MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU!
Whatley Mammoth has been making regular appearances whilst in lockdown, and courtesy of student museum curator Nathan Cubbitt, our furry friend was very active on Twitter as you can see above, but for the rest of us, it's a case of still in lockdown, still no caving, but on the bright side, we're still doing the hilarious weekly virtual pub nights on Tuesday with the exceedingly popular pub quizzes that have been run by Megan, Sam and Zac, followed by the usual caving chat and the time-honoured pastime of talking about anything and everything as well as taking the piss out of your friends. Bring your own alcohol. If you'd like to join in,  keep an eye on the club's Facebook page. but if you're not on there and would like to join in, let us know and we'll get the links for the video calls sent over to you.

Last month we had an arts and crafts theme. This month we've turned our hand to something slightly different, as a result of one of the pub chats, which got onto the subject of fan fiction, and we set the writers in the club a challenge of coming up with a piece of fan fiction about a favourite book, incorporating caving (whether as part of the original or not) with the optional extra challenge of incorporating a honey badger. Don't judge us, we'd had a lot to drink by that stage and it all seemed sane at the time, as it always does. We have two entries this time, the first by Megan, who absolutely smashed the challenge, and the second by one of your editors (Linda), who managed a badger, but not of the honey variety. So we're now bringing you some not-for-profit creative writing to while away your spare hours in lockdown! What better incentive could there be to read to the end?

We hope this is an idea we can continue in future issues, so if anyone would like to turn their hand to fiction writing, either continuing with the fanfic challenge, or writing that caving murder mystery you've always wanted to visit on an unsuspecting public, now's your chance. Ideally anything up to about 1,000 words can run in one piece, and over that it would be better to serialise. So don't hold back! And if you've always wanted to write a caving epic, go for it! If you're fanficcing, just avoid Game of Thrones as GRR Martin gets sniffy on the subject, whereas JK Rowling takes a very relaxed view of things providing it's on a non-profit making basis. If in doubt, check with Linda first, it's her subject area. And if you'd like to send any nice feedback to the authors, please email us, and we'll pass it on!

And to enable us to keep providing you with club news and history at a social distanced time, please keep your articles and memories coming. Our 100 Memories project is doing really well!

We hope you enjoy our latest offering, and thank you all for your lovely email messages of support!

Back issues of this newsletter can be found here.
Linda and Mia
LOCKDOWN RESTRICTIONS - A VISUAL GUIDE

The UK’s lockdown restrictions are constantly shifting and sometimes difficult to interpret. To help you along, we’ve dug into the photo archives and put together a guide of the most important things to remember in these unusual times. Please note that any resemblance to UBSS members in this important Public Information Announcement is wholly coincidental.


Mendip Cave Rescue is still saying that we shouldn’t be going caving. :(


At the time of writing, the advice is to stay two metres apart, and remain in groups of two (unless you’re in Northern Ireland or Scotland, in which case crack on with your five to seven mates, as long as they’re from only one other household).


This is not social distancing.

This is not social distancing. Big gatherings in a cave are presumably doubly bad.

Traditional caver games such as body traversing or pan and sling are right out

But what to do while we’re waiting for normal service to resume? Sun tans are the new cave tans, and unlike Otter mud, they don’t wash off. It’s time to adapt and improve, and venture above ground for once.

But remember to stay at least two metres apart from others, particularly if they have been hiking all day and are a bit fragrant.

Some people may try to infiltrate your 2m bubble. Don’t let them.

You also need to maintain social distancing if called upon to deliver essential supplies, such as whisky, to those in need. (Off-licences were classed as essential early on in the lockdown.)


Keep washing your hands. And the rest of yourself too while you’re at it, especially if you’ve been hiking all day.


Wear a face covering. This will help reduce the number of gross germs you can cough over everyone, and with any luckalso do a reasonable job at deterring midges. You’re socially distancing anyway, so nobody will notice how ridiculous you look.

And finally, remember: stay alert.
 

Always remain vigilant to the invisible enemy!
Elaine Oliver
HOW I GOT INTO CAVING


First year computer science student Zac Woodford looks back on how he got into caving, and the story starts well before he found UBSS.


