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The Thursday night regular thing is becoming a bit more of an effort with the cold drawing in and our intrepid band of foolhardy suckers was this week reduced to a trio by external temperatures of -5 degrees, cider making, badger swearing and all manner of other things that aren't conducive to a good caving trip in Baltic conditions.
Even Les was wavering more towards the nice warm pub, but Darren and myself soon got him back on track and we were away to Burrington Combe for a nice relaxed trip down Sidcot.... not everything went to plan.
This is the trip report that Darren doesn't want you to see.
Thursday 15/11/07
-Sidcot Swallet
Les, Darren, Myself
On the drive down Les explained how the lay-by in the Combe can be a hotspot for vehicle crime and upon reaching said lay-by still managed to convince Darren to park in it,of course he was insured and besides there was another car parked there. This particular other car looked rather old and had a bowl of curry complete with a spoon sat on top of it like some bizarre offering to the gods, we got changed and set off quizzing Darren along the way about his insurance policy and discussing car crimes and joyriding.
It was so cold by the time we got to Sidcot that we dived on in and immediately got lost, I always wondered why the correct way seems to be the least appealling, we soon got back on track and after a not very tight squeeze we entered a small chamber and that is when the shenanigans really started. Les was up ahead and remarked that he had come to a squeeze which he couldn't remember, which isn't such a surprise as had total amnesia of Sidcot... couldn't remember a single bloody thing which meant it was a very unpleasant cave, or he had done it a very long time ago, at this point sat atop my rock and listening to various struggling noises... I hoped it was the latter.
Like some bizarre caving parody of Cinderella and the glass slipper, Les and Darren both gave the squeeze a go even though neither of them were convinced it was the right way (A squeeze always seems a lot tighter when it is liable to be the wrong way). We nearly ended the night as a bad job there and then, however the prospect of going out in the cold so soon had bolstered my resolve and so I dived into the squeeze and found that I could get through without a problem, as soon as I was through the squeeze had obviously become a lot bigger as miraculously the other two came straight on through.
The other side was great, it had lots of room and everyone was happy... so happy in fact that Les vanished down the Lobster pot, Darren's happiness was short lived however as the moment he tried to follow Les he instantly found himself stuck. Now most people would wait a minute or so, test their feet.. maybe think about things or just generally see if they could get out, Darren didn't want to waste any time with this however and almost instantly announced he was stuck. He wasn't wrong, with Les down below and myself up top it soon turned into comedy and like a scene out of 'The Enormous Turnip' I was trying my best to haul him out by tugging on his arms, while Les was down below trying to push him up whilst avoiding getting kicked in the face. In the end we improvised by using my leg as a kind of Stemple over the top of the hole for Darren to haul himself up on, with Les down below forming a human stepladder. Any form of communication between myself and Les was hampered by the fact that there was a human being in the way, but eventually Darren managed to pull himself up and all was well.
Anyhow, that isn't the most incredible thing that hapenned all night.. it really does take a rare kind of idiot to witness and even play a part in the aforementioned saga and then attempt to do the same thing himself, so it was that I found myself hanging on my chin strap halfway down the lobster pot, wondering how in the name of Christ I was going to get back up.
You see, on the way to the cave we met the owners of the car with the curry bowlr and they were all returning from a trip down Lobster pot, they were also all small thin chaps who were carrying rope and kit and proceeded to tell us that they'd found it very tight in there, even with a rope...
Instead of the assurance that rope can often provide a caving group, we had our own assurance in the form of wise words from Les which basically meant that as tigers we didn't need tackle, and would be fine.
These assurances were the last thing on my mind however in the five or ten minutes it took me to haul myself back up the pot, I distinctly remember fighting with everything I had just to gain a centimetre or two, my technique was wrong and I was flailing a bit when I should have just relaxed and tried to find that elusive foothold, which I have been assured IS there. However my technique involved kicking off of the wall and gaining small bits at a time, damaging my right hand side intercostal muscles, bruising both my elbows and looking from below for all the world like a complete tit.
I'm not a quitter though and I got myself up top, with all four layers of clothing still on, exhausted and muttering all manner of curses, it is about then that I collapsed in some piss-ridden puddle and no longer cared about anything else, even life itself.
The first part of Les to come up the Lobster pot was his oversuit, handed to Darren... he had been a bit concerned about my epic battle and used the time to strip off, our pints were in jeopardy and he was clearly no fool, he headed up the pot with minimal fuss and in half the time it took me.
Somehow Darren and myself got lumbered with his oversuit on the way up as we squeezed our way back through and out of the cave, upon exiting I discovered my Scurian lid had fallen off in one of the numerous bashings I had given it and there was no time to go back because Roger was relying on our trade.
When we got back to the car Darren was pleasantly surprised to find it was even still there and we were soon off to celebrate, after a beer we ended the night with our traditional closing ceremony which involves pushing a big green landrover down a moonlit lane in Priddy with two or three guys swearing at the back and one git sat in the driver's seat turning the key.
It was a brilliant night and for such a small trip, a lot went on and I think we were all glad we went. Big thanks to Les and Darren and I'd also like to thank Bru who went in Sidcot the next day and retrieved my Scurian lid from a pool of sweat at the top of the lobster pot, cheers mate that was a well earned tenner (it belonged to Cookie!).
