caving_fox
Active member
A former scouting club has a series of rules for when an expedition turned epic, of which I can only remember a few
1) it started and ended in darkness
2) you became lost
3) you were in mortal peril
The CCCC represented by me, Mike, Jane, Neil and Gordon, managed all of these (well a bit) on our trip to Otter Hole 09/08/08.
The nature of the tides meant our rendezvous was to be fully changed and kitted up at the carpark by 8:15 on Saturday morning
The CCCC are better known for their post midday starts, and while Jane has been leading a bit of resurgence in the idea of caving before lunchtime 8:15 really was quite a shock. As we were camping at the Beeches, this early start (ok it wasn't actually dark as we struggled out of our tents but it certainly felt like it) meant we skipped our usual vast fried breakfast and instead had to rush cold cereal and sandwiches. Seldom have I wanted a fry-up more... But we did get to the carpark on time (something of a miracle already) and met our Guide/Warden for the day Pete. :bow:
The first of the day's raindrops gently drizzled upon us as we marched through the woods to the entrance. The forecast was for a humble 4mm of rain so we weren't too concerned, although earlier checks during the preceding week had predicted it to be somewhat wetter. Once a few minor technical difficulties were dealt with regarding lights, and doors, oversuits and kneepads adjusted, we signed in and started the crawls. The wonderfully gloopy mud made slithering about almost fun - at least in this direction still feeling full of energy. We made slow progress through the more bouldery sections and so we reached the sump it was already close to closing! A few inches of airspace were left so it was a quick duck through! Although the diver in the group did spend quite a while 'preparing' to do so, we all made it comfortably-ish. Distinctly warmer than many of the other ducks in deeper rivers. Those with injudicious mouths declared that you could taste the incoming salt :yucky: Personally I keep my mouth closed when going through ducks.
A rather enjoyable bit of streamway stomping follows this, a few boulder chokes, and a reasonable bum and feet traverse across a rift - but it was not quite clambery enough to drive the slight chill from the sump away before we reached the scrubbing point. Vigorous splashing of water made us almost look respectable again (well as respectable as we're ever likely to look in caving gear), but it was all to little avail. The start of the Mendian Way is more wriggling through muddy boulders - not quite the same degree of gloopy mud as before - but we were quickly an even shade of brown again. A few awkward obstructions and climbs required a few repeated attempts for some party members to get through, and one short section of backtracking (enough to just about qualify for lost) otherwise Pete was totally flawless in his guiding :bow: before we reached the pretty bits.
What can I say. They really are very pretty, and there is a lot of them. Worth all the mud and awkwardness to get to. We ambled. We stopped. We oohed and ahhed (Jane squeaked). Photographs were taken, though the majesty of the halls is difficult to capture. As this was an over the tides trip we continued on beyond the Hall of Thirty, the Black Stal, Neil felt sufficiently tired that he was starting to stagger on the boulders and in danger of twisting an already suspect knee - and so still hasn't managed to reach the Long Straw. It really is very very long. With lots of time still remaining before the sump was due to open again - even though we weren't caving that fast - we pushed on to the small chamber before Tunnel junction that Pete reckons forms the best photograph in the cave. The short climb up brought us through to the end of the cave at Tunnel Junction.
The return journey was slow, tiredness was beginning to set in, and the pretties less absorbing on the long way out. But with gravity on our side many of the obstructions weren't so tricky and we made fair progress. The sump officially began to re-open at 4:20, with low tide at 7:30 or so, hence we weren't in any rush, and didn't fancy waiting around to for sufficient airspace. This was not something we needed to worry about. By about 6:30 we were in the streamway approach, I was at the back of the party providing the odd leg-up for those struggling on the climbs :ang:, and so only received fragmented shouts but I gathered that Pete had reached the sump, and it was only about as open as when we'd just got into the cave, and that some speed would be desirable here :blink:
In the few minutes it took us to reach the sump itself, despite the outgoing tide, the sump had closed!