When I was little I always looked up to my aunt, she always did things that were out of this world for a middle-class child from Bath: climbing, canoeing, hiking, caving, motorbiking, activities I thought were incredible. And while I later did a lot of hiking and climbing through scouts and did my one start paddle sport at the time I always looked forward to her rare visits and the stories she would tell of adventures on rivers, up cliffs and down caves.

Unfortunately, she was always busy and as such could never take me on any adventures of my own. But in 2010 she married a man who seemed to obsessively collect qualifications: climbing, kayaking, canoeing, mountain biking and most importantly CIC in cave and mine. He worked as a freelance outdoor instructor and as such had the time to take me on trips. The first of these involved river walking, a one-night expedition and “caving”. So. I was thirteen at the time when I went up to Weardale for a long weekend and my first real experience underground (show caves and the Big Pit don’t count).

Notice the specificity, ‘underground’, because it was a mine we went down. My first time underground was a mine. It was a large iron mine in the Yorkshire dales, big enough to just walk into. And for my first time underground it was incredible. Going to a place that’s so inaccessible and experiencing true darkness. Plus, the social history is fascinating. It was also the first time I discovered how bad my sense of direction is underground.

A couple years later I went down Goatchurch twice, once with scouts, once with my uncle while he assessed another instructor: some poor young youth worker it seemed, who was way out of her depth and had a breakdown at the Drain Pipe, she didn’t even go through it!

Just after GCSEs, I went up to Yorkshire to hike Pen-y-ghent and went down Lancaster Pot with my aunt and uncle and some of their friends - namely, the Middlesbrough port master, an old Irish caver who we had to push out at the end, and a young woman (it was a long time ago, I can’t remember their names or what they did). That was my first experience of SRT having learnt it the Friday before the Sunday we went down. It was a short pitch (about five meters) which was good because my technique was atrocious.

Halfway through A levels I again took three trains up to Runcorn to join my uncle on another trip to Cwmorthin slate mine (Go Below) where he was working at the time.

Cwmorthin is one of those places where you can easily describe it, a series of giant chambers running at a slant through a mountain across many levels but doing so doesn’t convey the shear awe of the place. Its titanic; if Moria was real, it would be Cwmorthin. Chamber after chamber connected together creating titanic steps down the mountain. Great pillars of stone separating halls greater than those of most of the castles of Europe. The next day we went to a mine of the opposite calibre, an ancient copper mine originally used by the Romans and was still used up until the nineteenth century (53°07'28.6"N 3°12'11.6"W, if you’re interested). However, it had long since been disused and as such the entrance was barely more than a drain. It was a very tight mine, more akin to a cave than a mine as it was dug following the vein giving it a rift like structure. I have a brilliant picture of my head poking out of the entrance.



At the end of A-levels I had done many more varieties of mine than caves, which I enjoyed. Mines are rich in fascinating social history, larger and have lots of awesome abandoned equipment. But caves offer more of a challenge and an adventure and aren’t just a walking holiday.

After A-levels, I, naturally, went to university (tried for Cambridge but didn’t even get to interview) and that brought me to Bristol. I remember the summer before starting, half-jokingly half-curiously laughing with my family about joining the caving club if Bristol had one. If only I knew…

At the end of freshers week on an overcast rainy Friday I headed up to the downs to purvey the various desperate attempts by societies and businesses to lure in students and, lo and behold, in the first tent I visited (sports societies was the theme) I found a harness-and-helmet-clad Henry handing out UBSS pamphlets. Every other society wasted time and paper for the rest of that day trying to get me to join them; I’ll admit I was curious about the gliding and skydiving society, but the rest were in vain.

I finally had an excuse to become a troglobyte. The next week I attended a goulash social at the Stables and then rest has been wet, muddy, cold and incredible, whether I’ve been drenched in Swildon’s or suspended from the ceiling of the SU, I don’t regret a moment of it. In fact my only regret is that I wasn’t able to do more, living at home is cheaper but socially isolating. I can only hope that lockdown ends soon, and we can get back underground.
Zac Woodford
VIRTUAL PUB - ALL WELCOME!


