Makita Drill- Perspectives on Aggy

[Mark R]

Perspectives on Aggy

A trip report of 6 authors, each section from a different perspective and each written in complete isolation from one another?

Ben E- As the tender underbelly of my car ground painfully on the drizzle moistened Welsh rocks on the inside of the hairpin bend, and with the Whitewalls caving hut in sight, many things crossed my mind. Such as: Do cars feel pain? Is it always this wet in Wales? Why have I agreed to go caving again? Chiefly among these thoughts was ?What am I going to do in the 3 hours between now and when the key to the hut arrives with Chris Haigh?
After spending 10 minutes channeling my inner chav and probing the security of the hut, to no avail, my prayers were answered when Mark Simms arrived. Reminiscing about the China Caves Project had only just begun when a kindly CSS member granted us access to the homely rooms, and gritty floors, of the caving hut and hence the evening could begin proper. In due course, and with the arrival of yet more Marks and eventually Chris and Liz, a heady concoction of Beer, G&Ts and good cheer saw us retire to bed with excitement and trepidation for the following days underground exploration.

Mark R- We got up feeling generally OK I think.. Certainly once the bacon egg and sausage sandwiches were done everything was just fine. I can?t remember what time it was that we were eventually all ready but after several cups of tea we were assembled outside the hut and fairly raring to go.

Chris H- After faffing about getting some pre-caving photos we headed toward Aggy. Having only ever done Daren Cilau before it was a change of direction and a very pleasant one that had stunning morning views out over the valleys of the Black Mountains.
Checking the sign around the corner we looked into the distance to see if we could see any evidence of our destination. We plodded on along the nice flat track until we reached a small mound. Looking around there was still no sign of the cave so we continued about 20m further on to find the obvious gate tucked under the escarpment. We opened the lock and pulled open the door letting out a cloud of mosquitos. Lizzie eagerly went inside while the rest of us faffed some more with helmets, t-shirts and watered the nearby bushes.
Heading inside it was straight to crawling. Fantastic. Nothing better for your knees than crawling along on all fours. I love crawling. After 10-15m there is the first left turn which immediately opens up to stooping/walking height passage. That's better. At least for my diminutive height the stoop is nowhere near as painful as for those in the group over 6' tall.

Mark S- After following along at the back of the group from the entrance, I heard some comments indicating some confusion ahead. Having made it clear how little I remembered from my one and only visit to Aggy previously, I was a little surprised to hear my advice being sought on the correct way through. Thankfully the cool draught (almost as good as the Eldon one!) indicated the way on, through more passage that I had no recollection of. Following my nose through the incredibly worn 1st choke, we were soon sitting by the cairn enjoying the dimensions of the Main Passage.

Lizzie H- After cooling down marginally we headed off along the big wide passage, not appreciating that this was the last time we?d really be able to move freely for another 4 hours. We climbed over boulders and ambled up some mud steps that had been carved into the passage floor (a seemingly innocuous aid that later appeared a cruel prank lulling innocent cavers into thinking that a gently gradiated slope was the hardest challenge the cave would present) and turned left into the meanders.
Progress was quick, even as the rift became increasingly small, until we reached a point where the passage widened but the floor dropped away. The route onwards involved bracing your knees against the walls at the top of the rift and quickly shuffling forward through a hole about 4 metres away. Ben went first making it look easy and I went next, immediately and comedically sliding straight down. After several attempts to climb up through the onwards hole it was decided that Luke should pass over my head to give me a hand. Like Ben he had no trouble and was soon trying in vain to help pull me through the hole. By this point Mark had arrived and I was left flailing like a rat in a barrel as he stared down from one side of the hole and Luke the other ? (in describing my attempts to climb out) ?well that didn?t look completely energy sapping? ? thanks Mark!  Eventually tiring of my antics Mark climbed down to create a step for me with his knees which ended with him essentially just lifting me out of the rift and climbing straight out behind me with no difficulty whatsoever. Sigh.

