Win a pair of Hi Tec Para Boots!

[Amy]

Everyone thinks footwear is for feet. Not so. Heading to a multidrop pulldown trip that involves a good bit of canyoning and cobblestone crawls one of the guys realized he had forgotten kneepads! Of course we are in the middle of nowhere the only thing between us and the cave a small town Dollar General store. Having nothing better, Larry bought the BIGGEST pair of flip-flops he could fine, which happened to be a bright paisley pair, and promptly duct taped them to his knees for the trip. The finest kneepads ever made with a pair of footwear, and so henceforth known as FlipFlop Larry 

 

[Pegasus]

Next competition; 'win a pair of caving flipetty flops.' ?

Amy would probably win that one! 

 

[martinm]

The Long Walk

My first 'proper' caving trip was after walking (my mate Steve and I, in our Caving Wellies) from Rugeley to Wetton Mill via the Weaver Hills, the Hamps Valley and Beeston Tor. The walk was about 33 miles and we both ended up with blisters on our feet, unsurprisingly. We didn't know anything about layering back then as we were very young (late teens) and inexperienced, else we could have made things better with 2 pairs of socks. (A liner sock and a proper padded walking sock, sigh.) Hindsight is a wonderful thing isn't it!

On this first visit to Beeston Tor,  we found two caves not even in the 'Caves of Derbyshire', (the current caving guide of the time.) They were subsequently surveyed by us, but not otherwise documented until the Manifold and Hamps Cave and Mine Conservation Audit first published by myself and the DCA in April 2005! (Now on it's 2nd edition.)

Can't remember why we went up that part of the hillside, the caves we found were about 30m above the river bed and involved scrambling up scree and through heavy undergrowth, but find them we did. I guess we were just enthralled by the place and eager to explore and find stuff. This was an adventure!

We were both using 'Stinkies' and Paper Mache helmets which we'd made ourselves, lol.

Both caves had been archaeologically excavated by someone. We called the caves Beeston Cave and Cathedral Rift. (The latter due to it's height.) In the latter cave we noted bones and a worn down trowel obviously been used for the archaeological work.

We'd set off from Rugeley quite early and reached the camp site at Wetton Mill around dusk, both knackered. Still the longest walk I've ever done! Still, we were camped for the first time at Wetton Mill and looking forward to the next days activities, whatever they might be.

We were excited! Next day we started looking around in the river bed. The start of a long history of exploration in the area.

At the end of the weekend my mom and dad came and gave us a lift home. Thank goodness for that!

Long Churn & Alum Pot

Then of course, there was the time when I walked through the snow back to the Landrover from Alum Pot in neoprene wetsocks. Can't remember exactly why now, (maybe I lost my wellies),  but at least my feet were warm!

 

[mrodoc]

Best story I heard was of the team who put blue rubber gloves on their feet to protect a crystal floor!

 

[cavermark]

Best story I heard was of the team who put blue rubber gloves on their feet to protect a crystal floor!

I think that was ben, lou and tim in uzbekistan or similar. They showed a video at HE that was hilarious.. definite candidate for winning this competition...

 

[Huge]

I remembered this today:-

The Alum / Diccan Wellie Boot Exchange

Sometime in the early '90's, four of us from Morgannwg CC, stayed at Greenclose, the NPC hut outside Clapham, for a week (including the weekends either side). We were joined, for various stints, by other people through the week. We had a brilliant time, doing a variety of great trips with a variety of great friends. One evening, in the middle of the week, we were joined by Tim and his then (non caving) girlfriend. We decided to do an Alum / Diccan exchange trip the next day.

While getting changed in the sunshine the next morning, Tim informed us that he couldn't find his wellies.  We looked up to see Tim's girlfriend driving off down the lane, with Tim's wellies still in the back of the car! The footwear he had on was completely inappropriate for caving, let alone prusiking. I can't remember what he was wearing exactly but it was probably a pair of sandals. Was Tim going to have to wait on the surface while the rest of us enjoyed ourselves underground? Of course not. We weren't going to let the fact that there were five cavers but only four pairs of wellies, stop us from all doing the trip!

The two Diccan Descendees headed off to start rigging, while the other three of us (one with comfortably cool feet) ambled more gently up the hill, as we knew the Diccan rigging was going to take a lot longer than chucking a rope down Alum. After waiting for an agreed length of time, the two, rubber shod, Alum Potters, started on down the NW Route. When we reached the bottom, there was no sign of the Diccanists, so we kept ourselves warm and entertained by attempting to climb one of the cascades while doing handstands. We failed.