Last Tuesday's pub night, with various people doing 'Sam hair', with varying degrees of success, and Henry practising indoor cycling.

Yes, you too can join in on Tuesday night and display abysmal knowledge of a wide range of things, just like everyone else!

Two teams compete against each other to show who knows the least about things such as book quotes, album covers and other obscure and not-so-obscure facts. On one occasion a team managed to be the only entrants but somehow still came an impressive last! Or maybe they won... there was drinking involved, so it's hard to be sure.

The exceedingly popular pub quizzes have been run by Megan, Sam and Zac, followed by the usual caving chat and the time-honoured pastime of talking about anything and everything as well as taking the piss out of your friends. Bring your own alcohol. If you'd like to join in,  keep an eye on the club's Facebook page. but if you're not on there and would like to join in, let us know and we'll get the links for the video calls sent over to you.

Cavers quickly discovered that there's no obligatory drinking up and kicking out time online, so virtual pub has some distinct pluses over the real thing, but by the time lockdown ends, pubs reopen and haircuts have happened, we'll no doubt all be glad to socialise in person!

 
100 MEMORIES - A FRESHER SO NEAT


Helen looking very spic and span in a club oversuit early in her caving career.

Former UBSS secretary Helen Frawley, who graduates as a vet next month, shares memories from her first caving weekend in October 2015, describing herself as "a naïve little fresh caver!" But despite her adventures, Little Neath remains one of her favourite caves now and she's looking forward to a trip once lockdown is over.

I was warned it would be wet; I guess the name and significantly too small wetsuit gave it away. But naïve fresher me was not prepared for quite how chilly and wet Little Neath would be!

Slightly hungover from the previous night of caving games, a small group of us went to follow in the footsteps of our elders in UBSS; visiting Little Neath River Cave. We traipsed down the river peering in any hole we could find looking for the cave until Cam disappeared. All we could see was a pair of wellies sticking out of the rock; guess he found the entrance!

One of our party was already starting to regret the determination and valiant effort it took to get into the wetsuit he was offered - ‘I used to wear this when I was about 14’- and was complaining of chafage. The cave began with a tight, very wet crawl which was great fun and soon filled up our wetsuits which solved the issue. After some wiggling about, it opened up slightly before reaching my first ever duck. I got through without drama and we carried on to Tributary Passage. This was one of the few bits of walking I had done for a while as I finally got to stand up straight!

We then went through to look at the infamous sump that links Bridge Cave to Little Neath (woo go UBSS!!) before continuing on our own little adventure. Us freshers were allowed to lead the way for a while until, totally oblivious to where we were going and what we had reached, we were forced to stop. There was lots of water… Surely we weren’t to go through it? Cam smugly told us we had reached The Canal and that yes, it was swimming time. We braced ourselves and went for it. After what felt like a very long time and lots of water in my ears, we reached the end. An upside: the hangovers were greatly reduced!

We then went on to the Junction Chamber where we stopped for chocolate, biscuits and more chocolate. Suitably fed, we - like the wise men - returned via a different route; thankfully the Canal By-pass. The trip was going swimmingly (excuse the pun!) until the exit crawl. Cold, wet and quite tired by this point, I got my leg and hip wedged under a bit of rock and couldn’t get it free. This dammed up the stream as my oversuit filled up.

There was a fair amount of pushing and pulling (well as much as possible in a near flat out crawl). One of the more sympathetic of the group thought I had stopped because of a spider and was freaking out because he doesn’t like them. I was thinking that two trips with the club seemed too soon to require a rescue story. After about 15 minutes (although it felt like hours) lying face down in the water, I managed to relieve my leg from under the ledge and we all crawled/dragged ourselves back out of Flood Entrance to finish like a beached whale in the river.
Helen Frawley
CAVING IN GUNUNG SEWU, JAVA


Hans, caving in Gunung Sewu.

As part of our 100 Memories project, Hans Friederich has kindly taken the time to share some of his memories of expedition caving and cave science abroad.

