Crystal pool in the Grotte de Midroï, Ardeche, France. Photo by Jess Brock.
We've had a massively busy and successful start to the term, with a great freshers' weekend, soon to be followed by the traditional bonfire weekend, the Wales weekend and CHECC. There have been several mid-week trips and training has got off the ground again (yes, pun intended!).
We've only managed to scratch the surface of club activities this month and are in the happy position of being able to hold a few things over to the next issue, so if your deathless prose hasn't appeared yet, it'll be along soon. We're open to all contributions from members new and old, and even guest contributions (see below from Isaac's mum!). Photos are very welcome, too, and we're hatching plans for a photo challenge to some of Mendip's more obscure underground places.
If you want check out previous issues, you can find them all here. You can also find a scanned archive of all our paper issues from 1919 to 2017 there as well.
We've only managed to scratch the surface of club activities this month and are in the happy position of being able to hold a few things over to the next issue, so if your deathless prose hasn't appeared yet, it'll be along soon. We're open to all contributions from members new and old, and even guest contributions (see below from Isaac's mum!). Photos are very welcome, too, and we're hatching plans for a photo challenge to some of Mendip's more obscure underground places.
If you want check out previous issues, you can find them all here. You can also find a scanned archive of all our paper issues from 1919 to 2017 there as well.
Linda and Billy
DIARY DATES
Poster by Jess Brock.
Now's the time to get your CHECC ticket!!! CHECC is the Council of Higher Education Caving Clubs, an organisation that brings student caving clubs together from all over the country. Please buy your own tickets, Transport will be sorted later. 🦇🦇
Poster by Jess Brock.
Now's the time to get your CHECC ticket!!! CHECC is the Council of Higher Education Caving Clubs, an organisation that brings student caving clubs together from all over the country. Please buy your own tickets, Transport will be sorted later. 🦇🦇
YAY! CAVING!
The UBSS hut. Photo by Lili Stiff.
Once again, freshers' weekend has kicked the uni year off to an incredible start! Alysia Ellis gives us an overview of what went on.
The excitement shared by all of us was blatant as we all piled into the car and ran around Lidl collecting all the bits and bobs we needed to make a meal for everybody, and this seemed to only get stronger as the night went on!
I spent the first half of the Saturday on call-out duty whilst almost everybody else went underground; it was very cathartic to go on a little walk up the hill for the first part of this - it’s been a long time since I left the city and I didn’t realise how much I missed the Mendips! I spent the second half of the day off on a trip down Swildon’s - which was incredible as always!
Alysia Ellis enjoying Swildon's Hole. Photo by Dan Rose.
I felt a little nervous before the trip, it was my first one acting as a second, but as soon as I slithered down the river into the cave I felt any anxiousness dissipate immediately.
We got a lot of chances to try modelling whilst exploring the underground, with Dan being an amazing photographer - but of course the main priority was the adventure! For some reason I thought it would be an amazing idea to slide down a waterfall (it wasn’t, my knee hurt for a week - but at least it’s a funny memory to look back on, and I certainly won’t be going underground without my knee pads again!)
Once we returned to the surface, we were greeted by Billy’s incredible lentil daal, which was a perfect way to ground ourselves a little before the party began! The party was incredible as always - with much dancing and a fire burning all night, even if I did spend most of it meandering around the hut chatting! We finished off the evening (or should I say morning?) listening to a few people having a go on the guitar around the campfire, which was a lovely relaxing end to the night.
Chilling out. Tom Evans (left) Johan Sontag (right). Photo by Alysia Ellis.
I’m so excited to be back at uni and even more excited to be caving again and can’t wait for next weekend and all the other trips and socials to come!
The UBSS hut. Photo by Lili Stiff.
Once again, freshers' weekend has kicked the uni year off to an incredible start! Alysia Ellis gives us an overview of what went on.
The excitement shared by all of us was blatant as we all piled into the car and ran around Lidl collecting all the bits and bobs we needed to make a meal for everybody, and this seemed to only get stronger as the night went on!
I spent the first half of the Saturday on call-out duty whilst almost everybody else went underground; it was very cathartic to go on a little walk up the hill for the first part of this - it’s been a long time since I left the city and I didn’t realise how much I missed the Mendips! I spent the second half of the day off on a trip down Swildon’s - which was incredible as always!
Alysia Ellis enjoying Swildon's Hole. Photo by Dan Rose.
I felt a little nervous before the trip, it was my first one acting as a second, but as soon as I slithered down the river into the cave I felt any anxiousness dissipate immediately.
We got a lot of chances to try modelling whilst exploring the underground, with Dan being an amazing photographer - but of course the main priority was the adventure! For some reason I thought it would be an amazing idea to slide down a waterfall (it wasn’t, my knee hurt for a week - but at least it’s a funny memory to look back on, and I certainly won’t be going underground without my knee pads again!)
Once we returned to the surface, we were greeted by Billy’s incredible lentil daal, which was a perfect way to ground ourselves a little before the party began! The party was incredible as always - with much dancing and a fire burning all night, even if I did spend most of it meandering around the hut chatting! We finished off the evening (or should I say morning?) listening to a few people having a go on the guitar around the campfire, which was a lovely relaxing end to the night.
Chilling out. Tom Evans (left) Johan Sontag (right). Photo by Alysia Ellis.
I’m so excited to be back at uni and even more excited to be caving again and can’t wait for next weekend and all the other trips and socials to come!
Alysia Ellis
And as a picture is said to be worth a thousand words, have a few more ...
Stal above the Lobster Pot in Sidcot Swallet. Photo by Jess Brock.
Jess Brock demonstrating SRTree at the Hut.
