TheOriginalPiglet
New member
This is the story of the (as far as we are aware) fifth ever crossing of the Great Stoney Traverse from Milldam Mine to Stoney Middleton – the longest through trip in the Peak District. I have also created a video of our trip that goes into a bit more detail about the history which can be found here:
That’s enough faff, onto the tale:
Halfway down Lancaster Hole at NCHECC our resident DJ starts trying to convince me to come on a “trip of a lifetime” when we get back on Monday. The trip, as he described it, was a 7.8km through trip starting in a 2024 mine and travelling back in time to some point in the mid 1700s. It would consist of a little bit of trespass, two sketchy mine collapse crossings, a terrifying traverse, some unstable ladders, and a short swim. Ben spent the rest of NCHECC convincing me how sketchy this trip would be, eager to earn some hard caver points I agree to join.
The Monday morning arrives, I hand my last will and testimony to my flatmate and depart for a layby near the TSG hut. Upon arrival I am greeted by Merryn, another member of our five-person party and, an adequate caving delay later, Ben arrives with Daniel and Jack, the final members of the team. We change into our wetsuits and oversuits and pack tackle sacks. We then embark on the 10-ish minute drive from where my car is parked at the exit of the system, to the entrance. It is only at this point that it hit me just how long this trip will be.
Arriving at the entrance to Milldam Mine, we park a short distance away and run from the car down a farm track, keeping low to avoid being seen by the farmhouse. In an attempt to keep people like us out, the entrance shaft had been closed up by a series of metal scraps with small gaps between them. Many people would have given up at this point, but we are cavers, and tight gaps are our forte. One gap just wide enough for us to squeeze through, Merryn and I go in first before Ben makes his attempt. As he is halfway through the squeeze, struggling to get his natural insulation through, we hear a quadbike engine. The two of us already in the mine exchange a worried glance and bolt down into the mine to hide in a dugout in the wall. We wait tensed, hoping Ben and the others make it through before the farmers arrive.
Thankfully everyone gets in with no issues and we carry on the jog until we are confident that we cannot be seen from the surface. We then spent some time stomping through passages large enough to fit a lorry down, exploring the remanence of a mine that shut less than a year ago. We saw break rooms with expired powdered milk, dump trucks, pools of radioactive-looking green water, radon sensor stations, first aid points, ladder shafts, and many other bits, all the while getting in depth explanations on what they were from Ben and heading towards Black Engine escape shaft.
Our path is blocked by some of the green water, Bwn just stomps on through but the rest of us hesitate considering what health effects could come from submerging our lower halves. After clearing the water pools, we make it to Mushroom Gorge, a fault supported by steel trusses and wooden boards with clumps of Last-Of-Us-esque mycelium sprouting from them. A short walk from Mushroom Gorge leads to the gate between Mildam and Ladywash.
Ladywash was characterised by black sooty walls, rail tracks, and a strong scent of diesel. Ben advised us not to touch anything and to walk in the waterways to avoid kicking up dust. The floor went from solid rock to sand and silt, intermittently splashed with bright red, yellows and oranges. A short mix of wading and walking later we came to collapse one. Ben goes first, shouting back the encouraging advice “don’t touch anything,” and the rest of us follow one by one. We continue, now wading, through the passages and junctions towards collapse two.
Once again, Ben goes first, taking a route over some unstable rocks. I’m next, and he suggests a different route below and around. I glance down the suggested passage which consists of a short squeeze under the unstable rubble Ben has just clambered over and a climb round the back. I follow Ben’s route.
Once everyone is through, we climb up some shale and sand piles to approach the traverse that has been hyped up the whole trip. This turns out to be a slight disappointment. Its “terrifying height” is no more than 8 or 9 meters, and it is probably only the same in length. While there are not many footholds, it is quite easy to brace between the two walls, and the foot holds that do exist are sturdy. We all make it across with no issues. I can, however, imagine that before Ben re-bolted this traverse it would have been terrifying.
The next obstacle immediately followed. A very sketchy downclimb over a collapse that was filled with rubble and scrap metal. While I waited for the others to get down, I had a quick bite to eat and changed GoPro Batteries, we were not even halfway so I was going to need to be more conservative with video from here. Finally, it was my turn. I clambered down over the first section of rubble using the knots in the rope as grip. The knots ran out just as the climb became super sketchy. I used a crab from my cowstails to tie a munter and abseil over the worst bit, but as I did this my footing slid slightly, dislodging a huge metal pipe above my head. It fell about 6 inches before settling again and made me seriously question my decision making coming here. It had been smooth sailing up to collapse one, but now it was getting scary.