Gunung Sewu (it translates as "Thousand Hills") is an area of spectacular limestone cone karst in southern Java, some 30 km southeast of Yogyakarta. The limestone hills have an area of over 1300 km2 and 40,000 limestone cones, all of remarkably consistent size, the mean being around 200 m in diameter and 50 m high. In 2015, UNESCO declared Gunung Sewu as a Global Geopark site.

Over a quarter of a million people live within the karst area, mainly in small villages in the valleys and karst depressions. The critical restriction on economic development of the area is the total lack of surface water or readily available groundwater throughout the dry season. Starting in the late 1970s, Indonesia's Ministry of Public works and Britain's Overseas Development Agency jointly financed a large groundwater project in central Java, and Gunung Sewu was included in the project. Several attempts to reach the groundwater with boreholes had not been successful, and it was therefore decided that further development could not proceed until the water resources of the karst aquifer were properly assessed. 

The Royal Geographical Society was contacted with a request to identify a group of suitable cave scientists, and they got in touch with Tony Waltham, and – as they say – the rest is history. The 1982 project agreement simply stated that two two-man teams should explore and map as many sinkholes as possible in a search for useable water resources. The team comprised Pete Smart and Hans Friederich from Bristol, together with Tony Waltham, Andy Eavis and Tim Atkinson. The team was in the field from late July to early September 1982.   


Hans, surrounded by locals taking an interest in what he's doing.

Scores of cave entrances were known by the local people, and many of them were explored for the first time in 1982. Further exploration in 1983 by Dick Willis and friends resulted in a complete catalogue of 263 caves. A major group of caves lies along the northern margin of Gunung Sewu where it borders the Wonosari Plateau which is made up of chalky non-cavernous limestone. Surface rivers from the Plateau sink where they meet the outcrop of the cavernous Sewu limestones, and the result is a series of active river caves that still contain sizeable river flows in the dry season. The central area of Sewu is characterised by steeply descending shaft systems, located in the valleys and depressions between the conical hills.

The object of the 1982 project was to find water, and exploration of "likely" wet passages was the prime task. Caves with water were surveyed to grade 5, and dry caves of any length were just surveyed to grade 3. Extensive programmes of dye tracing and water quality testing were carried out at the same time, and confirmed that most of the subterranean water flows to the large Baron resurgence on the southern coast of Java.
Economically usable resources really had to be one of two types.
  • Small streams or pools generally at depths of less than 30m, which could be exploited by direct access or hand dug and operated wells, or;
  • Major streams or large lakes at depths up to about 100m, which could support abstraction schemes using boreholes and submersible pumps.
A number of usable resources of both types were found, but after the first phase of explorations it was realised that the main conduits from the river sinks in the north all ended in sumps, and probably continued in the phreatic zone. The exploration efforts therefore shifted to finding perched water resources within the shaft systems of the central area; many caves were therefore left unexplored where they descended to depths from which small resources could not be exploited economically.


The centre of attention!

The 1982 cave survey programme in Gunung Sewu was considered cost effective as a large proportion of the known caves was explored at a cost equivalent to that of drilling only a few boreholes  Some resources with immediate potential were discovered, and five sites were budgeted for development in the following years. We did not survey all caves in the area and Dick Willis, Colin Boothroyd and Nigel Briggs returned to Gunung Sewu in August of 1983 in order to complete the exploration of the area. They concluded that their work more or less completed the exploration of the known sites of speleological interest in west Gunung Sewu.
Hans Friederich
 
References
Waltham AC, Smart PL, Friederich, H, Eavis, A.J & Atkinson TC (1983). The caves of Gunung Sewu, Java:, Cave Science, 10 (2), pp 55–96
Antony C. Waltham, Peter L. Smart, Hans Friederich & Timothy C. Atkinson (1985), «Exploration of caves for rural water supplies in the Gunung Sewu karst, Java», Annales de la Société géologique de Belgique [En ligne], 108, pp 27-31
Eko Haryono (2010).  Significant features of Gunung Sewu karst as Geopark site.  4th International UNESCO Conference on Geoparks, April 2010, Langkawi. 
Willis R.G., Boothroyd C. & Briggs N. 1984, The Caves of Gunung Sewu, Java, Cave Science 11 (3), pp 119 - 153.
JOURNEYS BENEATH THE EARTH: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CAVE EXPLORER



Veteran cave explorer Dave Gill has recently published the first part of his fascinating autobiography describing his caving career. Linda Wilson and Graham Mullan spent two months working with Dave on the book...

