Cumbrian Neil
Member
Round One.
July 10th promised to be a clear day with respect to the forecast. Perfect. So off onto the Easegill fells we went. There were five of us in total ready to enter Top Sink and hopefully exit further down the system. In my mind the Greater Easegill Traverse, Top sink to Pippikin, was fixed firmly in my mind. Three of the team planned on exiting the system via the easier entrance of Link. Clear weather suggested that the Wormway and other flood prone areas would be open with little threat of flooding. Two years ago, when I had last been caving, the weather had not allowed such an adventure. On that day, water thundered down the 88 foot pitch like an angry cataract of boiling fury. Since then, in my mind?s eye, I had dreamt of the assault on the Easegill Traverse. Today, with a clear forecast, was to be very different than two years ago.
We reached Top Sink under clear skies and entered the system under the impression that the pitches would be rigged. They had been a few months earlier when two of the team had been in the system. The rope we found at the first pitch ended half way down. A few exclamatory remarks were heard, but the ever resourceful Simon attached our rope to the one in situ and the game was on.
I have warm memories of exploring the ramifications of Easegill and the boulder clambering. This day was no different from any other in the 90s when the majority of my caving career occurred. We made easy progress through the upper levels of the system passing Cornes and Monster Caverns. The eerie silence in these older passages has always made me feel humble. The deadened silence always makes me respect the early pioneers who pushed onward in this system, many of who have now gone on to the greater things. The Minarets, with the long destroyed Angel?s Wing, how much progress have we made toward conserving the uniqueness of caves. We reached the entrance to the Stake Pot Series and began making our way toward the 88. On this day the 88 was almost dry in nature. Even the stream through the Wormway was almost dry. Today was a good day, but we progressed rapidly eventually finding ourselves on our hands and knees for the last section. The Wormway is an ominous place. You feel much like you are in a drain (which, in reality, you are). Receding water lines are etched into the mud banks. Finding yourself at the bottom of Echo Aven lifts the worry of what the weather may be doing on the surface.
Up Echo Aven we went with an exit off the pitch that is a little tricky. A couple of wriggly flat out crawls exit you abruptly into Hilton Hall. Finally, after 19 years of caving, I have traversed from one side of Easegill to the other. It feels good. Happy, I know have choices. The rope down Link Pot sits next to me. A pint in the Marton Arms could only be an hour away. Simon asks, ?What do you want to do?? ?Go on,? I say. Eric, Arthur, and Rick exit the system if not for a few complications. Eric, it seems, has spend too much time in open water where constrictions are few and a portly frame has few issues. The top of the entrance pitch in Link holds onto him briefly, giving him a squeeze, letting him know it was good to see him underground again.
Simon and I head off through a crack in the wall and soon find ourselves in the Wallows. A water passage best navigated on one?s back, head first, with your helmet pushed out in front. Simon goes through easily; the body sized tube seems to hold me tight, cold water runs down the neck of my oversuit. I get through and feel the thrill of caving again, for the second time in a day I am in passages that eluded me all those years ago. The Muddy Wallows are sloppy; why is this cave such a muddy, goopy place? At last we exit into Dusty Junction. The Mistral and its mined entrance offer yet another escape before last orders. Simon again offered me an out. I decided that after 8 hours I really should give Pippikin a look. I was tired, but could I make it all the way and do the trip pure as I had read in very old Descent issue? Did I have the energy?
Pippikin Pot had always been one of those caves that I shied away from even at my caving peak. Tight caves and a bigger bone structure don?t seem to go well together. Having spent sometime ?snagged? in the entrance to Stran?s Gill (ironically after passing the tight bit); I tend to be cautious around tight caves that may try to ensnare me. To cut a long tale short, I did reach the Stemple Pitch and did look into the squeeze at the top of the pitch. Simon looked back at me through the squeeze and gave me encouragement. He?s a good guy, a good friend, always willing to entertain my whims. But by this time I was out of energy, beaten down by nine plus hours of caving. If I did get into trouble in the maneuver, I would be in trouble. Flexibility is not on my side anymore. With tighter squeezes above I realized that the cave had won? or did my choice to exit through Mistral only create a win-win situation? I was disappointed in myself, but happy that I at least gave it a shot. Almost, but not quite.
Round Two.