A light appeared from above and we were soon joined by the first of the Diccan Downers, who promptly shot off up Alum. Once on the surface, he passed his wellies on to Tim, who quickly dropped Alum and reached the bottom of Diccan just as I was nearing the top of the final pitch. Tim de-rigged Diccan and once we'd all met up back on the surface, swapped the borrowed wellies for his sandals and the Wellie Boot Exchange was complete.

 

[steviet_scg]

The date: 4th May 1991
The place: King Pot

The story of a Saturday caving trip, as ever, starts on Friday night. For me, this meant a game of darts in the Rocket, a pub next to the train station in Coventry. I cannot recall in detail but I'm guessing I stayed a bit too long and drank a bit too much. The alarm would have brought me to a barely woken state just before 6 and I'd drag myself out and knock together a cup of tea and breakfast. Soon enough Colin would knock on the door and we'd scoff down our breakfast before hotfooting it to the train station and the 630 train to Birmingham New Street. Once at New Street we'd carry our burgeoning rucksacks and meet up with Tony H and his Vauxhall Chevette. There followed a long drive up to the dales and a rendezvous with the rest of the team in Bernies.

Here we would meet up with Martin, Elen, Nasty (I think is real name was Ian - and his nickname was because legend had it that he owned a video nasty rather than actually being nasty) and Tony C. The rest had come up from Birmingham but Tony C had come down from the Lakes. We found him nursing a pint of tea and looking at the old guidebooks with a puzzled look on his face. 'Can't see why we're going down King Pot - it's only 300 foot long' he said - someone passed him a nice new shiny guidebook whilst we got on with ordering our second breakfast.

We headed up to Kingsdale and sorted the kit out. Once all packed we arranged the bags in a long line - 7 tackle bags. This was a ladder trip.

The trip down the cave was just great - a nice pace, no great drama, quite a lot of hard work and all seven of us got to the East Kingsdale Master Cave. Somebody made a comment that it's a long way to see something not as good as the West Kingsdale Master Cave. I couldn't judge - I'd never been. Not sure that there would be many cavers who saw the East Kingsdale Master Cave before the West - but there you go. We had a brief discussion about heading out through the Grasshopper Series and exiting via Valley Exit. The way was open, it'd been dry and we understood that the exit was open as divers were using it in the quest to connect both sides of the valley - which, obviously did happen just a few months later.

But, we didn't - we turned round and headed out. Again, no drama. Just solid caving and good team work. I remember not looking forward to climbing Victoria pitch - but it turned out to be a great ladder climb and from there I thought it was only going to be time before we got out.

We arrived at what is probably the worst bit of the cave - the tightish bedding with a rift in the floor - not big enough to use but big enough to make progress more awkward. It was at this point that Nasty told Tony H to take care and not drop the bag down the rift. As the occasion demanded the next sound I heard was a whooshing, a thud and some swearing. Discussions were had and someone recalled that there was a snap crab that had a tendency to stick open somewhere in the tackle. We'd put a sling on the small climb up into the rift and Martin turned round to retrieve the sling as this was going to be used to rescue the tackle sack. As he did so one of his nice pair of lace up steel toe cap boots - dropped into the rift - he simultaneously pushed and twisted and his foot jammed solid. Martin was quite a good climber and over the next few years I had the pleasure of his company on Peak District grit - but I never saw him place a hex in a crack more securely than his boot in that rift. Tony C went to his aid and it became obvious that the boot wasn't going to move - a change of tack - we needed to untie his laces. Not easy in such a confined space. I remember Martin being a solid and more than competent caver but he did get cold easily. With such an early start it had been a long day already and we'd been underground for quite a while. We were tired, hungry and dehydrated. There wasn't exactly any panic but the atmosphere had definitely changed. Eventually after about 30 minutes we managed to untie the laces and slacken the boot enough to get Martin's foot out. The boot wouldn't move - so we left it! At almost exactly the same time Nasty succeeded in getting the crab around the tackle bag handles and the ladders were retrieved. A brief moment of cheer took over until Colin, who had been sat patiently at the bottom of the climb into the rift  tried to climb up when his cold muscles refused to cooperate and he fell back down. Thankfully there were no injuries and so we carefully and increasingly slowly made our way out into the night.

Martin's nickname up until then was Toffee Apple (I've no idea why!) we tried to change it to 'Boot' but unlike his real boot it never stuck.