Luke N- Once Lizzie was freed from ?the pit? we continued to press southwards into the unknown. The meandering passage maintained high levels of unpleasantness for a good while. We squeezed onwards in a rift, which varied in height but was fairly consistent in its width which I would estimate to be about 2cm narrower than however wide my chest is. I had to stop and think on a number of occasions about how to negotiate various bits of cave.
At one particularly awkward corner Lizzie voiced concern that the footprints on the passage floor had become notably sparser, and we joked at the prospect of pushing such an un-enjoyable passage and later realising that we?d come the wrong way and would have to do it all again?
After a good 45 minutes of suffering, Ben, who was leading us, reached a constriction which was significantly smaller than most of his anatomy. He commented on its undesirable effects on his unmentionables, and after a brief interlude declared that it was too tight. We paused for a while and reflected on our folly, before we all reluctantly accepted that we probably had missed a turning, and that we were going to have to go back the way we came.
Fortunately there was just about enough room where we were to turn around, albeit with as little dignity as is probably possible. Thus began the long wriggle back until we could find another route.
After about ten minutes we returned to a point where the V shaped rift was quite tall ? about 4-5 metres. On the way in we had all managed to cross it without much by way of complications, and so on returning to it I wasn?t overly concerned. I rounded the corner on the approach to it just in time to see Mark?s wellies disappear effortlessly round the corner on the far side of the obstacle, so I was lulled even further into a false sense of security. The rift at this point narrowed in the middle so we had to stay high to pass at the widest point at the top. I managed to get up to the top again and align myself horizontally. I moved forward and then suddenly dropped uncontrollably into the rift below. My fatigued, dehydrated brain had mistaken a shadow for a sturdy hand-hold, and I had found myself wedged by my chest having fallen a good metre or so. It hurt! I tried to free myself, but felt completely and utterly stuck. I felt my breathing rate go up and I made a conscious effort to calm down. I took a deep breath in, which was fine, and breathed out, which was less fine. Every time I exhaled, the drop in my chest diameter meant I slipped a little further into the rift and became a little more stuck. This was less than ideal. I managed to de-panic myself and wriggled back to a more vertical position, so my head was just below Lizzie who had now caught up and was lying horizontally in the rift behind me. I was really jammed and struggled to keep forcing my way back up to where I needed to be. After a few minutes of undignified panic and encouragement from Lizzie and Chris however, I finally made it back up into the rift. Sweaty and bruised and more than a little embarrassed, I pressed on. Before too long we had gotten back to the point where there was a whole in the floor ? The right way on to the southern stream passage!
I had had enough for one day however, so Lizzie and I began our long slog back to the surface, and left the rest of the boys to badger their way on to the stream.

Lizzie H- Whilst the others headed downstream Luke and I took a leisurely stroll (ha!) out of the cave. Compared to the tight passage we?d ended up in the rift felt wonderfully roomy and we took many breaks to discuss all the drinks we?d have when we were finally free (water, tea, coke, wine, G&T). Luke couldn?t resist sampling the cave water and at one point I thought he?d passed out when I came across him face first in the stream way. We eventually returned to the big passage we?d arrived at 5 hours earlier and found the sign that had marked our point of entry. It was at this point we realised we had absolutely no recollection of the way in besides getting incredibly sweaty and there being a metal bar at some point. Thus followed 30 minutes of ?it might be this way, it?s quite worn, yes I DEFINITELY remember this, this doesn?t go, turn around? until we found the right way on and eventually the fabled metal bar, our shining beacon. We continued on to the exit taking every right fork and noticing the water level had risen significantly while we?d been underground. When we got back to the visitors book near the entrance I was half expecting the other guys to have beaten us out as I thought we?d been so slow but they hadn?t so we left a note so they?d know we were safe (although later we found out they?d completely missed this and thought we were horribly inconsiderate). We exited the cave into warm, damp air and revelled in the feeling of not having rocks touching at least 83% of our body at all time. Simple pleasures.

Ben E- Upon descent into the water filled lower streamway the 4 tired, wet and bruised, remaining members of the Buttered Badgers took a moment to wonder how much more enthusiastic they would have been without having put themselves through the last 3 hours of super squeezy mega gratey death caving. With memories of the upper passage fresh in their minds, progress downstream was strangely easy going. After what seemed like an eternity of neck pain inducing stooping and grovelling in the icy streamway the painful prostration to the cave Gods paid dividends. Hark! A plastic Thunderbirds cup wired to the wall, and a fountain of life giving water gushing from the wall. Rejuvenated by the elixir of life, our band of grateful pilgrims pushed on into the unforgiving darkness accompanied by the ominous rising crescendo of the relentless Welsh current flowing between their feet.