A few beers, a little sleep and a chat with old friends opened the day off to a good start. July 11th continued to hold a good forecast. Ireby II was the goal. I?d read about it in dark rooms of my home in Northern Wisconsin using a Petzl Tikka as a light source, hoping for the day that I would look upon the lofty heights of Jupiter Cavern. We, Simon, Arthur, Rick, Degsy, Iain and myself took the Shadow Route the bottom. Some fellows from north of the border were laddering the system with replicas of the plank and hemp ladders of yesteryear. We reached the bottom quickly and made our way up to the Skylight Passage. What an impressive piece of engineering this is. Exactly how long is the passage? My thanks go out to those whose continued efforts made it possible for me to enter Jupiter Cavern. I wonder where the water comes from. What more is there to find in the system?
Round Three.
On the night of July 11th it began to rain making the walk back to Stacksteads very wet. When the morning arrived the rivers were swollen and an easy cave was sought. Dirty gear needed to be washed off. Simpson?s Pot seemed to be an ideal cave for the job. The rain had diminished and the skies were clear. By now I was weary. Two long trips in the previous two days had worn me out. Simpson?s, with its watery pitches is always a lively place, but today the water thundered down the pitches, echoing their energy in their relentless descent. The duck provided some entertainment. Did you know that you can block the exit to the pool so that the water level rises dramatically! Diane, Iain, and Arthur got the brunt of my engineering. Slit Pot seemed a little tighter than it used to be, but that may just have been lost technique on my part! The final cascade in the system before entering Philosopher?s Crawl was incredibly damp. The crawls below weren?t overly full, but the stream in the mastercave was moving quickly. The force of the water pushing at the back of your legs and trying to make your descent quicker and less controlled that what it should be. On reaching the downstream sump the water wasn?t as high as what I have seen it in the past. We exited the cave after only a few hours, gear clean, and my own caving appetite satisfied at least for the moment.
Epilogue.
What good few days were had up in the Dales. It is great to see that discoveries continue to be made across the country. Thanks to all of you who are active in continued exploration and discovery. I need to work out a lot more. My tick list of caves that I want to do never seems to get shorter. As I sit here, Marilyn, the Far Waters, Boxhead Pot, and number of other caves call me from afar. Surveys and journals scatter the floor and a copy of ?Underground Adventure? awaits to be reread.
July 10th promised to be a clear day with respect to the forecast. Perfect. So off onto the Easegill fells we went. There were five of us in total ready to enter Top Sink and hopefully exit further down the system. In my mind the Greater Easegill Traverse, Top sink to Pippikin, was fixed firmly in my mind. Three of the team planned on exiting the system via the easier entrance of Link. Clear weather suggested that the Wormway and other flood prone areas would be open with little threat of flooding. Two years ago, when I had last been caving, the weather had not allowed such an adventure. On that day, water thundered down the 88 foot pitch like an angry cataract of boiling fury. Since then, in my mind?s eye, I had dreamt of the assault on the Easegill Traverse. Today, with a clear forecast, was to be very different than two years ago.
We reached Top Sink under clear skies and entered the system under the impression that the pitches would be rigged. They had been a few months earlier when two of the team had been in the system. The rope we found at the first pitch ended half way down. A few exclamatory remarks were heard, but the ever resourceful Simon attached our rope to the one in situ and the game was on.
I have warm memories of exploring the ramifications of Easegill and the boulder clambering. This day was no different from any other in the 90s when the majority of my caving career occurred. We made easy progress through the upper levels of the system passing Cornes and Monster Caverns. The eerie silence in these older passages has always made me feel humble. The deadened silence always makes me respect the early pioneers who pushed onward in this system, many of who have now gone on to the greater things. The Minarets, with the long destroyed Angel?s Wing, how much progress have we made toward conserving the uniqueness of caves. We reached the entrance to the Stake Pot Series and began making our way toward the 88. On this day the 88 was almost dry in nature. Even the stream through the Wormway was almost dry. Today was a good day, but we progressed rapidly eventually finding ourselves on our hands and knees for the last section. The Wormway is an ominous place. You feel much like you are in a drain (which, in reality, you are). Receding water lines are etched into the mud banks. Finding yourself at the bottom of Echo Aven lifts the worry of what the weather may be doing on the surface.