As a lot of people know, Graham and I spend a lot of our time editing and writing, but I wasn't expecting an email from David Rose of Oxford University CC in February this year asking if I'd be willing to help out Dave Gill with some editing work on his autobiography. At that stage, I didn't actually know Dave, although we have many mutual friends in common. With the lockdown looming ever-closer, I thought I might have some free time, so I said I'd take a look at the book.

I was quickly sucked into the story of Dave's early life and how he got into caving, then tale upon tale of expeditions quickly followed. Dave has a great natural writing style and can spin a great yarn in the same vein as such early classics as Norbert Casteret's adventures (but unlike Monsieur Casteret, Dave isn't a bullshit merchant!). No exaggeration is needed to embellish the stories as Dave really was - is - as hard as nails and has done things that caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up, in particularly the terrifyingly wet antics on the Untamed River Expeditions. I also really enjoyed all the stories of caving in France on early UK expeditions to the Gouffre Berger and the Pierre Saint-Martin.

I worked my way happily through 300 pages and then turned the edited version over to Graham who did the layout, including photos and cover design, and produced versions for use on Amazon and as eBooks. Altogether, we spent two months and countless hours on the book, and will soon be starting work with Dave on volume 2, so that's my dog in the race clearly labelled!

I can honestly say that Journey's Beneath the Earth is an absolute must for anyone with an interest in the history of expeditions and anyone who is thinking about running an expedition abroad. Dave shows that most obstacles can be overcome by a combination of meticulous planning, good humour and respect for the local people, no matter where in the world you happen to be, You'll also encounter quite a few UBSS members in its pages...

Journeys Beneath the Earth: the autobiography of a cave explorer is available on Amazon. The high print cost of £34.95 is unfortunately an inevitable consequence of publishing with full colour throughout on a self-publishing platform, but with the state of the publishing industry, book deals are few and far between, so this was the only likely way for this impressive to reach a caving audience. The Kindle version is much more modestly priced at £8.50.

 
PHOTO CORNER


Thanks to Liz Green for this photo of the our second hut in the woods!

This replaced the old caravan that women members used to sleep in the woods. It was originally known as the Women's Quarters then later became known as the Married Quarters, which is a story in changing social dynamics in itself, and if something that would well repay a more detailed study! No doubt it could feature entertainingly in our oral histories project, so please do let us have your memories of when the hut was built, how it's changed over time, your memories of the times you've had to clear birds' nests from the chimney etc!

WHAT TO DO WHILST BORED IN LOCKDOWN!



James Rossington, who many will remember was one of the very last people still standing and vaguely sentient in the bar of the Wookey Hole Hotel after the Centenary Dinner, turned 18 at the beginning of May, and as well as wanting to do more caving, he's also a very keen climber, and during lockdown has missed going to the climbing wall, so he decided to do something about it and construct his own.

The structure grew week by week in his parents' kitchen, to the extent that on one occasion, Helen and Richard had to resort to phoning for a takeaway due to the inability to reach the fridge! Thanks to Helen and James for this photo.

If climbers can do it, so can cavers! Come on folks, the bar has been raised. We need our own artificial cave. Let's see what you've been up to during lockdown!

COMPETITION!



Thanks to Dick Willis for supplying this photo!

The competition is to name ALL the people (or as many as you can) from left to right. There will be prizes or a wonderful new UBSS mini-torch for your keyring for the first three correct answers to arrive! There will be a bonus prize of a UBSS pen for any winning entries that give the correct location and year the photo was taken.

And if you don't know the answer, there will be also be a prize for the funniest spoof entry!
IF SAM HAD A SPIRIT ANIMAL ....


 
So what's your caving spirit animal and why? Send us your photos and a few words of wisdom! Or make one up on behalf of your friends! Or we'll make one up for you...
 
AND NOW FOR OUR GREAT CAVING FANFICTION CHALLENGE ....