Mark S- Despite now being in the correct passage, morale seemed to be at an all-trip-low. I think we were all a little annoyed at our foolishness that had become crystal clear with our 20:20 hindsight vision. Ah well, it's all character building or something. Mark R, presumably suffering from the lack of scaffolding to carry, was muttering steadily about retiring from sport caving. His frustration appeared to peak when he announced that he was fed up of listening to himself moaning, evidently unaware of the irony of his exclamation. Onwards and downwards. I was sure a few hundred more metres of crawling and stooping would cheer him up.

... part 2 to follow

 

[Mark R]

Part 2...

Luke N- After Lizzie and I had reached the more than welcome warmth and daylight of the outside world, we took a moment to compose ourselves, and began the short walk in the rain back to the hut.
The walk back was interrupted only by a walker and her dog. She was generally unfriendly and I cast my doubts on her parentage until Lizzie pointed out that we looked like a pair of tramps who had just beaten some other tramps to the death and stolen very expensive head-torches.
We arrived back at the hut, showered (which was bliss), chatted to the locals (which was tolerable)and began dinner prep. Lizzie at this point began her customary panic that everyone who we had left in the cave had immediately died. I distracted her by discussing all the possible ways to die in a cave, until she threw things at me and told me to shut up?so we went to the pub for a bit.

Chris H- We finally reached the landmark Waterfall chamber. A small drop over the waterfall was aided by a knotted rope which looked a bit worn where it fed through the maillons. We descended in turn and continued along the stream way. The going wasn't difficult but just awkward with sections of passage that were wide but required stooping, then not so wide and required you to align your body to the shape of the walls to aid progress, then low sections crawling in and out of the stream. Tiredness and maybe delirium had crept in after the exertions of the Upper Southern streamway section. The low stream sections were taken really slowly to enjoy the cold water creeping into my wellies, AV and furry suit. Cooling relief. I'd have been quite happy to just lie down in the water, cool off and maybe have a quick cat nap. No such luck. The Marks were way ahead and even Ben's "i'm running in economy mode" seemed too quick for my befuddled mind. Mark R and Mark S stopped occasionally to let Ben and I catch up; we were never actually that far behind. We started to look into the ever increasing height of the ceiling. We were looking out for the rope that led up to the Priory Road. We spotted a convenient boulder lying across the stream and to the right spotted the rope and a short traverse.

Mark R- Leaving the stream behind made a nice change, there?s only so much stooping and crawling in water that one can take after several hours of thrutching. Sadly, my relief was short-lived as Chris read out the description for the next section. It had phrases like ?low? and ?stooping? and ?occasionally able to stand??. Marvellous.
We headed off leaving the sound of water behind us and began finding our way through the generally low, wide, dry passages. By now I was boiling to death, which was ironic because I distinctly remember thinking, on the way down the streamway, about something my uncle used to say. ?I?d rather boil my head than??. In my case the phrase that followed this was ?do this again?. It?s fair to say that at this point I?d pretty much made up my mind that the trip so far had generally all been shit and I was never caving in Wales again. With the exception of the magnificent big passage near the entrance there was very little that I could genuinely say was enjoyable for me. Perhaps I was just tired after a long week at work, perhaps I just wasn?t in tip top condition or perhaps I?m just getting old. Whatever the reason I?d decided that crawling for 6 hours with the occasional light ?relief? of a cheeky stoop every now and then just didn?t constitute a good caving trip.
Luckily for me the next 30 or 40 minutes or so degenerated into a series of crawls, squeezes, the odd contortion and generally forcing my way through the cave. The series of 8 digs that took us the last section of the way to our objective was an undeniably impressive effort but never the less still rubbish in my current frame of mind. Finally, and after much mental grumbling we arrived as a small rift on the left of the passage which Mark S wriggled up through first.

Mark S- Having completely lost count of the number of digs by this point I continued at the front, knowing that formations in the roof of Trafalgar Passage would indicate the rift through to Corkscrew Chamber. Sure enough, as the roof rose, a Daren Drum marked the junction with a small rift on the left. I poked my head in, and after seeing a glint of calcite ahead, decided to stop at the junction while the others came through the last few crawls. Once we'd met up, I slid my way up into the chamber. I knew exactly what to expect, having seen plenty of pictures of the Courtesan, but pleasingly photos can never ever do these places justice. Corkscrew Chamber certainly deserves its description as one of the best decorated sections of cave in the UK.