In all my caving experiences this is about as close as I've come to mortal peril (apart maybe from slipping at the top of a 10m waterfall but that's another story). Watching Pete fail to climb through the Eyehole didn't improve the party moral - (not me): "what if we can't get out"
"what if we can't get out" - I was pretty sure that if necessary we could find the rescue dump and a 12 hr* wait till the next low tide whilst uncomfortable probably wouldn't be too serious. The Eyehole is normally a swim through route, the approach climb is a little awkward, it is easier to float up to it, but we didn't really think we fancied this. Neil reckoned he could make the climb with a bit of a leg up. And so it proved. At once a very undeserved sigh of relief went through the party. "If Neil can get though so can the rest of us" - naming no names again, but Neil is pretty competent at getting through awkward shapes where others struggle, even if he isn't quite as svelte as some. However this mental boost plus a bit of a leg up got everybody through - Neil gallantly carrying Jane across the far pond when she'd landed around his neck coming out of the far side. Who was left to make the climb out on their own without leg out. Yes, me. However having perhaps a decade's worth of youth over the rest and longer legs as well, it wasn't that tricky :tease:
The remaining very muddy and extremely tiring crawl out is mostly blanked from my memory already. Neil's leg cramped up from standing in the water by the sump for so long, which didn't make it any easier. We emerged grunting, sweating and bruised into the warm humid air of an evening (yes it was already pretty close to dark) rainstorm. It was 8:30 pm and we'd been underground for eleven and a half hours. Given that my FX3 is only rated for 10 hours was I pretty glad I'd been punctilious about turning it off every time we stopped, even if it was just a few minutes waiting for a climb to clear. The rain looked like it had been settled in for quite a while, and we later found out that it had started seriously about 4 pm and didn't stop till sometime in the middle of the night. We dragged ourselves back up to the carpark, got changed in the rain
and said goodbye and thanks again to Pete :bow: our guide who coped with us wonderfully. We were so tired that we didn't even fancy much for dinner and just about managed a shower and few more sandwiches before collapsing in our tents.
Despite the better weather Sunday's caving was cancelled on the grounds of still feeling too broken. We did manage to find a decent Fry-up and went for a scenic walk instead.
* I was very glad not to know until Sunday that when the Otter Sump backs up it can be 4 days until it opens again, not just 12 hrs. I would have considerably less calm otherwise.
1) it started and ended in darkness
2) you became lost
3) you were in mortal peril
The CCCC represented by me, Mike, Jane, Neil and Gordon, managed all of these (well a bit) on our trip to Otter Hole 09/08/08.
The nature of the tides meant our rendezvous was to be fully changed and kitted up at the carpark by 8:15 on Saturday morning
The CCCC are better known for their post midday starts, and while Jane has been leading a bit of resurgence in the idea of caving before lunchtime 8:15 really was quite a shock. As we were camping at the Beeches, this early start (ok it wasn't actually dark as we struggled out of our tents but it certainly felt like it) meant we skipped our usual vast fried breakfast and instead had to rush cold cereal and sandwiches. Seldom have I wanted a fry-up more... But we did get to the carpark on time (something of a miracle already) and met our Guide/Warden for the day Pete. :bow:The first of the day's raindrops gently drizzled upon us as we marched through the woods to the entrance. The forecast was for a humble 4mm of rain so we weren't too concerned, although earlier checks during the preceding week had predicted it to be somewhat wetter. Once a few minor technical difficulties were dealt with regarding lights, and doors, oversuits and kneepads adjusted, we signed in and started the crawls. The wonderfully gloopy mud made slithering about almost fun - at least in this direction still feeling full of energy. We made slow progress through the more bouldery sections and so we reached the sump it was already close to closing! A few inches of airspace were left so it was a quick duck through! Although the diver in the group did spend quite a while 'preparing' to do so, we all made it comfortably-ish. Distinctly warmer than many of the other ducks in deeper rivers. Those with injudicious mouths declared that you could taste the incoming salt :yucky: Personally I keep my mouth closed when going through ducks.
A rather enjoyable bit of streamway stomping follows this, a few boulder chokes, and a reasonable bum and feet traverse across a rift - but it was not quite clambery enough to drive the slight chill from the sump away before we reached the scrubbing point. Vigorous splashing of water made us almost look respectable again (well as respectable as we're ever likely to look in caving gear), but it was all to little avail. The start of the Mendian Way is more wriggling through muddy boulders - not quite the same degree of gloopy mud as before - but we were quickly an even shade of brown again. A few awkward obstructions and climbs required a few repeated attempts for some party members to get through, and one short section of backtracking (enough to just about qualify for lost) otherwise Pete was totally flawless in his guiding :bow: before we reached the pretty bits.