Even Les was wavering more towards the nice warm pub, but Darren and myself soon got him back on track and we were away to Burrington Combe for a nice relaxed trip down Sidcot.... not everything went to plan.
This is the trip report that Darren doesn't want you to see.
Thursday 15/11/07
-Sidcot Swallet
Les, Darren, Myself
On the drive down Les explained how the lay-by in the Combe can be a hotspot for vehicle crime and upon reaching said lay-by still managed to convince Darren to park in it,of course he was insured and besides there was another car parked there. This particular other car looked rather old and had a bowl of curry complete with a spoon sat on top of it like some bizarre offering to the gods, we got changed and set off quizzing Darren along the way about his insurance policy and discussing car crimes and joyriding.
It was so cold by the time we got to Sidcot that we dived on in and immediately got lost, I always wondered why the correct way seems to be the least appealling, we soon got back on track and after a not very tight squeeze we entered a small chamber and that is when the shenanigans really started. Les was up ahead and remarked that he had come to a squeeze which he couldn't remember, which isn't such a surprise as had total amnesia of Sidcot... couldn't remember a single bloody thing which meant it was a very unpleasant cave, or he had done it a very long time ago, at this point sat atop my rock and listening to various struggling noises... I hoped it was the latter.
Like some bizarre caving parody of Cinderella and the glass slipper, Les and Darren both gave the squeeze a go even though neither of them were convinced it was the right way (A squeeze always seems a lot tighter when it is liable to be the wrong way). We nearly ended the night as a bad job there and then, however the prospect of going out in the cold so soon had bolstered my resolve and so I dived into the squeeze and found that I could get through without a problem, as soon as I was through the squeeze had obviously become a lot bigger as miraculously the other two came straight on through.
The other side was great, it had lots of room and everyone was happy... so happy in fact that Les vanished down the Lobster pot, Darren's happiness was short lived however as the moment he tried to follow Les he instantly found himself stuck. Now most people would wait a minute or so, test their feet.. maybe think about things or just generally see if they could get out, Darren didn't want to waste any time with this however and almost instantly announced he was stuck. He wasn't wrong, with Les down below and myself up top it soon turned into comedy and like a scene out of 'The Enormous Turnip' I was trying my best to haul him out by tugging on his arms, while Les was down below trying to push him up whilst avoiding getting kicked in the face. In the end we improvised by using my leg as a kind of Stemple over the top of the hole for Darren to haul himself up on, with Les down below forming a human stepladder. Any form of communication between myself and Les was hampered by the fact that there was a human being in the way, but eventually Darren managed to pull himself up and all was well.
Anyhow, that isn't the most incredible thing that hapenned all night.. it really does take a rare kind of idiot to witness and even play a part in the aforementioned saga and then attempt to do the same thing himself, so it was that I found myself hanging on my chin strap halfway down the lobster pot, wondering how in the name of Christ I was going to get back up.
You see, on the way to the cave we met the owners of the car with the curry bowlr and they were all returning from a trip down Lobster pot, they were also all small thin chaps who were carrying rope and kit and proceeded to tell us that they'd found it very tight in there, even with a rope...
Instead of the assurance that rope can often provide a caving group, we had our own assurance in the form of wise words from Les which basically meant that as tigers we didn't need tackle, and would be fine.
These assurances were the last thing on my mind however in the five or ten minutes it took me to haul myself back up the pot, I distinctly remember fighting with everything I had just to gain a centimetre or two, my technique was wrong and I was flailing a bit when I should have just relaxed and tried to find that elusive foothold, which I have been assured IS there. However my technique involved kicking off of the wall and gaining small bits at a time, damaging my right hand side intercostal muscles, bruising both my elbows and looking from below for all the world like a complete tit.
I'm not a quitter though and I got myself up top, with all four layers of clothing still on, exhausted and muttering all manner of curses, it is about then that I collapsed in some piss-ridden puddle and no longer cared about anything else, even life itself.
The first part of Les to come up the Lobster pot was his oversuit, handed to Darren... he had been a bit concerned about my epic battle and used the time to strip off, our pints were in jeopardy and he was clearly no fool, he headed up the pot with minimal fuss and in half the time it took me.
Somehow Darren and myself got lumbered with his oversuit on the way up as we squeezed our way back through and out of the cave, upon exiting I discovered my Scurian lid had fallen off in one of the numerous bashings I had given it and there was no time to go back because Roger was relying on our trade.
When we got back to the car Darren was pleasantly surprised to find it was even still there and we were soon off to celebrate, after a beer we ended the night with our traditional closing ceremony which involves pushing a big green landrover down a moonlit lane in Priddy with two or three guys swearing at the back and one git sat in the driver's seat turning the key.
It was a brilliant night and for such a small trip, a lot went on and I think we were all glad we went. Big thanks to Les and Darren and I'd also like to thank Bru who went in Sidcot the next day and retrieved my Scurian lid from a pool of sweat at the top of the lobster pot, cheers mate that was a well earned tenner (it belonged to Cookie!).