Chris H- I came out of the tubes to find a small chamber, a Daren drum and  Mark and Ben stood waiting. The other Mark had already disappeared through a sandy slot. Not realising where we were at first I just heard a ?this is awful? comment come from the slot. Mark went next and said something similar. At this point I twigged that I was close to seeing something spectacular. Ben climbed up and made a comment and then there was silence as they took in the sight. I got to work getting the camera kit ready to snap some shots. It had been ages since I?d done any underground and was worried that I?d all turn out crap. I immediately dismissed setting up the tripod and looked up to see three faces looking at me and probably thinking ?Bastard, we just lugged that all the way in and he?s not going to use it. What a Bastard! That?s the last time I carry any kit for him.? I took some shots, couldn?t get the flash guns to light it up as I had in mind. Did some rearranging to find something that worked then got Ben to pose for some shots next to the Courtesan. I think he enjoyed it. A couple of the shots turned out okay but whether they are good enough for the effort of getting the kit there I?m not sure. They certainly won?t win any Hidden Earth competitions.

Ben E- As their bodies protested being squashed through another tight squeeze of bruise-inducing rock, the 4 Badgers finally gazed upon the courtesan. A sight for sore eyes, and sore bodies! A small passage extended into the darkness with calcite helictites sprouting from every orifice. Delicate and fragile aragonite crystal spikes clung to the wall. Every step the Badgers took was tentative and selectively placed as to not risk damaging the formations. As the Badgers stood in awe, they pondered which formation looked most like a dildo, and all agreed, they were all too pretty to put up your bottom.
As we turned our backs on the delicate formations of the courtesan, and committed our bodies to yet more punishment in the hands and sandy tunnels of mother Earth, a warm feeling grew in our hearts. We were on our way out! Only 8 digs, endless flat out crawls and kilometers of stooping lay between us and the exit. At least we were going in the right direction. The sandy tunnels and flat out crawls didn?t seem as bad on the exit. Despite the low energy levels, we moved quickly towards the exit. The endless stooping of Southern Stream Way seemed to go by with a numb blur, helped by the prospect of a Thunderbirds mug of refreshing cave water and a mouth full of Malt Loaf to fuel us to the end of the cave

Chris H- I now had wet underpants having been sat in the water whilst I swigged water from the mug of magical youth. The 'lets chip' and 'Foxtrot Oscar' phrases had been used to signal our departure from this source of replenishment from which we had all benefitted. Ben mentioned something about it only being a few meters from the cup to the climb up out of the stream way. I had zero recollection of how far we'd come downstream to this point, in fact if someone had asked my name I'm not sure how i'd have responded. I took the lead which at first was disappointed about. There is something nice about following someone else boots when you feel so tired. But this had the effect of sharpening my mind. Ben had earlier drawn an arrow on the wall at the point where we needed to climb up.
I walked, stooped, scraped myself upstream and for the first 50m or so I was looking out for the arrow. Nothing. Ben had fallen behind a little, I could only just see his light, but I continued searching thinking that if i'd missed it one of the others would recognise the arrow and shout me back. The stream seemed to continue for some time around little meanders, deeper sections, climbs over rocks, crawls under rocks and then I spotted it. Ben was behind me seconds later. I reached up for a hand hold and grabbed the one I'd stepped on as I'd descended earlier in the day. It wobbled in my hand. Nope!
Feet against one wall back against the other I shuffled up. I asked Ben to pass me the bags so I could transfer them onto the shelf beside me. I climbed up the rest of the way and continued on through the small passages heading back to the larger chamber. I seemed to switch to auto pilot at this point and spent most of my time ricocheting from one wall to the other literally pin balling along the passage. There were a couple of awkward bits, one where there was no floor and the empty slot below was big enough to easily fall in. The walls seemed much more slippery and it was an effort to make forward progress. The next was the ?hole? where Lizzie had got stuck on the way in. I tried to use the same technique of making myself as large as possible and spread eagling across it but gravity is a bitch and the closer to the other side I got the lower I got. I went all out and launched myself at the wedged boulder at the other side and with mother nature tugging on my tired limbs I clung on. Caught my breath and heaved myself up and over.  Ben caught up with me and called back to mark that Chris just seemed to magic his way across it. Grunts and groans ensued as I continued on along the passage and before long reached some much more pleasant walking in the big chamber.

