The following February the club returned to the Yorkshire Dales for another big SRT trip. This time the system was to be Nott's Pot, a 500 feet deep pothole high up on Leck Fell. It was a well supported trip with myself, Dave Bowdley, Biggsy, John, Graham, Adrian Stanley (a fairly new recruit, like myself) and Bill Foxall signing up for the experience. My first experience of camping with DCRT had not been a good one so I was relieved when I heard that we had booked bed and breakfast at 'Ashley's Mom’s'. Ashley had been a caving friend of Biggsy's from the old days and his mom lived in Settle.
As well as the luxury of bed and breakfast DCRT also broke with tradition by travelling up to Yorkshire on the Saturday morning which meant that we couldn't make our traditional early start for the pot. As we neared the Lancaster turn off on the M6 we noticed that the tops of the hills were iced with snow. This decoration extended further down into the valleys the further North we ventured. For the last 30 miles or so the roads were quite treacherous and this slowed us up considerably. Settle, when we eventually arrived there, lay under several inches of freshly fallen snow.
By the time we had driven to Leck Fell, parked, changed and walked the best part of a mile through calf deep snow to the pot it was nearly 12 o'clock before we were ready to begin our descent. We worked well as a team and made the bottom within 3 hours.
It was on the way out that the team spirit started to crumble. Biggsy and Bill, having bottomed the system, were anxious to get back out and to the pub. John on the other hand wanted to exit in a leisurely fashion, stopping to take photographs on the way. By half way out I was stuck in the middle of two factions - Dave, Bill and Biggsy who wanted out and John, Graham and Adrian who seemed oblivious to the time.
I was getting hassle from the front group to hurry up as the four of us had travelled there together in Dave's car. I tried to keep in touch with the photography group but they showed no sign of hurrying and I was getting cold. By the time I got on the last pitch I had lost contact with them.
It was nearly 8 o'clock when I finally emerged, cold, hungry and tired. The temperature on the Fell had stayed below zero all day and tiers of icicles, some up to three feet long, hung down the entrance pitch. With no cloud cover the temperature had quickly dropped to several degrees below zero. I picked up the heavy bag of wet rope I'd been left with and staggered off down the hill. We walked most of the way back in silence, but moaned occasionally that we seemed to be carrying more than our fair share and that we'd left the others with virtually nothing to bring out - other than the bloody camera gear!
By the time we got back to the car my fingers were numb with cold and felt like useless lumps of lead. I knew it was going to be a struggle getting the buckles of my gear undone and if that wasn't bad enough, I discovered that the wet straps and fasteners had frozen solid.
Eventually we were all changed and were sitting in the car with the heater on full blast looking forward to a hot shower at Ashley's Mom's followed by a pub meal and a couple of pints. There was still no sign of the other three, but their none arrival wasn’t causing concern - quite the opposite in fact. The conversation revolved around our plight
"Come on Dave. We can’t hang around or we'll be too late to get a meal and a drink in the pub."
"We would have been out over an hour ago if Smithy hadn't insisted on taking his bloody camera."
“Yeah. It's their own fault.”
“What are you waiting for, Dave? Get your foot down.”
“Come on. They’ll be out any minute anyway.”
These observations decided the issue and so without any further hesitation we set off for the pub. I felt a little disquiet and as we passed by the path that led to the pot I stared out of the car window hoping to see their cap lamps, but we were already moving fast and I could make nothing out.
We all showered quickly and then sat down for "a nice cup of 'ot tea" served by Ashley's Mom. At any moment we expected to hear the sound of the second car crunching up the drive, but eventually the teapot was empty and so were our stomachs so we walked around the corner to the pub and ordered food.
I drank Coke while the others sank pints. I still felt uneasy at leaving the others behind and couldn't understand why they hadn't made an appearance yet. The party it seemed was set firm until closing time but as soon as I had finished my meal I nipped back to the digs. John, Graham and Adrian had still not returned and it was now after half past ten. I ran back to the pub. The others didn’t share my concern and besides they didn't see what we could do. A tenner was pressed into my hand.
"Go and get another round of drinks in, Keith."