Safely down, and now in Glebe Mine, we could continue along Crème Brulee Passage, so called because of its orangey sand and water with a crisp red sheet on top. I agree with previous trip reports here – it definitely knocked a few years off each of our lives. Thankfully it did led to some incredible passages that were filled with old mining equipment, pumps and minecarts. These passages seemed to go on for miles, and were filled waist high with water, making the going quite tough and tiring. Eventually though, they did end, and we were free to engage our final two obstacles.
We climbed through a little hole in a wall and then and other little hole in a little grate which led to a third little hole in some rock that opened into a not-so-little ladder shaft. The genius who designed this ladder shaft had put the first ladder on one side of the wall and the other ladder on the wall opposite, with a lovely (just out of reach for anyone under 6’4”) stretch over a roughly 15m drop between the two. Thankfully there was a traverse line rigged between the two wobbly ladders. While Ben and I are waiting at the top of the ladder he informs me that the ‘short swim’ he had advertised was in fact 2 kilometres long. I had been annoyed by how hot and sweaty my wetsuit had made me in the three hours leading up to this point but hearing this I was very glad I was wearing it.
The bottom of the ladder opened straight out into the swim, which turned out to be my favourite part of the trip. It led through stone lined passages that varied from knee high stooped wading to swimming with your head turned sideways to fit in the airgap. I found the best way to pass vast sections of this was to hold onto a tackle sack being dragged by another team member and just float down the stream. After about an hour of swimming and wading, Ben announces we are three quarters of the way there. Another 15-20 minutes of the same and he corrects himself – we are now actually three quarters of the way.
The final stretch of the swim was a sensual nightmare. Tight crawly passages, with only your head out the water (which has been mudded up by those ahead of you so you cannot see what you are touching), and roots, lots and lots of slimy roots - brushing past your face and sides, with your hands and knees sinking into the spindly mess of them on the bottom of the passage. Grim. Thankfully this was the final stretch. A manhole cover above our heads showed we were back at surface level, and eventually we popped out into someone’s garden. A short stomach shuffle up another streamway under their garden wall and we are out on the side of the road.
We dried off, collected the car from where we left it by the entrance 10 minutes up the road, and ended with the obligatory pub discussion of the day’s events. An absolutely incredible trip, it took 4.5 hours total. While it was not quite as death defying as described, it was most certainly still some hard caving. I would really recommend to anyone who likes mines and swimming. If you do want to talk to do the crossing talk to Ben or those at EPC, I have heard rumours of a route description in the works.
That’s enough faff, onto the tale:
Halfway down Lancaster Hole at NCHECC our resident DJ starts trying to convince me to come on a “trip of a lifetime” when we get back on Monday. The trip, as he described it, was a 7.8km through trip starting in a 2024 mine and travelling back in time to some point in the mid 1700s. It would consist of a little bit of trespass, two sketchy mine collapse crossings, a terrifying traverse, some unstable ladders, and a short swim. Ben spent the rest of NCHECC convincing me how sketchy this trip would be, eager to earn some hard caver points I agree to join.
The Monday morning arrives, I hand my last will and testimony to my flatmate and depart for a layby near the TSG hut. Upon arrival I am greeted by Merryn, another member of our five-person party and, an adequate caving delay later, Ben arrives with Daniel and Jack, the final members of the team. We change into our wetsuits and oversuits and pack tackle sacks. We then embark on the 10-ish minute drive from where my car is parked at the exit of the system, to the entrance. It is only at this point that it hit me just how long this trip will be.
Arriving at the entrance to Milldam Mine, we park a short distance away and run from the car down a farm track, keeping low to avoid being seen by the farmhouse. In an attempt to keep people like us out, the entrance shaft had been closed up by a series of metal scraps with small gaps between them. Many people would have given up at this point, but we are cavers, and tight gaps are our forte. One gap just wide enough for us to squeeze through, Merryn and I go in first before Ben makes his attempt. As he is halfway through the squeeze, struggling to get his natural insulation through, we hear a quadbike engine. The two of us already in the mine exchange a worried glance and bolt down into the mine to hide in a dugout in the wall. We wait tensed, hoping Ben and the others make it through before the farmers arrive.
Thankfully everyone gets in with no issues and we carry on the jog until we are confident that we cannot be seen from the surface. We then spent some time stomping through passages large enough to fit a lorry down, exploring the remanence of a mine that shut less than a year ago. We saw break rooms with expired powdered milk, dump trucks, pools of radioactive-looking green water, radon sensor stations, first aid points, ladder shafts, and many other bits, all the while getting in depth explanations on what they were from Ben and heading towards Black Engine escape shaft.