Mark R- Reaching the big passage on the return journey was a great relief, it meant I could cave without having to touch 2 or more walls at the same time and the parts of my body not meant for resting weight on or for repeated impacts with hard surfaces could have a break. It also marked the last piece of cave through which I wold have to carry the bag before giving it back to Ben, as was our earlier agreement. The malt loaf and water stop we had at the inlet in the southern streamway had been long, long overdue. Until that point I had been running on empty for too long. Cheered by the thought of unloading the tackle bag for the last 20 minutes or so of caving I really enjoyed the big passage again and the subsequent series of gentle obstacles out of the cave. I definitely had a mental second wind and began enjoying the trip, it was nice of the cave though to give my left shoulder a parting ?kiss? with a spike of rock just metres before I crawled out of the gate.

Mark S- Completely forgetting that it was summer, I was puzzled when I approached the gate as to why someone had come to the entrance with a torch to see if we were OK. We weren't that late! Quickly realising it was daylight, I decided not to inform my colleagues of my confusion and sat enjoying the evening light. The trip had been an odd one. Farcical? Yes. Frustrating? Yes. Enjoyable? Definitely. The main disappointment was that the cete had been split, but we were soon reunited back at Whitewalls, around a table of tea, beer, wine, chilli, tacos, guacamole and nachos, very kindly prepared by Lizzie and Luke. After finishing the food, entertaining a couple of CSS members by recounting our escapades in Upper Southern Stream Passage, it was certainly time for bed.

Mark R- To conclude,- formations- breath taking, the rest of the cave, for me, on that day, crap. Worth the effort?.. I suppose that depends if Chris got a nice photo.

Ben E- A short summing up: A day of cursing aside, I actually enjoyed the trip?. Just don?t ask me to go back any time soon....

Lizzie H- It was an exhausting, and at times a very panic-inducing, caving experience but the trip down Agy really re-ignited my love of caving. It has been a long time since I?ve done a trip that has really pushed me physically and mentally but those are the trips that make me want to do bigger and harder caves that challenge me more and let me see amazing things. Plus doing it with some of my best and most hilarious friends, who I know I can rely on to help me out of a tight spot (pun intended), will always keep me coming back for more.

Sunday.
Chris H- We loitered around completing a special assignment on Sunday morning. Mark and Luke disappeared back up North. Ben Lizzie, Marks S and myself hung around for  a walk along the top of the escarpment and took a look in Eglyws Faen before heading back to the hut for a final cup of tea, some biscuits and then headed home. 

 

[Clive G]

Having written a caving guide to Aggy, not yet published, I thought you'd found a new bit of the cave at first!

Innominate Passage or Sandstone Passage, as Upper Southern Stream Passage was originally known, was first explored to the further reaches on the weekend of 2nd-3rd January 1960 by Paul Hartwright of Hereford Caving Club and Julia James of Chelsea Speleological Society, along with Jim Gregory and other members of Malvern Speleogical Group. Did you find the chamber around halfway along which has a powerful reasonant frequency, if someone hums at the right frequency in there?

Julia returned to Julia's Passage with C.S.S. members Bill Maxwell and Fred Topliffe on 6th February 1960 and, after digging out a squeeze at the end, found the present final aven.

So, you've been in good company.

I worked with Jim Gregory at the BBC Pebble Mill Broadcasting Centre in Birmingham during the 1970s-80s when he told me about this exploration. On 21st November 1986, almost 30 years ago now, I checked out the final aven with Rodney ?Bomber? Beaumont. Bomber was one of the porters for Martyn Farr's first dive into the downstream Terminal Sump to push Sump 3 on 4th May 1974 when this was the longest partially explored sump in Britain. Martyn managed to pass Sump 3 during the push and discover Maytime, which is now also accessible from the passages you visited at the lower end of Southern Stream Passage.

 

[ianball11]

I very much enjoyed reading this, thank you Buttered Badgers.