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After the organised and efficient Hidden Earth convention, it's always nice to unwind at Ireland's own version, which prefers to let things take their own pace and instead relies heavily on the medium that is Guinness for almost all of its functions. Sounds perfect to me.
Ireland is one of my all time favorite countries, I love the landscapes and the views, the food and the people and being a three year veteran I was starting to get used to the weather too. Some might say that a spot of rain never hurt anyone, but when caving in Ireland you can't help but take the it personally when the narrow passages you are traversing through start to rise and fill up before your very eyes.
It no longer becomes a trip based on how many Mars bars you can eat, or how many pretties you can photograph, rather it becomes a mental race against time, with every inlet adding to the concern and every foamy pool making it a little bit more nerve racking, add some random plastic bags and the odd bit of vegetation stuck in the roof of the cave ("Who put that there!") and you can always be assured of an adrenalin filled "sporting" trip in the caves of Ireland.
Not to mention that statistically the Irish symposium falls on the weekend with the most annual Irish rainfall....
In a truly DVT defying attempt we managed to cram lots of people in one vehicle, they are as follows:
Les
Wendy
CripsW (didn't cave all weekend)
Bif
Cookie
Gnome
We'd hired a nice chalet somewhere in County Clare, near The Burren, which was very nice and a stones throw away from the symposium venue. I'm going to get it out of the way now, because if I don't then others will. So whilst exploring the chalet it was noted that there seemed to be no way to lock the bathroom door, with no apparent key in sight. Thus, you can imagine my jubilation when I discovered one, well hidden behind a light. Finders keepers and all that I kept it on me all weekend with the full intention of locking Cookie in, for a laugh...
Returning one night from the hotel I had to answer the call of the porcelain and so I locked the door of the bathroom behind me. It was around this time that the key snapped off in the lock.
How does this relate to caving? You may well ask.
Well, when I first started caving, I was claustrophobic, the thought of enclosed spaces really bothered me, and all of that roof ready to fall down on you was always a worrisome factor. Through time, and perseverance I got a lot better, mainly because I realised that anything I could generally get into, I could usually get out of... and even the biggest trips, generally had an exit.
So there I was, in a small windowless bathroom in Ireland, on The Burren, my only exit was a skylight nearly 3 metres above me, with no foot or handholds, and absolutely no way to get out, and I'm starting to get jittery. It's odd when you no longer have a choice, it's something most people take for granted, but being locked up and having to rely on others is pretty annoying.
Thus after yelling a lot, Les finally arrived and generally a lot of faffing and lock fettling ensued, until finally the lock sprang back and I was a free man. Free from the room, but now forced to endure the torment of a lifetime of pisstaking. Luckily that was the only rescue that weekend.
Day one:
Pol na Gollum.
Attending:
Les
Cookie
Gnome
Bif
Tony Seddon
This is my all time favorite cave in Ireland, very wet.. sometimes critical 5 (that's over your head) and generally big, sporting and fun.
As usual we seem to pick a rather wet time to do the round trip, and as usual there was a doomsayer at the entrance calling us mad (yes really) due to their Irish accents, I considered them to be informed locals and immediately started to worry. The last time we had done this trip it had been on a falling flood pulse and we could see a foam tide mark some two metres above our heads!
It wasn't quite so bad this time and apart from a truly awful crawl at the start, it was wonderful to wade (sometimes over my head) down the streamway and just relax and enjoy the cave.
There isn't so much to look at by way of formations on the round trip and instead most of the enjoyment is from the scrambles and the general sporting aspect of it, several people were too good for the water and traversed over it, I prefer to get my moneys worth from my wetsuits. (and the new oversuit I had purchased that weekend) and so tried to get as wet as possible.
The highlight of this trip for me was Branch gallery which in normal conditions (I am told... and have never seen) is dry.... this sounds outrageous to me, because every time I have done it now it has been a roaring waterfall that literally thunders down into the depths.