What can I say. They really are very pretty, and there is a lot of them. Worth all the mud and awkwardness to get to. We ambled. We stopped. We oohed and ahhed (Jane squeaked). Photographs were taken, though the majesty of the halls is difficult to capture. As this was an over the tides trip we continued on beyond the Hall of Thirty, the Black Stal, Neil felt sufficiently tired that he was starting to stagger on the boulders and in danger of twisting an already suspect knee - and so still hasn't managed to reach the Long Straw. It really is very very long. With lots of time still remaining before the sump was due to open again - even though we weren't caving that fast - we pushed on to the small chamber before Tunnel junction that Pete reckons forms the best photograph in the cave. The short climb up brought us through to the end of the cave at Tunnel Junction.
The return journey was slow, tiredness was beginning to set in, and the pretties less absorbing on the long way out. But with gravity on our side many of the obstructions weren't so tricky and we made fair progress. The sump officially began to re-open at 4:20, with low tide at 7:30 or so, hence we weren't in any rush, and didn't fancy waiting around to for sufficient airspace. This was not something we needed to worry about. By about 6:30 we were in the streamway approach, I was at the back of the party providing the odd leg-up for those struggling on the climbs :ang:, and so only received fragmented shouts but I gathered that Pete had reached the sump, and it was only about as open as when we'd just got into the cave, and that some speed would be desirable here :blink:
In the few minutes it took us to reach the sump itself, despite the outgoing tide, the sump had closed!
In all my caving experiences this is about as close as I've come to mortal peril (apart maybe from slipping at the top of a 10m waterfall but that's another story). Watching Pete fail to climb through the Eyehole didn't improve the party moral - (not me): "what if we can't get out"
"what if we can't get out" - I was pretty sure that if necessary we could find the rescue dump and a 12 hr* wait till the next low tide whilst uncomfortable probably wouldn't be too serious. The Eyehole is normally a swim through route, the approach climb is a little awkward, it is easier to float up to it, but we didn't really think we fancied this. Neil reckoned he could make the climb with a bit of a leg up. And so it proved. At once a very undeserved sigh of relief went through the party. "If Neil can get though so can the rest of us" - naming no names again, but Neil is pretty competent at getting through awkward shapes where others struggle, even if he isn't quite as svelte as some. However this mental boost plus a bit of a leg up got everybody through - Neil gallantly carrying Jane across the far pond when she'd landed around his neck coming out of the far side. Who was left to make the climb out on their own without leg out. Yes, me. However having perhaps a decade's worth of youth over the rest and longer legs as well, it wasn't that tricky :tease:The remaining very muddy and extremely tiring crawl out is mostly blanked from my memory already. Neil's leg cramped up from standing in the water by the sump for so long, which didn't make it any easier. We emerged grunting, sweating and bruised into the warm humid air of an evening (yes it was already pretty close to dark) rainstorm. It was 8:30 pm and we'd been underground for eleven and a half hours. Given that my FX3 is only rated for 10 hours was I pretty glad I'd been punctilious about turning it off every time we stopped, even if it was just a few minutes waiting for a climb to clear. The rain looked like it had been settled in for quite a while, and we later found out that it had started seriously about 4 pm and didn't stop till sometime in the middle of the night. We dragged ourselves back up to the carpark, got changed in the rain
and said goodbye and thanks again to Pete :bow: our guide who coped with us wonderfully. We were so tired that we didn't even fancy much for dinner and just about managed a shower and few more sandwiches before collapsing in our tents.Despite the better weather Sunday's caving was cancelled on the grounds of still feeling too broken. We did manage to find a decent Fry-up and went for a scenic walk instead.
* I was very glad not to know until Sunday that when the Otter Sump backs up it can be 4 days until it opens again, not just 12 hrs. I would have considerably less calm otherwise.
Glad you made it out safely and in time.... Wouldn't be surprised if you get to read about a CRO callout or two in the next week or so if present weather continues...... from the warmth of your living room of course. 