To get our creative writing challenge off to a flying start, Megan has kindly shared the first chapter of her forthcoming Epic, which will appear as and when further inspiration strikes. Sam Bowers provided the cover image.

Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly clean, thank you very much. They were the last people you’d expect to go digging around in the mud for a bit of fun.
 
They lived in a large, pristine, semi-detached suburban home, with a large, pristine, weed-free garden. Inside the house, the floors and furnishings were carpeted in a dust free nauseating shade of salmon, and the large, pristine kitchen looked like it had hopped right out of an Ikea showroom, and didn’t know the meaning of the word food.
 
Mr Dursley was an uncomfortably bulbous man. He was a firm believer in best before dates on food packaging and couldn’t stand the thought of anything rotting sullying his shiny kitchen. Because of this, he ate everything he could find with less than three days left, and had ended up rather fat. His wife, Petunia, was built like a broomstick, and had a permanently pinched face from the constant smell of disinfectant. Their son Dudley adopted the worst traits of both his parents and had developed a firm aversion to going outside under any circumstances.
 
The Dursley family had one single common energy that they loathed with every fibre of their being. Dirt.
 
One night, when Dudley was still a screaming toddler, Privet Drive was visited by some oddly dressed strangers. A woman in a red boiler suit, the colour subdued by a thick layer of grime, sat on the edge of the pavement and stared into space, as if waiting for someone.
 
She was old, and her hair was a dull grey, streaked with a brown that might have been a remnant of her former youth, or might have just been mud. As the numbers on her digital, water-resistant watch ticked over to midnight, she was startled by an eerie grating sound. A stooped figure emerged from the shadows. It was a very old man. He had a long white beard that he tucked into a thick belt wrapped around the same dusty boiler suit as the woman. His gentle eyes were playful and full of energy, but his body was stooped low from the years spent in cramped conditions.
 
“Albus Dumbledore!” the woman cried. “You startled me! You appeared as if by magic!”
 
Dumbledore chuckled, showing off rows of yellowish teeth.
 
“Don’t be ridiculous, Minerva,” he said. “I simply came out of the drain hole. No one wants to hear you prattling on about magic. Who on earth would be interested in that?”
 
“Are the rumours true? Were Lily and James really… really… you know...”
 
“Mauled to death by a honey badger?” Dumbledore sighed, dabbing his eyes with a mouldy tissue. “I am afraid so. The boy survived. Hagrid is bringing him now.”
 
Before Minerva could protest, a low hum echoed down the empty streets, getting louder and louder until the glaring lights of a motorbike turned the corner and sped directly towards the two figures. It skidded to a halt in front of them. A giant, shaggy man holding a new-born swathed in a faded blanket passed the baby over to Dumbledore. He reached into his coat pockets and pulled out a pic n mix bag, filled with lots of tiny pebbles. He crunched on them noisily.
 
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, flecks of gravel spluttering from his bushy mouth. “Bit of a struggle to get myself down the cave. Gettin’ a bit tubby nowadays, I’m afraid.” He patted the front of his fuzzy coat, the buttons stretched thin over his belly. “Ol’ Sirius Black ended up havin’ ter rescue the both of us. He leant me this bike, and I came fast as I could. “
 
“Thank you for bringing him to us, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore. “He will be placed with his closest relatives.”
 
“You can’t mean these ridiculous Muggles!” Minerva exclaimed. “I’ve been watching them all day! They’re some of the worst sort. Why, I don’t think that pudgy son of theirs has ever so much as stomped in a puddle!”
 
“It is for the best, Minerva,” said Dumbledore, cradling the infant tenderly. “He is far better growing up away from our world, for the time being. Think of the fame that comes when one’s parents are mauled to death. We could not let that go to his head.”
 
Minerva sighed, and conceded. She took the baby from Dumbledore’s arms, and gently placed it down on the doorstep. Dumbledore took out a scrawled letter and tucked it into the blanket.
 
“Goodbye, Harry,” Hagrid cried, his fat tears dribbling down his mud streaked face. The three of them turned away from Privet Drive and vanished into the night. The baby slept on, unaware that he had lost his parents, unaware that at that moment, men and women across the country were raising grubby glasses and crying “Cheers to Harry! Cheers to The Boy Who Wasn’t Mauled to Death by a Honey Badger!”