Rather than an improvised sling, this time I had brought by SRT harness and so the abseil was pleasant and not fraught with the possibility of gravity induced morbidity.
It was however wet.... when you drop down the pitch the wall backs away and you end up taking the full force of the waterfall (at least I did) which is a very quick way to get into trouble if you aren't A:going down and B: going down very fast.
I hit the floor in no time, and as usual with a big grin, it's a very fun pitch to do, and was a little less violent than the previous time we'd done it, good stuff.
More trudging downstream and we finally reached the confluence which was the halfway mark and meant a lot of trudging upstream, the passageways here are fine and nicely scalloped, upstream is always hard work, but I had finally got warmed up at this point, it's always nice to note that cave fitness never really leaves you.
We were out fairly quickly, almost beating a group that had gone in before us and only done half the trip, we weren't hanging around!
This isn't entirely true though, because once we got to The Roadside Tavern as Lisdoonvarna, we actually did a lot of hanging around, so much so that Les's son got a bit windy and nearly got a rescue party out looking for us. Luckily the rescue party had a bit more sense and the first place they were due to look for us in was... The Roadside Tavern at Lisdoonvarna.
A great trip and in great company, one of the finest trips I've done.
Day two:
St Catherines to Fisher Street pot.
Attending:
Les
Biff
Cookie
Gnome
As always with this group, there is a lot of pre cave faffing, this morning was no different, with great oratories about where the car should be parked in relation to the start and end of the trip, this went on for a long time and it was only later in the day that it began to make sense.
The walk to St Catherine's entrance from Fisher street pot is bloody miles!
We opted to do the walk at the start of the trip instead of after, and left the car near Fisher street.
This cave is another classic, it's a three entrance cave usually with a trip involving going in either Arran view or St Catherines and then jumping out at Fisher street to stumble over to the bar at Meggan's for a swift Guinness and then head back down to finish the trip (although few ever return after hitting the bar).
I'd done Arran view to Fisher street the previous year and so weather permitting I was glad to have a shot at St Catherine's too.
After a god awful long walk we finally got to the cave entrance, which in typical Irish cave fashion, started out small, crawly and generally unpleasant. I'd quizzed Les about squeezes, to which he told me he remembered none... as per usual this meant he had blocked it out of his mind and of course, soon we came upon a squeeze.
Les did a great deal of faffing before letting others have a go, whilst it wasn't quite a squeeze it was a bit of an awkward slot, I managed to get through fine, but strangely enough when Les finally got through, the ordeal had robbed him of his oversuit and kneepads! I know this is true because he certainly entered the cave wearing them and at some point they were unceremoniously handed to me whilst Les puffed and faffed his way through. That's what you get for forgetting about squeezes.
After this the cave opened up and we found the streamway, I noticed that the roof was quite low, and it was always on my mind that unlike the previous days cave, this one wasn't quite so forgiving in high water conditions.... it filled to the roof.
There were points that a rise of a meter in the the water level would have filled it up, and so I was genuinely a little on edge for this one. This isn't to say it wasn't enjoyable though and a lot of it was big stomping streamway, again with little in the way of formations but generally a lot of fun.
My only gripe was the stopping that falls somewhere between the roof being too low to stand but too high to crawl, oh how I hate that combination.
It was a lot of streamway, with lots of bags in the roof and fresh leaves stuck to places overhead, generally the kind of trip where you nee to leave your imagination at the entrance and pick it up on the way out.
The few times we stopped I found myself staring intently at the stream level as if it might attack at any moment.
We soon made from the darkness into the sun beam drenched Fisher street pot and prussiked to freedom up the rope we had rigged earlier.
It was a top trip and we very quickly found ourselves in the roadside tavern, where things went wrong and Guinness was consumed, luckily this time we had already informed everyone that there was no need to worry about us, as any lateness would clearly be down to Guinness.
All in all a very good weekend, Wendy cooked some fantastic breakfasts and the symposium was brilliant as usual, a great crowd and a relaxed event, add to that some amazing caving and you have yourself a fine excursion and one of my all time favorites.
