jollypudd
Member
Trip 24/06/23
I’m always looking to improve relations between my club and other student caving clubs which is why Ned Hopes (Cardiff) and I (Aberystwyth) have spent the last month together in France camping. Feeling a bit cave deprived and too tanned we set out to explore promising spots we found on Google Maps near where we’re staying (we’ve treated ourselves to a four star campsite next to Le Grand Lac, Jura).
Skeptical if France have a cave rescue, we decided not to do anything particularly stupid, especially since our 17 hour epic in Yorkshire last NCHECC which ended with me being hoisted from Lancaster Hole in the early hours of the morning (thank you so much CRO <3). We parked by a forest, after looking out anxiously for any farmer who might confront us in angry French, and did manage to find a path. Two people were eating lunch by a lookout point and one asked about the helmets and oversuits. The man, who spoke a little English, said the cave didn’t go very far, but we didn’t entirely believe him — perhaps mostly due to wishful thinking? We did reassure him though that someone knew where we were.
Without much hassle we found the first cave: ‘Grotte du Piley’.
Here’s the entrance:
We were pretty impressed! We still had no idea if the cave went very far, but it looked like it was worth putting our AV’s on for. There was water further into the cave but only in pools, not running: in wet weather there was evidently a nice waterfall spilling from the entrance.
Heading in, we soon gave up trying to keep our walking boots dry. It felt like a taste of home — we could so easily have been somewhere under South Wales! Edges of the streamway were scalloped, there were flowstone structures and the usual sticky mud, as well as freezing water (all of the lovely outside heat had quickly disappeared). To our surprise, the cave did carry on, and didn’t sump, choke, or end in any nasty belly crawls: though for many parts we did have to kneel and deeply regretted not finding a space for knee pads in Ned’s little Fiat Panda.
Dates were carved into the wall from explorers in the 1940s, and at a few points the passage ahead forked, giving us many paths to explore. Explore we did, until the way forward seemed too tight to be worth it. We found a tiny rift which we slid into and split up briefly to explore each end.
I stopped shuffling onwards when it looked as if I’d have to ruin the untouched mud to get much further, and Ned hadn’t made any great discoveries either, but we still had a grand time.
Having been underground for about forty five minutes, we decided to turn back. Next to a large flowstone egg structure Ned found a crusty penknife in the water. Half of the wooden handle had come away and calcite had fused tiny pebbles to the blade, but it was a fantastic find nevertheless. We were torn between leaving it (in the name of conservation) and taking it (also in the name of conservation). We ducked under bulging stals and waded a little more until the warmth hit us and we were out.
On Google Maps, the next cave seemed straightforward to get to, but on 3D terrain in the real world we had a large cliff to contend with which took much skirting about and skidding down patches of slanted forest. I ate little wild strawberries from the side of the path and Ned pushed over dead trees, and we finally reached a wide stream-bed. The rocks in the last cave’s riverbed were clad in moss, but this one was a little more watery and the rocks were all glued together as they often are inside a cave. We followed it up, thick foliage on both sides, feeling as though we were in Jurassic Park. This entrance was large just as the other one was, and better suited for taller people:
In this one, named ‘Grotte de la Nitrière’, we were met with the same gorgeous flowstone and even a column at one point. There had been candles placed into nooks in the passage here long ago — rivulets of hardened wax imitated the larger rock flows around it. The way on got nice and technical in a passage with a cross section like a keyhole, with water at the bottom which was deep, so we stayed high. When a plunge became unavoidable, we kept on, water up to waists, and then traversed more when we could in top tube until it seemed like we’d have to swim if we went any further.
Ned and I, satisfied with our explore, came back, passing a black toad which had tried to hide the first time we came past but didn’t bother the second time. As for other wildlife, we saw no bats, but plenty of long legged flies had made their home in both of the caves. There were hundreds (if not thousands) and many had made it really quite far in. We tried to ignore them.
Has anybody else had experience caving in France? Do you know of any cave rescue system or community of cavers? Would love to hear if anyone has any input in the comments!
