CavingPig
New member
A couple of months late, but it's about time I got around to writing a few trips up.
01.01.2015
Present: M., D., E., S., assorted others.
Written by E.
Following a late night (morning?) of fireworks, dancing and ?cocktails? (the contents of which it's probably best not to try to guess), most of those who had stayed at Bull Pot Farm for New Year's Eve were too tired or too hungover to even contemplate going underground on New Year's Day. For the few mad souls that were still keen, it was decided that Bull Pot of the Witches would be the perfect destination: minimal rigging, minimal walking, still get our caving fix.
As the four of us set off, we remarked how wet the weather was. The waterfall into the open pot was thunderous indeed, but our Glorious Leader (M.) assured us that he'd been down this cave in similar conditions before and it didn't flood. We headed for Robert's Passage, but at this point the water provoked several expletives from S., and she headed out. I was very tempted to follow her, but M. and D. had already descended into the passage and couldn't hear my explanation of where she'd gone, so I too had to press on to join them. I was a little worried about getting back up given all the water, but was reassured that there was an alternative dry route that was free-climbable if difficult, but M. could do it and would go and get ropes and SRT kit if necessary.
We decided to go and visit the Angel's Wing, since the bit leading up to it was the tightest bit of cave M. knew he could fit through and he wanted to see if he could still do it, plus I hadn't got that far on my last visit to BPOTW and am always up for a bit of a squeeze. The rest of the passage wasn't as wet as the bit we'd gone through to get into it, and we soon arrived at our destination, D. marvelling at the Gour Chamber en route. D. was through the squeeze like a greased weasel, while I tried to give M. the leg-up he said he needed. Turns out I am not strong enough to support the weight of a fully-grown man on my shoulders... He came back down and I had a go ? I found no problem with the dimensions but lacked the arm strength to pull myself through the vertical hole with nothing to push off, so I ended up using one of M.'s shoulders. We felt sorry for M. down there all alone, so D. went down to give him his leg up, and after some huffing and puffing, we were all able to enjoy the very fine chamber with its multicoloured flowstone and the aforementioned Angel's Wing.
Hearing voices, we headed back down to the Gour Chamber and discovered that S. had made it in after all via the dry route with some others who had also been at the farm. They appeared to have decided to hold an underground opera. After a quick chat, the three from my party decided to try to have a look at the upstream sump area, so off we set along the rift with the strains of arias in our ears. With all the rain, the water was pretty high and we found the ducks completely sumped, so we didn't get very far. We turned our lights off and cracked some Polo mints to see the spark, and then we turned around to head out. That's when the ?fun? started.
Bringing up the rear of the party, I was slithering down the calcite below the Gour Chamber when I heard a panicked cry from D. on point: ?Is there supposed to be this much water?!? The rift below the Chamber was at least knee-deep in water, and the awkward wriggle we needed to pass through to reach the main passage had become a full-on waterfall. We beat a hasty retreat to the Gour Chamber to consider our options.
We examined the map saved on M.'s camera, but we could see no other ways out. After some investigation of hopeful-looking nooks and crannies, we concluded that we would just have to wait it out. Although our call-out was still a few hours away, we were well provisioned with chocolate, Polos, spare batteries and a plentiful supply of water (ha). After an hour or so, when we saw that the water wasn't rising further, our main concern was keeping warm, since we were all fairly damp. I initiated a group hug, which we periodically interrupted to empty our boots (which kept refilling as our furries drained), check the water level below, and have a bit of a dance. It worked surprisingly well ? I (a person known for getting cold easily) was actually warmer after a couple of hours than I had been when we first realised we were stuck.
The call-out time slid slowly by, and every murmur from the stream in the main passageway sounded like voices on their way to find us. I Spy quickly wore thin. I felt an odd mixture of relief that help would soon be on its way, and guilt at the worry we were surely causing. An hour after call-out. What if the water's too high and they can't even get to that part of the passage? What happened to the group we met?? And then, whistles. The most glorious sound! We managed to establish vocal contact and relayed the message that we were OK, just stuck. In return, we received a Thermos full of hot chocolate through the impassable cascade (Thermoses luckily don't have to breathe). It was decided to wait a bit to see what the water was doing. After a while, the team on the other side thought that the level was going down and that in an hour or two, the obstacle should be passable. We drank hot chocolate and ate a malt loaf that also got passed through to us, excited at the prospect of impending freedom.