Our path is blocked by some of the green water, Bwn just stomps on through but the rest of us hesitate considering what health effects could come from submerging our lower halves. After clearing the water pools, we make it to Mushroom Gorge, a fault supported by steel trusses and wooden boards with clumps of Last-Of-Us-esque mycelium sprouting from them. A short walk from Mushroom Gorge leads to the gate between Mildam and Ladywash.
Ladywash was characterised by black sooty walls, rail tracks, and a strong scent of diesel. Ben advised us not to touch anything and to walk in the waterways to avoid kicking up dust. The floor went from solid rock to sand and silt, intermittently splashed with bright red, yellows and oranges. A short mix of wading and walking later we came to collapse one. Ben goes first, shouting back the encouraging advice “don’t touch anything,” and the rest of us follow one by one. We continue, now wading, through the passages and junctions towards collapse two.
Once again, Ben goes first, taking a route over some unstable rocks. I’m next, and he suggests a different route below and around. I glance down the suggested passage which consists of a short squeeze under the unstable rubble Ben has just clambered over and a climb round the back. I follow Ben’s route.
Once everyone is through, we climb up some shale and sand piles to approach the traverse that has been hyped up the whole trip. This turns out to be a slight disappointment. Its “terrifying height” is no more than 8 or 9 meters, and it is probably only the same in length. While there are not many footholds, it is quite easy to brace between the two walls, and the foot holds that do exist are sturdy. We all make it across with no issues. I can, however, imagine that before Ben re-bolted this traverse it would have been terrifying.
The next obstacle immediately followed. A very sketchy downclimb over a collapse that was filled with rubble and scrap metal. While I waited for the others to get down, I had a quick bite to eat and changed GoPro Batteries, we were not even halfway so I was going to need to be more conservative with video from here. Finally, it was my turn. I clambered down over the first section of rubble using the knots in the rope as grip. The knots ran out just as the climb became super sketchy. I used a crab from my cowstails to tie a munter and abseil over the worst bit, but as I did this my footing slid slightly, dislodging a huge metal pipe above my head. It fell about 6 inches before settling again and made me seriously question my decision making coming here. It had been smooth sailing up to collapse one, but now it was getting scary.
Safely down, and now in Glebe Mine, we could continue along Crème Brulee Passage, so called because of its orangey sand and water with a crisp red sheet on top. I agree with previous trip reports here – it definitely knocked a few years off each of our lives. Thankfully it did led to some incredible passages that were filled with old mining equipment, pumps and minecarts. These passages seemed to go on for miles, and were filled waist high with water, making the going quite tough and tiring. Eventually though, they did end, and we were free to engage our final two obstacles.
We climbed through a little hole in a wall and then and other little hole in a little grate which led to a third little hole in some rock that opened into a not-so-little ladder shaft. The genius who designed this ladder shaft had put the first ladder on one side of the wall and the other ladder on the wall opposite, with a lovely (just out of reach for anyone under 6’4”) stretch over a roughly 15m drop between the two. Thankfully there was a traverse line rigged between the two wobbly ladders. While Ben and I are waiting at the top of the ladder he informs me that the ‘short swim’ he had advertised was in fact 2 kilometres long. I had been annoyed by how hot and sweaty my wetsuit had made me in the three hours leading up to this point but hearing this I was very glad I was wearing it.
The bottom of the ladder opened straight out into the swim, which turned out to be my favourite part of the trip. It led through stone lined passages that varied from knee high stooped wading to swimming with your head turned sideways to fit in the airgap. I found the best way to pass vast sections of this was to hold onto a tackle sack being dragged by another team member and just float down the stream. After about an hour of swimming and wading, Ben announces we are three quarters of the way there. Another 15-20 minutes of the same and he corrects himself – we are now actually three quarters of the way.
The final stretch of the swim was a sensual nightmare. Tight crawly passages, with only your head out the water (which has been mudded up by those ahead of you so you cannot see what you are touching), and roots, lots and lots of slimy roots - brushing past your face and sides, with your hands and knees sinking into the spindly mess of them on the bottom of the passage. Grim. Thankfully this was the final stretch. A manhole cover above our heads showed we were back at surface level, and eventually we popped out into someone’s garden. A short stomach shuffle up another streamway under their garden wall and we are out on the side of the road.
We dried off, collected the car from where we left it by the entrance 10 minutes up the road, and ended with the obligatory pub discussion of the day’s events. An absolutely incredible trip, it took 4.5 hours total. While it was not quite as death defying as described, it was most certainly still some hard caving. I would really recommend to anyone who likes mines and swimming. If you do want to talk to do the crossing talk to Ben or those at EPC, I have heard rumours of a route description in the works.
