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POT-HOLING
IN THE MENDIPS
Most pot-holers consider themselves mountaineers in reverse. They go underground in order to clamber down hills and through subterranean rivers in search of beauty, fossils or natural life. Or else they just go for the fun of it.
Photographed by RAYMOND S. KLEBOE
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THE Mendip Hills, which form a broad, green shoulder, 800 ft. high, to the north of the pleasant cathedral town of Wells, in Somerset, are largely composed of limestone-a rock which is readily eroded and dissolved away under the action of running water. Surface streams, therefore, starting life on the grassy slopes of these hills, soon find their way underground through fissures in the rock, and over a period of countless millions of years have carved for themselves subterranean courses which may run for many miles far from the light of day. These underground stream passages, known locally as swallow holes or swallets, are often large enough to enter, and the explorer who ventures into their dank recesses is rewarded by the sight of many lovely grottoes, richly decorated by nature with innumerable stalactites and stalagmites. Many will already be familiar with this strange and fascinating underground scenery, and may even have paid visits to the well-known caves at Wookey Hole and Cheddar Gorge, where electric light and concrete steps have been installed for the benefit of
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the tourist. There are, however, numerous other caves beneath the surface of the Mendip Hills, and in these the visitor must carry his own light, wear old clothes and be fully prepared for all forms of discomfort. Before he returns to daylight he may have to wriggle on his stomach along muddy passages, wade through streams, slide down rocky fissures and even, perhaps, scramble up or down a twisting, swaying rope-ladder. This curious sport of cave-crawling, usually known as 'pot-holing'- although it has a tongue-twisting scientific name, 'speleology'-has sometimes been described as 'mountaineering in reverse.'
Let's take a typical expedition-a visit to one of the most interesting Mendip caves, Swildon's or St. Swithin's Hole, which lies near the village of Priddy. The entrance is a tree-shaded crevice, just large enough for a man to pass through, at the foot of a low bank. A shallow stream widens into a pool nearby and disappears underground only a few feet
away.
Slithering down, one by one, into the rock-
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bound rift that forms the entrance, we at once notice the earthy smell of the cool, damp air which remains at an almost constant temperature (50-55 degrees F.) the whole year round. The first few yards of our journey will prove mildly alarming to the novice. Before the eyes have grown accustomed to the dim yellow light of our torches, we have to wriggle down into a narrow gully and then dive head first into a small hole, half hidden by a curtain of falling water. Beyond, we have to lie on a damp ledge, barely a foot wide, with a black gaping pit on the right, down which the stream thunders in a torrent of white foam. Then a squeeze between wedged boulders leads into a dry, rocky tunnel lined with stalagmite, along which progress can be made on hands and knees. Eventually we enter a passage with a roof sufficiently high to allow walking. Each step now takes us farther downwards, but our route -aptly known as "The Pretty Way'-passes through an almost unbroken series of grottoes and chambers lined with stalactites and pillars. Those who are trying 'cave-crawling' for the first
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time begin to decide that there may be some- thing in it after all.
once more.
Soon, at a point roughly 400 feet from the entrance, we enter a high chamber, 20 feet across, where stony-white pendants and cream or orange draperies festoon the roof and walls. We begin to sense rather than hear the muffled, ominous booming of a distant heavy waterfall and, a few yards farther on, we meet the stream Crawling first on hands and knees through icy water and then wading, thigh deep, through a slot only 4 feet high, we have to slither down a water chute on to a ledge about the size of a card table. Below this, the stream hurtles down in a graceful white curve into a smooth- walled, vertical shaft, 40 feet deep. The roar of the fall in the confined space is almost overpowering. Here a rope ladder is lashed to a pillar of rock, and down it, one by one, we scramble, groping for the rungs, while the stinging, numbing water beats down like heavy rain, until the feet touch solid rock in the broad pool at the bottom.
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The way on is a succession of dark rifts, pools which are often unexpectedly deep, and seething, noisy cascades and rapids, but the walls are covered with sparkling, fluted columns and rippling draperies whose glittering beauty makes one forget the discomforts of the journey. At one stage, a high-level passage known as "The White Way,' which by-passes the stream, has roof and walls of purest white, while the crystal floor is broken by mirror-like pools of still, greenish-blue water. A magnificent rift, whose roof is often out of sight, finally leads into a broad canyon strewn with boulders, and our journey comes to an end at a point where the roof dips below the surface of a sinister pool. The journey back along the stream, up the vertical pitches and back to the daylight, two or three hours away, is cheered by thoughts of clean, dry clothing and a warm meal.
The pool we turn away from lies about 2,000 feet from the entrance and some 400 feet below ground,
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and was for a long time the end of the cave, although several unsuccessful attempts were made to blast away the obstructing section of the roof. In 1936, however, J. A. Sheppard and F. G. Balcombe, using a home-made diving suit, managed to crawl through a waterlogged tunnel below the surface of the water and emerged in a roomy passage about 10 feet farther on. They were able to travel another 1,000 feet before the way was once more barred by a syphon pool. The mystery of what lies behind this second pool has not yet been solved. Eastwater Swallet, another well-known cave near Priddy, is totally different in character to Swildon's Hole, and is a complex system of steep, rocky passages with few stalactites to relieve the tedium of mud and rock. It begins with a 100-foot climb down through a confused maze of gigantic boulders, where even experienced pot-holers sometimes lose their way. A chamber below this boulder-pile opens into a wide but low passage which descends
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very steeply for some 200 feet, and where the usual method of progression involves lying on the back with feet against the roof. This cave is usually much drier than Swildon's Hole, but the stream rises very rapidly after heavy rain. In 1910, a party of army officers were trapped underground for many hours as a result of a cloudburst which flooded the upper passages and effectively prevented escape until the waters had subsided.
Photographing underground is far from an easy task. Elaborate precautions are needed to keep the camera dry, and bulky equipment is not at all welcome when tricky climbs or tight squeezes have to be negotiated. For illumination, it is generally necessary to use magnesium flash powder, and this soon fills the damp, steamy atmosphere of a cave with an almost impenetrable white fog. For this last reason alone, the cave photographer is never very popular with his fellow pot-holers!
J. H. D. HOOPER.
www.gettyimages.co.uk