Then more shouting from the other side ? the water was rising again! By that stage, however, the rescue party had discovered that by sitting in a particular way, they could block the flow of water just long enough for a person to wriggle through if they were quick. Instructions were relayed, and D. was to be the guinea pig (well, he was the only one sensible enough to be wearing a PVC suit...) He got into position, shouting when he was ready. A few agonising seconds, and he was on the other side! Then it was my turn. I had been designated Carrier of the Thermos. I shouted that I was ready, took a deep breath, and went for the gap, cursing the once-lauded Thermos and its unsquashable shape. Even with B. damming the flow of water, there was still a hell of a lot of it, and it was COLD. I managed to wiggle the Thermos bag forwards and it was whisked upwards by a disembodied arm, while I tried not to get stuck. I thought I was going to have to reverse and try again, but after what seemed like forever I managed to get myself far enough forward that N. could grab me and help me through. One more quick climb and I was back in big open passageway, slightly numb but very glad to be on the right side of the cascade. As it happened, among the party that found us were two from the group we had met in the Gour Chamber earlier in the day. They had got out without any problem whatsoever, despite only having been fifteen or so minutes ahead of us!
We headed back up Robert's Passage, soon meeting further reinforcements from the rescue effort. They escorted us to the bottom of what I later found out was the free-climbable pitch M. had mentioned earlier in the day ? thankfully rigged for SRT, and they'd even been thoughtful enough to bring us our own kits. With thoughts of a warm shower and dinner in my head, I prussiked with gusto, finding myself back in the open pot in no time. Someone asked me if I'd like a quick drink before heading on out. Tea did indeed seem like a good plan before the final hurdle, and my companion agreed: ?I carried it down, so you can bloody drink it!? Thus fortified, I made it up the chimney and around the edge of the pot without a hitch, and just minutes later found myself back at the farm with the promise of hot vegetable stew as soon as I got changed.
And so my very first rescue came to an end. As they go, this was very much a best-case scenario, with no intervention from the CRO required ? but may it be my last! To all involved in getting us out safely, in case you're reading ? you did a fantastic job, and thank you once again!
01.01.2015
Present: M., D., E., S., assorted others.
Written by E.
Following a late night (morning?) of fireworks, dancing and ?cocktails? (the contents of which it's probably best not to try to guess), most of those who had stayed at Bull Pot Farm for New Year's Eve were too tired or too hungover to even contemplate going underground on New Year's Day. For the few mad souls that were still keen, it was decided that Bull Pot of the Witches would be the perfect destination: minimal rigging, minimal walking, still get our caving fix.
As the four of us set off, we remarked how wet the weather was. The waterfall into the open pot was thunderous indeed, but our Glorious Leader (M.) assured us that he'd been down this cave in similar conditions before and it didn't flood. We headed for Robert's Passage, but at this point the water provoked several expletives from S., and she headed out. I was very tempted to follow her, but M. and D. had already descended into the passage and couldn't hear my explanation of where she'd gone, so I too had to press on to join them. I was a little worried about getting back up given all the water, but was reassured that there was an alternative dry route that was free-climbable if difficult, but M. could do it and would go and get ropes and SRT kit if necessary.
We decided to go and visit the Angel's Wing, since the bit leading up to it was the tightest bit of cave M. knew he could fit through and he wanted to see if he could still do it, plus I hadn't got that far on my last visit to BPOTW and am always up for a bit of a squeeze. The rest of the passage wasn't as wet as the bit we'd gone through to get into it, and we soon arrived at our destination, D. marvelling at the Gour Chamber en route. D. was through the squeeze like a greased weasel, while I tried to give M. the leg-up he said he needed. Turns out I am not strong enough to support the weight of a fully-grown man on my shoulders... He came back down and I had a go ? I found no problem with the dimensions but lacked the arm strength to pull myself through the vertical hole with nothing to push off, so I ended up using one of M.'s shoulders. We felt sorry for M. down there all alone, so D. went down to give him his leg up, and after some huffing and puffing, we were all able to enjoy the very fine chamber with its multicoloured flowstone and the aforementioned Angel's Wing.
