Roger W
Well-known member
This actually started a couple of weeks ago when I got back to Derbyshire. Jimmy – you know Jimmy – rang me up and said he was on to something. Apparently he'd got hold of some papers left by a Scottish doctor who had died somewhen around 1930. One of these papers – allegedly a record made by a Doctor Hardcastle who died in 1908 – mentioned an old tunnel or adit in the Peak district that had been filled in by the local farmers somewhen around the turn of the century.
The point was, said Jimmy, he reckoned he had found the place. Not a million miles from Castleton, he said, concealed by a group of trees or bushes and evidently man-made. He had made a start at digging it out, but it was definitely a two-man job. Would I be willing to help…?
Needless to say, that Saturday night found the two of us heading for the place. We went after dark, as Jimmy thought it would lead to something big and didn't want anyone else to know. The tunnel was quite big – you could stand up in it – and ran down into the hill at a slight angle as if the old miners had been following a very small mineral vein. The boulders that had been used to block the tunnel were quite easy to shift, and there was a nice little concealed hollow among the bushes outside where we could roll them, so we made quite good progress.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a rattle and a rumble, and we were through! The blockage just disappeared: it was almost as if someone - or something – had been digging their way out from the inside, as Jimmy remarked.
The tunnel ran on, gently downhill, for quite a way, then suddenly broke into a large natural cavern with a small stream running through it and a number of passages leading off in different directions. It definitely was something big, and as my batteries were running low and Jimmy's ‘stinky' was sputtering a bit, we decided – regretfully – that we had better head back to the surface and leave further exploration for another day. I had to go off on business again, but we arranged to meet up the following Saturday for a proper investigation.
So last Saturday afternoon I turned up at Jimmy's place with my kit. Nobody answered my knock, but his key was in its usual place on the end of the piece of string and I soon let myself in. The place was empty – no sign of Jimmy or his caving gear, which was usually all over the floor. “The beggar!†I thought. “He couldn't wait for me!†Then I noticed that it was Wednesday's “Daily Mirror†that was lying open on the table, and began to worry.
A few inquiries at the local taverns soon showed that nobody had seen Jimmy since Wednesday evening, so it was with some concern that I headed up to the old adit as soon as it was dark. There was some disturbance of the bushes about the entrance – more than I thought Jimmy was likely to have made – but the old rucksack he used to carry his kit was lying there just beside the entrance. “Silly old s*d,†I was thinking as I made my way down the passage. “He's gone exploring on his own, got himself lost, or tripped over a boulder and crocked his ankle, most likely.â€
Then, as I came out into that large natural chamber, I saw his old carbide lamp. It was lying there on the ground: it appeared to have been torn from his helmet by some mighty blow and was squashed completely flat as if a large rock had fallen on it.
But there were no rocks – large or small – lying around in that part of the chamber…
Call me a coward if you like, but I was out of that tunnel like a shot, and didn't stop to catch my breath until I was back in the village.
Something will have to be done, but I don't know what. It's not only Jimmy that's disappeared: some of the farmers are saying that their sheep are going missing too. Jimmy did tell me why the locals were supposed to have blocked the passage all those years ago, but I have to admit I didn't believe him. I'm not so sure now.
I'm planning another visit to the place this weekend. Anybody fancy coming with me?
I'll be taking one of those nice bright Chinese LED lamps.
And an AK47.
The point was, said Jimmy, he reckoned he had found the place. Not a million miles from Castleton, he said, concealed by a group of trees or bushes and evidently man-made. He had made a start at digging it out, but it was definitely a two-man job. Would I be willing to help…?
Needless to say, that Saturday night found the two of us heading for the place. We went after dark, as Jimmy thought it would lead to something big and didn't want anyone else to know. The tunnel was quite big – you could stand up in it – and ran down into the hill at a slight angle as if the old miners had been following a very small mineral vein. The boulders that had been used to block the tunnel were quite easy to shift, and there was a nice little concealed hollow among the bushes outside where we could roll them, so we made quite good progress.
Then, all of a sudden, there was a rattle and a rumble, and we were through! The blockage just disappeared: it was almost as if someone - or something – had been digging their way out from the inside, as Jimmy remarked.
The tunnel ran on, gently downhill, for quite a way, then suddenly broke into a large natural cavern with a small stream running through it and a number of passages leading off in different directions. It definitely was something big, and as my batteries were running low and Jimmy's ‘stinky' was sputtering a bit, we decided – regretfully – that we had better head back to the surface and leave further exploration for another day. I had to go off on business again, but we arranged to meet up the following Saturday for a proper investigation.
So last Saturday afternoon I turned up at Jimmy's place with my kit. Nobody answered my knock, but his key was in its usual place on the end of the piece of string and I soon let myself in. The place was empty – no sign of Jimmy or his caving gear, which was usually all over the floor. “The beggar!†I thought. “He couldn't wait for me!†Then I noticed that it was Wednesday's “Daily Mirror†that was lying open on the table, and began to worry.
A few inquiries at the local taverns soon showed that nobody had seen Jimmy since Wednesday evening, so it was with some concern that I headed up to the old adit as soon as it was dark. There was some disturbance of the bushes about the entrance – more than I thought Jimmy was likely to have made – but the old rucksack he used to carry his kit was lying there just beside the entrance. “Silly old s*d,†I was thinking as I made my way down the passage. “He's gone exploring on his own, got himself lost, or tripped over a boulder and crocked his ankle, most likely.â€
Then, as I came out into that large natural chamber, I saw his old carbide lamp. It was lying there on the ground: it appeared to have been torn from his helmet by some mighty blow and was squashed completely flat as if a large rock had fallen on it.
But there were no rocks – large or small – lying around in that part of the chamber…
Call me a coward if you like, but I was out of that tunnel like a shot, and didn't stop to catch my breath until I was back in the village.
Something will have to be done, but I don't know what. It's not only Jimmy that's disappeared: some of the farmers are saying that their sheep are going missing too. Jimmy did tell me why the locals were supposed to have blocked the passage all those years ago, but I have to admit I didn't believe him. I'm not so sure now.
I'm planning another visit to the place this weekend. Anybody fancy coming with me?
I'll be taking one of those nice bright Chinese LED lamps.
And an AK47.