We returned to Ashley's Mom's after last orders. They still hadn't come back! Something was most definitely wrong! We debated whether to call out the Cave Rescue Organisation, but we couldn't report them as missing until we were sure of our facts. I was the only one who hadn't had a drink and so I was elected to drive Dave's car.
Dave and I were just about to set off back to the pot when we saw Biggsy at the door of the bungalow shouting to us to wait. I rolled down the window and called back, "What's up?"
"Wait a minute," came the reply. "The police are on the phone."
Having delivered the bombshell Biggsy disappeared back inside. My heart skipped several beats. It seemed like my worst fears were about to be confirmed. I looked at Dave and saw that he must have been feeling the same way. We didn't say anything but both got out of the car and walked back over to the door.
In the hall we could see Ashley's Mom still talking on the phone. "Yes. Yes. That's right. They're all here now. OK. I'll tell them."
We were all gathered around her waiting with bated breath. After replacing the phone on the hook, she turned to us and said simply, "You've got their car keys. They're stranded on the Fell."
Oops!
To reduce the number of separate packages that we had had to haul up the pitches we had put a couple of ammo boxes inside the tackle bags. One of them, it seemed, contained John's car keys. Armed with them Dave and I drove the twenty odd miles back to Leck Fell. Dave sobered up quickly as we discussed the rights and wrongs of the situation - the bottom line of which was that we were totally in the wrong to have left the pot before we were sure they were out. Both of us had only been members of DCRT for just over a year and it now looked to us like Nott's Pot could well have been our last trip with the club.
It was after midnight when we found the missing party waiting for us at the side of the road. They climbed into the back of the car without saying a word. As I drove the couple of miles back to their car the atmosphere was even frostier in the car than outside on the Fell.
Only Adrian found his voice during the journey. "What an effing thing to do across your mates," was all that was said.
As soon as we were sure that the stranded party was alright we left and we were glad to be on our way. Relationships were a little strained to say the least.
Back at Ashley's Mom's, Bill and Biggsy were waiting for us anxious for news. We recounted to them what had happened.
Biggsy was unyielding. "Serves them bloody right for taking photographs," was his only comment.
I hoped he would not voice the same opinion when they got back. Fortunately he didn't. In fact very little was said. It was very late, we were all very tired and I don't think anyone trusted themselves to speak.
After a good night's sleep, tempers were partially restored and I asked John what time they had come up out of Nott's Pot.
"It must have been about 9 o'clock (nearly an hour after the rest of us) and you’d left us most of the tackle to carry. Two of you must have walked back down with nothing.”
I bit my tongue.
"I realised that you had got the tackle bag with our car keys in before we left the Fell, but hoping against hope that you had left the keys by the car we all set off up the road. A hot cup of tea would have raised our flagging spirits and we had all got flasks, in the car! I have never been so cold in my bloody life, or felt so bloody helpless."
Adrian chipped in with, "I told him to break a window. I could have soon hot-wired the car."
John ignored the interruption. "We then had to walk over two miles back down the road until we came to a farm house. We knocked on the door and I asked the woman if I could phone the police. The local police station in Settle was closed at that time of night so we were put through to Lancaster. I explained the situation and the copper asked us where we were staying. "Ashley's Mom's," was all I could say. I didn't know her name or the address!"
We tried unsuccessfully to suppress a snigger. John shot us a glance that would have turned milk sour.
"Eventually after more than an hour we were put in touch with a local off duty policeman in Settle who, after I'd explained as best I could where Ashley's Mom's bungalow was situated, thought he knew where I meant. It was another hour after that before you arrived. We waited all that time in an out building with a gale blowing through it."
Adrian chipped in again. "I asked the woman if she'd mind making us a drink, thinking at least we'd get a nice cup of hot tea to warm us up a bit. She got us a drink alright - cold bloody orange juice straight out of the fridge!"
John continued. "You know we'd been stuck on the Fell for over three hours in sub-zero temperatures.
We all made sympathetic noises - all that is except Biggsy. "Perhaps next time you'll think twice before taking your camera caving?" he muttered.