 

I fell passionately in love with the world of Middle-earth as an eight-year-old, which did well for me in my second year of uni when WH Allen &Son publishers accepted a scruffy typescript of The Tolkien Quiz Book, co-authored with my long-time friend and co-conspirator, Nigel Robinson. It was published in the UK and the US, Second hand copies can still be picked up, I believe! A return to my old fanfiction stamping grounds a couple of years ago has been a lot of fun. This takes place during the battle of Helm's Deep in The Two Towers. The title comes from Thorin's song in Bilbo's house in The Hobbit. So here goes...

Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!
 
Gimli’s axe rose and fell, cleaving the orc’s sword arm from its body. A thrust from Éomer’s long blade finished the job he had started.
 
The dwarf sketched a quick bow. “My thanks. That one was proving troublesome.”
 
“Does that count towards your contest?” asked Éomer, his conversational tone belying how hard pressed they were.
 
“I will discount that as a joint effort,” answered Gimli. “The Elf may need the advantage in the game. The fighting is fierce here.”
 
“I doubt it is easier elsewhere. But we are being pressed back to the cliff. Our only refuge may well be in the caves. If I give the order to retreat, follow me closely.”
 
“A dwarf does not run from the vermin of Isengard!”
 
“We run or die, my friend, and I have no intention of dying this night…” Éomer’s sword flashed in the torchlight and another orc fell.
 
Their enemies were driven onwards by whip and spear, some fuelled by rage and some by fear; fear of their own captains overrode even their fear of the Strawheads, as they called the men of Rohan. No quarter was given and none was asked. The defenders were being pressed inexorably back, step by step, Éomer on his right, a man whose name he did not know on his left. When one orc was cut down, another sprang to take its place. The Rohirrim were stout allies in a fight, but Gimli longed for a hundred of his countrymen and their axes and then they would teach Saruman’s creatures some manners.
 
As he fended off a spear thrust from a towering orc chieftain, a pained gasp on his left boded ill. He sprang forward to give cover, yelling again the battle cry of his people, “Khazâd! Khazâd!”
 
An orc swung a curved sword dark with blood and he passed Gimli’s defence. The dwarf’s iron helm turned the blade but it was knocked from his head and he felt the edge of the weapon slice his forehead in a glancing blow.
 
“For the King of the Mark!” Éomer cried, his sword flashing red again and again.
 
The orcs fell back a body’s length.
 
Gimli dashed blood from his eyes. On his left side, his comrade’s thigh now sprouted a black fletched arrow below the man’s mail hauberk.
 
“Do not pull it!” he cried. “The tips are barbed.”
 
The man stepped back, sheathed his sword and snapped the shaft.
 
“Their archers will pick us off one by one. We cannot tarry. To the caves!” Éomer ordered. “Leofwine, lead the way. Gimli and I will cover the retreat.”
 
Step by tortuous step, they gave ground as around them grey arms of rock closed in, forcing the orcs to come at them in ones and two.
 
An orc rushed at him and Gimli swung his axe. An iron collar jarred his axe, but his second strike cleaved its skull, despite the notch his axe blade now sported.
 
“Turn now!” Éomer ordered. “I have your back, Master Dwarf!”
 
Gimli did as he had been bidden, following torchlight into a narrow cleft.
 
“Keep moving!” Leofwine said. “When Éomer is inside, we collapse the entrance.”
 
Once Éomer reached the rock sanctuary, Leofwine took hold of a long wooden pole and swung on it with all his weight, ignoring the arrow in his leg. The rock groaned, then shifted, a huge block falling to crush the orc that had been hard on Éomer’s heels.
 
As more rocks fell, sealing the entrance, Gimli nodded approving. The blockage would hold, he was sure of that, and if the orcs deployed their blasting fire, they would only bring down more of the cliff.
 
The defenders had won through to safety. For now, at least.
 
****
 
Gimli stared in wonder at the vast cavern as around him the survivors of the desperate battle for Helm’s Deep laid down their weapons as men and women rushed to tend the injured. Their faces told those who looked on them that they had not expected to escape with their lives, cornered as they had been like badgers in a trap.
 