Hearing voices, we headed back down to the Gour Chamber and discovered that S. had made it in after all via the dry route with some others who had also been at the farm. They appeared to have decided to hold an underground opera. After a quick chat, the three from my party decided to try to have a look at the upstream sump area, so off we set along the rift with the strains of arias in our ears. With all the rain, the water was pretty high and we found the ducks completely sumped, so we didn't get very far. We turned our lights off and cracked some Polo mints to see the spark, and then we turned around to head out. That's when the ?fun? started.
Bringing up the rear of the party, I was slithering down the calcite below the Gour Chamber when I heard a panicked cry from D. on point: ?Is there supposed to be this much water?!? The rift below the Chamber was at least knee-deep in water, and the awkward wriggle we needed to pass through to reach the main passage had become a full-on waterfall. We beat a hasty retreat to the Gour Chamber to consider our options.
We examined the map saved on M.'s camera, but we could see no other ways out. After some investigation of hopeful-looking nooks and crannies, we concluded that we would just have to wait it out. Although our call-out was still a few hours away, we were well provisioned with chocolate, Polos, spare batteries and a plentiful supply of water (ha). After an hour or so, when we saw that the water wasn't rising further, our main concern was keeping warm, since we were all fairly damp. I initiated a group hug, which we periodically interrupted to empty our boots (which kept refilling as our furries drained), check the water level below, and have a bit of a dance. It worked surprisingly well ? I (a person known for getting cold easily) was actually warmer after a couple of hours than I had been when we first realised we were stuck.
The call-out time slid slowly by, and every murmur from the stream in the main passageway sounded like voices on their way to find us. I Spy quickly wore thin. I felt an odd mixture of relief that help would soon be on its way, and guilt at the worry we were surely causing. An hour after call-out. What if the water's too high and they can't even get to that part of the passage? What happened to the group we met?? And then, whistles. The most glorious sound! We managed to establish vocal contact and relayed the message that we were OK, just stuck. In return, we received a Thermos full of hot chocolate through the impassable cascade (Thermoses luckily don't have to breathe). It was decided to wait a bit to see what the water was doing. After a while, the team on the other side thought that the level was going down and that in an hour or two, the obstacle should be passable. We drank hot chocolate and ate a malt loaf that also got passed through to us, excited at the prospect of impending freedom.
Then more shouting from the other side ? the water was rising again! By that stage, however, the rescue party had discovered that by sitting in a particular way, they could block the flow of water just long enough for a person to wriggle through if they were quick. Instructions were relayed, and D. was to be the guinea pig (well, he was the only one sensible enough to be wearing a PVC suit...) He got into position, shouting when he was ready. A few agonising seconds, and he was on the other side! Then it was my turn. I had been designated Carrier of the Thermos. I shouted that I was ready, took a deep breath, and went for the gap, cursing the once-lauded Thermos and its unsquashable shape. Even with B. damming the flow of water, there was still a hell of a lot of it, and it was COLD. I managed to wiggle the Thermos bag forwards and it was whisked upwards by a disembodied arm, while I tried not to get stuck. I thought I was going to have to reverse and try again, but after what seemed like forever I managed to get myself far enough forward that N. could grab me and help me through. One more quick climb and I was back in big open passageway, slightly numb but very glad to be on the right side of the cascade. As it happened, among the party that found us were two from the group we had met in the Gour Chamber earlier in the day. They had got out without any problem whatsoever, despite only having been fifteen or so minutes ahead of us!
We headed back up Robert's Passage, soon meeting further reinforcements from the rescue effort. They escorted us to the bottom of what I later found out was the free-climbable pitch M. had mentioned earlier in the day ? thankfully rigged for SRT, and they'd even been thoughtful enough to bring us our own kits. With thoughts of a warm shower and dinner in my head, I prussiked with gusto, finding myself back in the open pot in no time. Someone asked me if I'd like a quick drink before heading on out. Tea did indeed seem like a good plan before the final hurdle, and my companion agreed: ?I carried it down, so you can bloody drink it!? Thus fortified, I made it up the chimney and around the edge of the pot without a hitch, and just minutes later found myself back at the farm with the promise of hot vegetable stew as soon as I got changed.
And so my very first rescue came to an end. As they go, this was very much a best-case scenario, with no intervention from the CRO required ? but may it be my last! To all involved in getting us out safely, in case you're reading ? you did a fantastic job, and thank you once again!