Thanks to all.
-Gnomie
Ireland is one of my all time favorite countries, I love the landscapes and the views, the food and the people and being a three year veteran I was starting to get used to the weather too. Some might say that a spot of rain never hurt anyone, but when caving in Ireland you can't help but take the it personally when the narrow passages you are traversing through start to rise and fill up before your very eyes.
It no longer becomes a trip based on how many Mars bars you can eat, or how many pretties you can photograph, rather it becomes a mental race against time, with every inlet adding to the concern and every foamy pool making it a little bit more nerve racking, add some random plastic bags and the odd bit of vegetation stuck in the roof of the cave ("Who put that there!") and you can always be assured of an adrenalin filled "sporting" trip in the caves of Ireland.
Not to mention that statistically the Irish symposium falls on the weekend with the most annual Irish rainfall....
In a truly DVT defying attempt we managed to cram lots of people in one vehicle, they are as follows:
Les
Wendy
CripsW (didn't cave all weekend)
Bif
Cookie
Gnome
We'd hired a nice chalet somewhere in County Clare, near The Burren, which was very nice and a stones throw away from the symposium venue. I'm going to get it out of the way now, because if I don't then others will. So whilst exploring the chalet it was noted that there seemed to be no way to lock the bathroom door, with no apparent key in sight. Thus, you can imagine my jubilation when I discovered one, well hidden behind a light. Finders keepers and all that I kept it on me all weekend with the full intention of locking Cookie in, for a laugh...
Returning one night from the hotel I had to answer the call of the porcelain and so I locked the door of the bathroom behind me. It was around this time that the key snapped off in the lock.
How does this relate to caving? You may well ask.
Well, when I first started caving, I was claustrophobic, the thought of enclosed spaces really bothered me, and all of that roof ready to fall down on you was always a worrisome factor. Through time, and perseverance I got a lot better, mainly because I realised that anything I could generally get into, I could usually get out of... and even the biggest trips, generally had an exit.
So there I was, in a small windowless bathroom in Ireland, on The Burren, my only exit was a skylight nearly 3 metres above me, with no foot or handholds, and absolutely no way to get out, and I'm starting to get jittery. It's odd when you no longer have a choice, it's something most people take for granted, but being locked up and having to rely on others is pretty annoying.
Thus after yelling a lot, Les finally arrived and generally a lot of faffing and lock fettling ensued, until finally the lock sprang back and I was a free man. Free from the room, but now forced to endure the torment of a lifetime of pisstaking. Luckily that was the only rescue that weekend.
Day one:
Pol na Gollum.
Attending:
Les
Cookie
Gnome
Bif
Tony Seddon
This is my all time favorite cave in Ireland, very wet.. sometimes critical 5 (that's over your head) and generally big, sporting and fun.
As usual we seem to pick a rather wet time to do the round trip, and as usual there was a doomsayer at the entrance calling us mad (yes really) due to their Irish accents, I considered them to be informed locals and immediately started to worry. The last time we had done this trip it had been on a falling flood pulse and we could see a foam tide mark some two metres above our heads!
It wasn't quite so bad this time and apart from a truly awful crawl at the start, it was wonderful to wade (sometimes over my head) down the streamway and just relax and enjoy the cave.
There isn't so much to look at by way of formations on the round trip and instead most of the enjoyment is from the scrambles and the general sporting aspect of it, several people were too good for the water and traversed over it, I prefer to get my moneys worth from my wetsuits. (and the new oversuit I had purchased that weekend) and so tried to get as wet as possible.
The highlight of this trip for me was Branch gallery which in normal conditions (I am told... and have never seen) is dry.... this sounds outrageous to me, because every time I have done it now it has been a roaring waterfall that literally thunders down into the depths.
Rather than an improvised sling, this time I had brought by SRT harness and so the abseil was pleasant and not fraught with the possibility of gravity induced morbidity.