He ignored the clamour of voices and the stamp of horses’ hooves on the dry, sandy floor echoing from orderly picket lines on the far side of the chamber.
 
Above him soared a vast vaulted roof adorned by countless frozen white pendants that hung all around in long clusters. Around the sides of the chamber many-coloured pillars climbed high, some white as the fair hand of the Lady Galadriel, others with the rosy blush of dawn and warm soft saffron hues. Translucent curtains draped from the roof and clung to the walls, with the light of lanterns shining through. Everywhere he looked, towering pillars stood as tall as mallorn trees in the groves of Lothlorien, drops of water splashing down onto their flattened tops like rainfall on a spring morning. Some had grown tall enough to form columns joining roof to floor, some as slender as a reed, others as thick and gnarled as old oaks.
 
His heart sang at the sight of such beauty and he marvelled that the Rohirrim had spoken of these caves as no more than storehouses and a refuge in time of war, yet here they had glories the like of which Gimli had never before seen. Not even the great caverns of the Lonely Mountain or the deep chambers of Iron Hills could rival this display of riches.

Gems glistened in the walls and frozen flowers bloomed from the rock as white as lilies, growing slowly but surely, others were as thin as the finest silken cord, their beauty twisting this way and that into eccentric forms. Gleaming white pearls nestled in beds of marble, as all around crystals glittered in the lamplight like hoar frost on a winter morning. Pausing only to dash the blood from his eyes when it threatened to obscure his sight, he lost himself in a world of delight until the sights, sounds and smells of battle faded from his mind.

His wandering feet led him to a wide lake mirroring the glories above and he admired the illusion of the towers and pinnacles of a city of glass and adamant, strong and glorious beyond even the dreams of Durin. As he watched, a single drop fell and shattered the image.
 
“Gimli, your wound needs to be tended,” Éomer said softly at his side.
 
“This is all the healing salve I need, my friend, but I do not want my blood to stain such perfection.”
 
He turned away from the pool and was once more in the world of blood and pain.
 
His count now stood at forty-two but he would willingly cede the game if Legolas still lived.
 
JIGSAW COMPETITION RESULTS

As several eagle-eyed people spotted, the cave survey jigsaw was Swildon's! This deduction may have been aided by a close examination of the text...

The entries, in order, were:

Ashley Gregg (the winner!)
Chris Howes
Clive Owen
Elaine Oliver
Dickon Morris

And an honourable mention to Jacob Podesta, who said: "Since there are pieces with 'Swildon's one', 'Swildon's three' and 'Swildon's four' written on it I think I am going to have to go with Wookey Hole."

If anyone would like to try their hand at making another jigsaw for next time, that would be great!

 
I READ TO THE END!!!


We hope lots of you did, but there always has to be a winner, and this month its the lovely Dr Andy Farrant, up at an unfeasibly early hour! We're now going to be compiling a League Table, so keep those entries coming for your place in the history books! The running order for the April issue was as follows....

-  Yay caving..  (Andy Farrant)
-  Arggghghh I can't wait to actually go underground! This was a nice way start the day though. Thanks. (Si Hadfield)
-  I read to the end! Honestly. (Hans Friederich)
-  I'm probably not the first, but I did enjoy reading about the past Ireland trips. We are yet to find any nuns guarding the caves on our visits. (Ashley Gregg)
-  Oops I slept in.   (Megan Malpas)
-  Me - good excuse for procrastination (Stu Walker)
-  Pick Me!
-  Yes, friends, once more to the end ...  (Chris Howes)
-  Here’s me and the blessed FT Bear checking in!  (Sharon Wheeler)
-  Yay Caving!  (Rosie Daniels)


And Ian Wheeler gets an honourable mention, as he might have won if his email hadn't taken a stupendous 14 days to arrive! He sent it very early, then it went for an unscheduled trip around Box Mines and clearly got delayed en route. Ian said: Second place and first loser last month, so surely due a promotion up the ranks this time round? Got to be some advantage to being up at this hour to plan my teaching!

Yes, I did, I read to the end!


THE END