Peak & Eldon:
A Few Reminiscences. - By W.M.Sissons.
(From the second journal of the DPC, November 1936.)
About 30 years ago, W.P.Smith and I, whilst wandering about the Bradwell district, suddenly got the idea we should like to go down some caves and mines.
On inquiring, we heard of a Caving Club, the GREAT MOGUL of which was a certain James Puttrell of Sheffield Moor.
One night, W.P.S. and myself called on the Great James. We were not quite sure if he at first thought that we had come to place a large painting contract, or to borrow money.
On our saying we understood he was a big noise in the Cavern World and we should like to join the Club, he beamed and rubbed his hands, and asked us if we had any specimens to show him. We were told to report at the Peak Cavern about fourteen days later at six oclock in the evening. The days seemed a long time in passing before the Great Night arrived.
I know the night before, I never slept for excitement, thinking of the journey under the earth! At last, the time came and we met a weird looking lot of men! Some spoke to us and some did not.
The first thing attempted that night was a trip into a small aven in the roof over the Guides Cabin. This was ascended first by a wooden ladder and then by a horizontal ladder on which one crawled over a drop. Half way over this ladder it was necessary to wriggle under a boss of rock.
On getting ones body through, it appeared that night, at any rate, to be the custom for a couple of men who were perched at the side of the boss and the ladder, to give each struggling cave man a sound smack on his rump, with a half rotten stemple. On inquiring what the idea was, I was told it was to make the victim wriggle so as to prevent him sticking.
Being new to the job, I believed them!
A flash light photograph was taken of a group in Roger Rains House. One of the very prominent members was posing for his photograph surrounded with various instruments. There was a Miners Dial on a tripod, through which he was peering with a very learned look on his face! Unfortunately, he was looking through it the wrong way round, and was quite peevish when told about it by the photographer.
We spent some hours digging out a passage in the Great Chamber, and it was with bleeding knuckles and broken nails, that I unearthed a large bone. This I showed with triumph to the party, which was sitting about at the entrance to the passage. Expecting to take the bone home with great pride, I was much surprised when someone, who shall be nameless, took hold of the bone and said Ah yes, this is a very interesting find, and will do for my collection. That was the last I saw of the find!
It was 2.30 before we got out of the Cavern, and it was a very tired and weary Cave Explorer who trudged over the fields to his cottage at Bradwell.
Years later some very interesting meets were held in the entrance to the Peak, when the Aven in the roof over the Swine Hole was explored.
This was a really good expedition, and a good sporting route was found leading well up. As traces of mining are there, it is obvious it goes somewhere to the surface, but unfortunately at the end there is a shaft leading up, which has run in.
If anyone cares to ladder up to the Aven, and try and clear the shaft by the Mugs method of pulling stones out, and getting a good run of debris, I will arrange for a day off to attend the inquest at the Coroners Court. We reached this Aven and passage by slinging up a 40 feet wooden ladder and another 6 feet ladder resting on one side, and held in position by a man crouching in a little alcove.
There was a bad run in one night in a chamber near the Devils Kitchen, I think the guide calls it. Winder, Puttrell and I were trying to force a new passage we had found, about 12 feet above the floor. A piece of rock, about the size of an arm-chair, came adrift, and swept me down a slope made up of small scree.
All our lights were blown out, and two very anxious voices asked Are you all right lad?
Work was called off for the night, and two of us went and had two good stiffuns at the pub, and the other member of the party had a glass of hot milk and aspirin.
Some years ago, before the War, a party of us decided to ladder Eldon Hole, and make another attempt to force the passage at the bottom of the Big Chamber.
This was a very promising passage. Although a great deal of work had been done by us, it was thought another attempt to try and get through, would be advisable. We were favoured with the presence of a very well known PERSON who was, and still is, noted for his great prowess and hair raising exploits underground (chiefly in the local Pub). Anyway, on the way up from Castleton, he was saying very loudly to all, how he could climb Eldon rope ladders one handed, and on his toe nails, so to speak.
Two of us let him talk, and settled between ourselves that he would have a passage up he would remember.
A telephone was in use, and my fellow conspirator sent up the message that the Quid-Nunc was about to start up with a half-p1ate camera and tripod on his back. The agreement was - NO assistance from the life line, as we were going to be shown how to climb about 200 feet of ladder by a real Caver.
The first thing to happen was for him to shoot out horizontally - pulled that way chiefly by his heavy camera.
When he was about half way up, we at the top heard such sayings as - For Gods sake pull! Pull you, pull Im done! Pull for Gods sake.
On nearing the top the writer quietly asked if he had come up one handed, and if he was still able to show us how it was done. The only reply was a grunt, and a view of a pair of eyeballs sticking out like shuttlecock knobs.
The Intrepid Explorer was helped out of his life line, and assisted to a tent which had been erected.
He immediately collapsed on a coil of rope ladder, and was offered a drink of whisky out of a full bottle, which the writer had planted for the Chosen Few, after the ladders were up and coiled. A very good swig was taken - in fact it was found necessary for one of us to keep a hand on the bottle, as it was being tilted too far back. The bottle was then placed in a sack, and the tent flap pulled to.
One hour and a half later, on going to see where he was, he was found peace-fully sleeping with an angelic smile on his face, with the whisky bottle in his hand and half empty. Thank heaven he had managed to get the cork in!
I will remember the first trip I made down Eldon. We descended on a rope running through a pulley, which was fastened on a rope tied to stakes, on each side of the hole. The first 12 feet were descended on a rope ladder on the rock side. One was fastened on the life line before going on the ladder.
On getting to the bottom of the ladder one took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky, and wondered if he had put all his affairs in order.
The next great move was to plunge out to the centre of the hole, and bob up and down until the men on the top lowered you - praying they would not slip and let you go.
On reaching the overhang near the bottom, one was tempted to rest there! Heaven help the novice who did rest there. Whilst sitting on this ledge, the men at the top were still lowering the rope, and one was either pulled off the narrow ledge by the weight of the rope, or decided it was better to get down to the bottom whilst the going was more or less good. In either of these cases, one got a bit more bobbing up and down!
As this was my first deep descent, I wondered what was in store for me.
I remember poor old Sprules coming up to me and saying You are next Sissons. For Gods sake put one of these candles in your mouth to stop your teeth chattering!
Before we left Castleton en route for Eldon, we had one of our usual Grand March Pasts, through part of the village, to let the local lads see what fine fellows we were! This seems to have been the custom in the Club about 30 years ago.
Today of course, we arrive by car as near to the scene of operations as possible. But in those early days, we had to foot slog it, and carry the tackle on our backs.
They were very happy times, and some really good work was done. Some of us who were in the Club in its early days, can look back and never forget what we really owe to Old Joe Hall and his wife. The former for finding us plenty of work, and his good lady for putting up with us. We must have been a nuisance with all the dirt etc., we took into their cosy cottage. One could go on for long enough, jotting down different things relating to these earlier meets, but any more will have to wait, until the next issue of the Journal, i.e. if our Editor allows any more of my very rough notes.
Some from Eldon, circa 1910:
Puttrell descending
