It had been another lengthy delay after our last trip doing some enlargement at the bottom, but Mark R and I were finally returning. The trip through Rowter never disappoints, and we were pleased to see the fixed ropes were mainly in pretty good condition with the exception of the big loop leading up to Hourglass Aven, which had a big nick at the top. It was hard to see how that could have occurred, but thankfully it’s been (just about) tied out.
We started doing a proper survey at the Party Sausage (the previous one having used a highly problematic disto that kept dumping loads of data to the phone). Reaching To Boldly Go, we donned our cheap cags and set off down, both having forgotten what a horrible little section of passage this is. To our surprise we’d left the pitch rigged on our last visit. Surveying our way down was pretty horrid, made worse by the loose rock, and things weren’t too much better at the bottom. Despite the tent we’d made being in surprisingly good condition, it was still almost impossible to escape the water.
Rowter elevation facing north with the "new" bits circled.
We elected to survey up the parallel aven first, which was the first time Mark R had been up it. Given its relative tranquillity and lack of name, we opted to call it Haven Aven. It looks like it might widen beyond where it narrows at the top, and was taking a draught. It may be that it rejoins the main shaft, but you never know...
We returned to survey down to the crawl at the bottom, which is the lowest point in this part of the cave. It was so long since we'd visited that there was some dispute over how we'd left it. Thankfully my version (that we'd had a go at capping but not got very far) wasn't the last trip whereas Mark's version (that we'd had a go enlarging it with something a bit more substantial) was right, and it looked almost passable.
I had a bash with a hammer before attempting to pass through what was now a feasible-looking squeeze, although not heading towards anything too enticing. Unfortunately it was just sloping downhill enough that it felt a bit to committing to be pushing down it. Mark then did a bit more capping while I attempted to stem the slow but steady collapse of the rubble slope leading down to the crawl, pleased to be wearing both our jackets.
Not long later I headed in for another look, now able to get near the end of the crawl to some loose blocks. I wobbled some around and was pleased to hear them falling down below. A bit more poking later and I could see down a ~1m drop with an enticing slot into darkness! Certainly unexpected. The issue now was the blocks ahead, which I was failing to dislodge. A reverse, a repeat of the crawl feet-first followed by kicking the boulders gave a satisfying thud, before I reversed and once again went through head-first. We'd certainly got more than I'd been expecting, although expectations had been virtually nil. A short drop down led to a slot through which I could see a widening rift dropping down 3 or 4 m further. The entrance looked touch and go though.
Mark sounded keen to follow so I attempted the squeeze down. It was certainly tight, but just about manageable, and I found myself in a reasonably sizeable rift. Mark appeared at the top and I took a look for a way on, ducking down fully under the falling water ahead of me to look at the pool at the base. This initially looked like a miserable sump, but on closer inspection it wasn't possible to see the end, so it may just be a miserable (and probably too-tight) crawl. We were past our turnaround time, though, so that would be a treat for another day. It wasn't the most significant breakthrough we've had in Rowter, but a real bonus on what was nominally a surveying trip.
Rowter elevation facing approx. west with the "new" bits circled.
I set off first, having agreed to get well clear of the loose area before Mark followed, but half way up Split Infinitive I heard a thud and felt my hauling cord go slack. Sh!t. There was a huge crash below as my bag plummeted to the floor. At least it wasn't the bag with the drill and disto in... Thankfully it had missed Mark and the only harm done was him having to prussik with both bags. In this instance it didn't seem to be total negligence that had resulted in the failure - the cord above and below the break looked OK, and it had failed in one of the knots without much in the way of apparent wear.
With that excitement over, we had a smooth trip out along the Ice Cream Trail. We had a bit of a snack by the sump before the last section out. After the day's surprise mini-breakthrough (and the bag drop incident), little did we suspect that the most memorable part of the trip was still to come.
In what might have been a Rowter first, Mark and I were still in balaclavas. I was certainly the wettest I'd been on a Rowter trip (with the exception of our sump-pump experiments). I went up the entrance first, and reached the lid roughly as Mark was reaching the rebelay. Bracing myself for the cold of the wind I could hear above, I pushed the lid open above, or at least I tried to. It was totally solid. "Mark!", I called down, "I'm not joking...the lid is jammed shut...". Some expletives followed from us both as I did my best to force the lid upwards.
I made myself reasonably safe at the top and called Mark up to see if I was just being particularly stupid or weak. He pointed out that there was no harm in yelling on the off-chance a farmer was about or could hear, so the next few minutes were interjected by fruitless cries for help while I continued trying to do something with the grill above. Mark couldn't budge it either, and a lot of options rapidly came to mind and were discussed. We could go and get a crowbar we knew was by the sump and hope to bend the grill enough to reach the latch...but that was 100 m down and back up. We could head down and wait for call-out, but that wasn’t at all appealing, particularly given neither of us was very warm. Another option was capping: we had all the kit in our bags, and a few well placed caps in the side of the shaft lid ought to either dislodge the catch or give us access to it. This was the most appealing option at the time, but in hindsight the prospect of capping at head-height whilst hanging 70 m off the floor doesn't seem too nice. We figured a sensible start might be to belt the lid with the lump hammer, perhaps with the hope that we might be able to break a weld or few. For a bit of security and comfort we attached the bags to the bar, rigged a second rope so we could have a bit of space, and dug out the hammer. Don't drop it!
Still pondering all the possible options, Mark started with some exploratory smacks of the grill. Watching him, I was not optimistic. The grill seemed completely solid and it looked virtually impossible to get a decent angle. But no sooner had I processed that thought, the lid popped open, much to our relief. We quickly surfaced, caring little at that point for the freezing wind, just delighted not to be either trapped waiting for DCRO to undo the lid, or to be nervously capping the shaft cap from underneath. The only thing that saved us resorting to more drastic measures was that the lid was only held in place by the corner of the latch. Somebody made a very good/fortuitous decision only latching it half way!
A very enjoyable and eventful day, although one that we were very pleased wasn't extended further.