It was however wet.... when you drop down the pitch the wall backs away and you end up taking the full force of the waterfall (at least I did) which is a very quick way to get into trouble if you aren't A:going down and B: going down very fast.
I hit the floor in no time, and as usual with a big grin, it's a very fun pitch to do, and was a little less violent than the previous time we'd done it, good stuff.
More trudging downstream and we finally reached the confluence which was the halfway mark and meant a lot of trudging upstream, the passageways here are fine and nicely scalloped, upstream is always hard work, but I had finally got warmed up at this point, it's always nice to note that cave fitness never really leaves you.
We were out fairly quickly, almost beating a group that had gone in before us and only done half the trip, we weren't hanging around!
This isn't entirely true though, because once we got to The Roadside Tavern as Lisdoonvarna, we actually did a lot of hanging around, so much so that Les's son got a bit windy and nearly got a rescue party out looking for us. Luckily the rescue party had a bit more sense and the first place they were due to look for us in was... The Roadside Tavern at Lisdoonvarna.
A great trip and in great company, one of the finest trips I've done.
Day two:
St Catherines to Fisher Street pot.
Attending:
Les
Biff
Cookie
Gnome
As always with this group, there is a lot of pre cave faffing, this morning was no different, with great oratories about where the car should be parked in relation to the start and end of the trip, this went on for a long time and it was only later in the day that it began to make sense.
The walk to St Catherine's entrance from Fisher street pot is bloody miles!
We opted to do the walk at the start of the trip instead of after, and left the car near Fisher street.
This cave is another classic, it's a three entrance cave usually with a trip involving going in either Arran view or St Catherines and then jumping out at Fisher street to stumble over to the bar at Meggan's for a swift Guinness and then head back down to finish the trip (although few ever return after hitting the bar).
I'd done Arran view to Fisher street the previous year and so weather permitting I was glad to have a shot at St Catherine's too.
After a god awful long walk we finally got to the cave entrance, which in typical Irish cave fashion, started out small, crawly and generally unpleasant. I'd quizzed Les about squeezes, to which he told me he remembered none... as per usual this meant he had blocked it out of his mind and of course, soon we came upon a squeeze.
Les did a great deal of faffing before letting others have a go, whilst it wasn't quite a squeeze it was a bit of an awkward slot, I managed to get through fine, but strangely enough when Les finally got through, the ordeal had robbed him of his oversuit and kneepads! I know this is true because he certainly entered the cave wearing them and at some point they were unceremoniously handed to me whilst Les puffed and faffed his way through. That's what you get for forgetting about squeezes.
After this the cave opened up and we found the streamway, I noticed that the roof was quite low, and it was always on my mind that unlike the previous days cave, this one wasn't quite so forgiving in high water conditions.... it filled to the roof.
There were points that a rise of a meter in the the water level would have filled it up, and so I was genuinely a little on edge for this one. This isn't to say it wasn't enjoyable though and a lot of it was big stomping streamway, again with little in the way of formations but generally a lot of fun.
My only gripe was the stopping that falls somewhere between the roof being too low to stand but too high to crawl, oh how I hate that combination.
It was a lot of streamway, with lots of bags in the roof and fresh leaves stuck to places overhead, generally the kind of trip where you nee to leave your imagination at the entrance and pick it up on the way out.
The few times we stopped I found myself staring intently at the stream level as if it might attack at any moment.
We soon made from the darkness into the sun beam drenched Fisher street pot and prussiked to freedom up the rope we had rigged earlier.
It was a top trip and we very quickly found ourselves in the roadside tavern, where things went wrong and Guinness was consumed, luckily this time we had already informed everyone that there was no need to worry about us, as any lateness would clearly be down to Guinness.
All in all a very good weekend, Wendy cooked some fantastic breakfasts and the symposium was brilliant as usual, a great crowd and a relaxed event, add to that some amazing caving and you have yourself a fine excursion and one of my all time favorites.
Thanks to all.
-Gnomie
marquee!
