, the Welsh-est man to have ever graced this earth.
I watched Sam and Toby descend seamlessly into fall pot, then clumsily made my way over the traverse and was stood at the top of the pitch. It should become clear to the reader that this was not my best day. SRT is not my forte and I remembered this with stunning clarity whilst standing alone at the top of fall pot. I descended cautiously into the darkness. As I did so it slowly dawned on me that fall pot is enormous and, to me at least, quite technical. As I made it to the second re-belay my subconscious decided that the best approach would be to have a staring contest with the Y-hang, then have an epic. Both of these things happened. After 20 minutes Sam called up to me ?have you tried descending a bit?? Turns out this may be the best bit of advice I?ve ever had. Re-belay conquered I made it to down the rest of the pitch, awed by the size of the cavern and met Toby at the bottom with an almost overwhelming sense of relief. Within minutes Deri had caught up and made my efforts on the pitch look even more amateurish than they were.
Onwards we caved, stopping to admire The Colonnades on the way, until we reached the exit at Lancaster hole. Trip over? Not quite, there was just enough time for me to tenderise my particulars on my SRT harness. This was an extremely unpleasant experience. Although this happened only 2ft off the ground, to my mind it counts as a mid-rope SRT rescue. Toby, having suffered a similar experience earlier in the day, took pity, and left the cave. We exited into a completely gorgeous evening, as the sun set it cast a golden glow over the purple heather. Jasen had found the entrance and had waited, soaking in the atmosphere, until we exited the cave. At this point the midges arrived so we hot-footed it back to the cars.
A good day and a good trip was had, challenging at times, but after all that?s what makes a good cave. The relief at having not shuffled off this mortal coil was a bonus.