Up Echo Aven we went with an exit off the pitch that is a little tricky. A couple of wriggly flat out crawls exit you abruptly into Hilton Hall. Finally, after 19 years of caving, I have traversed from one side of Easegill to the other. It feels good. Happy, I know have choices. The rope down Link Pot sits next to me. A pint in the Marton Arms could only be an hour away. Simon asks, ?What do you want to do?? ?Go on,? I say. Eric, Arthur, and Rick exit the system if not for a few complications. Eric, it seems, has spend too much time in open water where constrictions are few and a portly frame has few issues. The top of the entrance pitch in Link holds onto him briefly, giving him a squeeze, letting him know it was good to see him underground again.
Simon and I head off through a crack in the wall and soon find ourselves in the Wallows. A water passage best navigated on one?s back, head first, with your helmet pushed out in front. Simon goes through easily; the body sized tube seems to hold me tight, cold water runs down the neck of my oversuit. I get through and feel the thrill of caving again, for the second time in a day I am in passages that eluded me all those years ago. The Muddy Wallows are sloppy; why is this cave such a muddy, goopy place? At last we exit into Dusty Junction. The Mistral and its mined entrance offer yet another escape before last orders. Simon again offered me an out. I decided that after 8 hours I really should give Pippikin a look. I was tired, but could I make it all the way and do the trip pure as I had read in very old Descent issue? Did I have the energy?
Pippikin Pot had always been one of those caves that I shied away from even at my caving peak. Tight caves and a bigger bone structure don?t seem to go well together. Having spent sometime ?snagged? in the entrance to Stran?s Gill (ironically after passing the tight bit); I tend to be cautious around tight caves that may try to ensnare me. To cut a long tale short, I did reach the Stemple Pitch and did look into the squeeze at the top of the pitch. Simon looked back at me through the squeeze and gave me encouragement. He?s a good guy, a good friend, always willing to entertain my whims. But by this time I was out of energy, beaten down by nine plus hours of caving. If I did get into trouble in the maneuver, I would be in trouble. Flexibility is not on my side anymore. With tighter squeezes above I realized that the cave had won? or did my choice to exit through Mistral only create a win-win situation? I was disappointed in myself, but happy that I at least gave it a shot. Almost, but not quite.
Round Two.
A few beers, a little sleep and a chat with old friends opened the day off to a good start. July 11th continued to hold a good forecast. Ireby II was the goal. I?d read about it in dark rooms of my home in Northern Wisconsin using a Petzl Tikka as a light source, hoping for the day that I would look upon the lofty heights of Jupiter Cavern. We, Simon, Arthur, Rick, Degsy, Iain and myself took the Shadow Route the bottom. Some fellows from north of the border were laddering the system with replicas of the plank and hemp ladders of yesteryear. We reached the bottom quickly and made our way up to the Skylight Passage. What an impressive piece of engineering this is. Exactly how long is the passage? My thanks go out to those whose continued efforts made it possible for me to enter Jupiter Cavern. I wonder where the water comes from. What more is there to find in the system?
Round Three.
On the night of July 11th it began to rain making the walk back to Stacksteads very wet. When the morning arrived the rivers were swollen and an easy cave was sought. Dirty gear needed to be washed off. Simpson?s Pot seemed to be an ideal cave for the job. The rain had diminished and the skies were clear. By now I was weary. Two long trips in the previous two days had worn me out. Simpson?s, with its watery pitches is always a lively place, but today the water thundered down the pitches, echoing their energy in their relentless descent. The duck provided some entertainment. Did you know that you can block the exit to the pool so that the water level rises dramatically! Diane, Iain, and Arthur got the brunt of my engineering. Slit Pot seemed a little tighter than it used to be, but that may just have been lost technique on my part! The final cascade in the system before entering Philosopher?s Crawl was incredibly damp. The crawls below weren?t overly full, but the stream in the mastercave was moving quickly. The force of the water pushing at the back of your legs and trying to make your descent quicker and less controlled that what it should be. On reaching the downstream sump the water wasn?t as high as what I have seen it in the past. We exited the cave after only a few hours, gear clean, and my own caving appetite satisfied at least for the moment.
Epilogue.
What good few days were had up in the Dales. It is great to see that discoveries continue to be made across the country. Thanks to all of you who are active in continued exploration and discovery. I need to work out a lot more. My tick list of caves that I want to do never seems to get shorter. As I sit here, Marilyn, the Far Waters, Boxhead Pot, and number of other caves call me from afar. Surveys and journals scatter the floor and a copy of ?Underground Adventure? awaits to be reread.