I’m always looking to improve relations between my club and other student caving clubs which is why Ned Hopes (Cardiff) and I (Aberystwyth) have spent the last month together in France camping. Feeling a bit cave deprived and too tanned we set out to explore promising spots we found on Google Maps near where we’re staying (we’ve treated ourselves to a four star campsite next to Le Grand Lac, Jura).
Skeptical if France have a cave rescue, we decided not to do anything particularly stupid, especially since our 17 hour epic in Yorkshire last NCHECC which ended with me being hoisted from Lancaster Hole in the early hours of the morning (thank you so much CRO <3). We parked by a forest, after looking out anxiously for any farmer who might confront us in angry French, and did manage to find a path. Two people were eating lunch by a lookout point and one asked about the helmets and oversuits. The man, who spoke a little English, said the cave didn’t go very far, but we didn’t entirely believe him — perhaps mostly due to wishful thinking? We did reassure him though that someone knew where we were.
Without much hassle we found the first cave: ‘Grotte du Piley’.
Here’s the entrance:
We were pretty impressed! We still had no idea if the cave went very far, but it looked like it was worth putting our AV’s on for. There was water further into the cave but only in pools, not running: in wet weather there was evidently a nice waterfall spilling from the entrance.
Heading in, we soon gave up trying to keep our walking boots dry. It felt like a taste of home — we could so easily have been somewhere under South Wales! Edges of the streamway were scalloped, there were flowstone structures and the usual sticky mud, as well as freezing water (all of the lovely outside heat had quickly disappeared). To our surprise, the cave did carry on, and didn’t sump, choke, or end in any nasty belly crawls: though for many parts we did have to kneel and deeply regretted not finding a space for knee pads in Ned’s little Fiat Panda.
Dates were carved into the wall from explorers in the 1940s, and at a few points the passage ahead forked, giving us many paths to explore. Explore we did, until the way forward seemed too tight to be worth it. We found a tiny rift which we slid into and split up briefly to explore each end.
I stopped shuffling onwards when it looked as if I’d have to ruin the untouched mud to get much further, and Ned hadn’t made any great discoveries either, but we still had a grand time.
Having been underground for about forty five minutes, we decided to turn back. Next to a large flowstone egg structure Ned found a crusty penknife in the water. Half of the wooden handle had come away and calcite had fused tiny pebbles to the blade, but it was a fantastic find nevertheless. We were torn between leaving it (in the name of conservation) and taking it (also in the name of conservation). We ducked under bulging stals and waded a little more until the warmth hit us and we were out.
On Google Maps, the next cave seemed straightforward to get to, but on 3D terrain in the real world we had a large cliff to contend with which took much skirting about and skidding down patches of slanted forest. I ate little wild strawberries from the side of the path and Ned pushed over dead trees, and we finally reached a wide stream-bed. The rocks in the last cave’s riverbed were clad in moss, but this one was a little more watery and the rocks were all glued together as they often are inside a cave. We followed it up, thick foliage on both sides, feeling as though we were in Jurassic Park. This entrance was large just as the other one was, and better suited for taller people:
In this one, named ‘Grotte de la Nitrière’, we were met with the same gorgeous flowstone and even a column at one point. There had been candles placed into nooks in the passage here long ago — rivulets of hardened wax imitated the larger rock flows around it. The way on got nice and technical in a passage with a cross section like a keyhole, with water at the bottom which was deep, so we stayed high. When a plunge became unavoidable, we kept on, water up to waists, and then traversed more when we could in top tube until it seemed like we’d have to swim if we went any further.
Ned and I, satisfied with our explore, came back, passing a black toad which had tried to hide the first time we came past but didn’t bother the second time. As for other wildlife, we saw no bats, but plenty of long legged flies had made their home in both of the caves. There were hundreds (if not thousands) and many had made it really quite far in. We tried to ignore them.
Has anybody else had experience caving in France? Do you know of any cave rescue system or community of cavers? Would love to hear if anyone has any input in the comments!