As I was typing this I just remembered another boot story ... I wasn't there but I remember the story being told to much merriment. The venue this time was Nick Pot and after a successful trip Colin and I think Tony H emerged into a blisteringly cold night. By the time they reached the car they were white over - head to foot. Colin always wore lace up boots (I think he struggled to get wellies big enough!) and his double tied laces were now totally frozen. Necessity being the mother of invention Colin came up with an obvious plan and p1ssed all over his boots. Epic Fail - it made no difference. Actually, not sure how did get out of them!

 

[martinm]

great stuff! Memories, eh? 

 

[Pegasus]

I reckon these competitions would be more fun with a poll, we can all vote for our favourites that way!

I'll see what we can do...... - You don't ask, you don't get - !

There are too many good entries into this competition to make choosing a winner easy, so.....

We'll compile a shortlist of the best and run a poll so people can vote for their favourites....

Just over a week to enter folks......

 

[cap n chris]

Rod's Pot and the Questing for Excalibur!

Once upon a time, many moons ago, a young caving Knight (let's call him Mr. Steve Sharp) posted a parchment on Ye Olde UKCavinge.coe.uke appealing for assistance after having had a near miss on a recent Quest into the Dungeons of Rod's Pot on Ye Mendippe Hilles.

He recounted his woe at barely surviving a mishap while climbing up towards Hanging Deathly Boulders of Doom Chamber[tm] since his beloved Bellywoot had become firmly snadgered in a vice of limestone and he flustered and clustered for many sweats trying to dislodge it without falling to an early demise. Despite his many manly thrashings and twistings, the snadgered Bellywoot was not yielding to ignorbruteness and finally he despaired, slipped his dainty be-socked trotter out, and left the Bellywoot behind, firmly ensconced in a localised loving grasp of the otherwise cold indifference of the limestone, and hopped back to the surface world of aroma, light and birdsong.

His Saga of Epicness was regaled to a near-disbelieving throng in these here hallowed virtual scrolls and the Spritely Knightly Captain Chrispian took up the challenge as he had a particularly strong cup of gruel that morning and felt sufficiently misguided and chirpy and ready to accept the challenge of retrieving the Beloved Bellywoot of Knight Sharp.

Not entirely sure I can keep up this style of writing so shall revert to a more prosaic report ? drove far too fast to the hills of God's Own Country on a wild weekday morning, first thing, in order to get ahead of the imagined crowds of people vying for the reward offered by Sharp ? but this reward was a double foil since on the one hand it existed and hence was a spur to action but on the other hand it was only a beer token and Chrispian wasn't imbibing beerage at the time, instead preferring sippittyfizzwater. Therefore, since the reward was going to be effectively wasted,..... the mission plan altered accordingly:-

Hence on arriving at the wedged welly, it was photographed in situ, persuaded to yield with a crowbar (for it was proper squoozed in the vice), photographed again, Excalibur-like, removed and held aloft like a winning raffle ticket, and then comprehensively wedged back in again!

The Stupid Pillock[tm] Chrispian then reported his travails in the virtual caving bar, here, and informed Mr. S that his welly had been successfully retrieved (including photographs to prove the point) but the reward was an insufficient motivator to bring it to the surface, and so it had been restored to its rightful resting place.

(There is another version of this anecdote, but that one's true). 

 

[martinm]

haha! Nice story Chris. 

 

[Pegasus]

Ends soon.....

 

[Hunter]

In the past I always wore ex work boots that were made from leather which went hard when it dried after a good soaking.
The only way to get them on over neoprene socks next trip was a liberal soaking with washing up liquid.
This was fine until you hit a stream way and the water reacted with the washing up liquid to leave my boots covered with a thick layer of bubbles which in turn got some strange looks & enquiring comments from other Cavers.

 

[Pegasus]

As requested I've compiled a (rather long, too many good tales) short list and added a poll.

Please chose your favourite 2 and vote - at the end of the week we'll either have a winner or I'll know polls for competitions don't work and I'll then choose a winner.....

Thanks folks....

 

[Badlad]

Hey - are we going to let the Cap'n walk away with this 

 

[Pegasus]

Fulk & Cap n Chris - neck and neck 


So who should get the boots??  :-\ 


Don't forget to vote, thanks folks!  ​

 

[Maj]

So they might be joint winners.
You might need to have another vote as to who gets to choose the colour and who gets which boot.

Maj.

 

[Roger W]

Cap'n Chris could take a photo of them and leave them where Fulk can't reach them...

 

[Bottlebank]

Given the subject I think one boot for first place and a the other for second would be a perfect solution.

It would also avoid any arguments about which colour or size people need.

 

[cap n chris]

Cap'n Chris could take a photo of them and leave them where Fulk can't reach them...

Very good.