Left to right: Isaac Neale, Jessica Kuyawa, Dylan Tooley, James Hallihan in Sidcot Swallet. Photo by Jess Brock.
Stal above the Lobster Pot in Sidcot Swallet. Photo by Jess Brock.
Jess Brock demonstrating SRTree at the Hut.
Left to right: Isaac Neale, Jessica Kuyawa, Dylan Tooley, James Hallihan in Sidcot Swallet. Photo by Jess Brock.
IN PRAISE OF ....
Merryn Matthews (left) and Dan Runcan (right) during the refurbishment of the hut toilet this summer. Photo by Graham Mullan.
We are delighted to welcome Isaac Neale's mum Jenny as a guest correspondent and we applaud her staunch defence of one of the UBSS Hut's most charming features, the woodland toilet!
On a recent Sunday morning, I found myself called on a ‘rescue mission’ to UBSS hut. I’m a caver’s mum but not a caver. And caving is (and will remain) the mystery that it needs to. Misquoting from The Nobel Hustle by Colson Whitehead, “What happens inVegas Caving stays in Vegas Caving because in the end, whatever goes down, whatever you get up to, your triumphs and transgressions, nobody actually understands what it means except for you.”
Anyway, back to the issue. The UBSS Toilet. I needed a wee.
It was suggested that I acquire loo paper from said ‘toilet hut’ and perhaps I’d prefer to “head out into the wild”. The image envisioned, a loo that was something less than desirable. Checking final directions at a busy, lively hut, surrounded by lots of friendly people with a sharing-plate of coriander, UBSS toilet hut reviews continued to build a picture of something most unpleasant. The consensus being - go wild. “It’s a hole in the ground with a makeshift roof”. Hmmm, but I might as well have a look, I decided, I’ve experienced a lot of composting and wild toilets in my studies of ancient and alternative ways.
I was shocked! It’s one of the nicest outdoor loos I’ve ever visited! I really don’t understand the toilet shame I encountered. You don’t know how lucky you are! Light, airy, spacious, dry, private enough, decent underfoot, with much loo paper and other products carefully kept – awesome. It seemed to have ‘depth’ too. Always a good thing. There was no obvious insect infestation, no smell and no wee (or worse) on the seat and not a slug in sight. Goodness me, your loo shows up many a public convenience offering.
Initially I perceived it as beaten only by the temporary ‘leave no trace’ dug toilets at the circa 2010 Michael Hall Steiner Olympics Camp serving Bristol Steiner School.
Just as an aside, imagine many ‘pulled-though-a-hedge-backward’ styled 10-year-olds all bare-foot in their togas (compulsory wear, all week, for the event), preparing for their peer school Olympics. A week of wrestling, javelin, long jump and running events, vegetarian food – no ultra processing in sight - hearty song and only outside, screenless entertainment in the evenings. The Bristol kids’ activity of choice, rolling down the hill in their sleeping bags. (Parents who paid for said sleeping bags sighing heavily upon discovering this and having to pep talk themselves that this was ok; they’d chosen this education for a reason).
Returning to the main issue – your toilet. Your box-with-seat setup is very much like the school’s camping system, except theirs was newly vanished and with a freshly painted fixed toilet seat. A little more refined than the UBSS wobbly one. Wobbly though does seem to be a common occurrence these days – it might be fashionable - but I’m not a big fan.
‘Toilet paper dispensing’ wise, you and they had the same issue. Friction from the rope holder restricting dispensing. Using a stick to hold the paper roll could change that (perhaps employ a design student – my engineer husband didn’t manage to create the answer, so maybe avoid engineers). But this, nowadays, (toilet paper getting stuck) seems to be a built-in requirement for most public toilet systems (on second thoughts then perhaps don’t ask a design student).
The Steiner system offered two toilets – so there was choice (apparently one with ants, the other with gnats, a giant fly and a spider). They used shower tents as surrounds - so much better than toilet tents – as they give more height and space. The zip configuration is different to a toilet tent, opening at the top too, ideal for ventilation if required. Zipped up fully though they offered that odd, claustrophobic filtered dark-light found in tents.
I did like the fashion of your tent – was it once a parachute or a teepee? Light, spacious and airy inside – so unusual! I’m not sure whether your system has a method of securing the door flap, but to be honest, a sheltered wee with a view is always going to be preferable when it’s a pleasant woodland outlook.
So, on fuller reflection, yours wins.
To put the delightfulness of your loo in perspective, I thought that perhaps a sharing of how much worse it could be, would be helpful. But that’ll take a long time. Just trust me, you’ve a pretty good toilet set up. Be proud.
As for your access road though …. terrifying.
Merryn Matthews (left) and Dan Runcan (right) during the refurbishment of the hut toilet this summer. Photo by Graham Mullan.
We are delighted to welcome Isaac Neale's mum Jenny as a guest correspondent and we applaud her staunch defence of one of the UBSS Hut's most charming features, the woodland toilet!
On a recent Sunday morning, I found myself called on a ‘rescue mission’ to UBSS hut. I’m a caver’s mum but not a caver. And caving is (and will remain) the mystery that it needs to. Misquoting from The Nobel Hustle by Colson Whitehead, “What happens in
Anyway, back to the issue. The UBSS Toilet. I needed a wee.
It was suggested that I acquire loo paper from said ‘toilet hut’ and perhaps I’d prefer to “head out into the wild”. The image envisioned, a loo that was something less than desirable. Checking final directions at a busy, lively hut, surrounded by lots of friendly people with a sharing-plate of coriander, UBSS toilet hut reviews continued to build a picture of something most unpleasant. The consensus being - go wild. “It’s a hole in the ground with a makeshift roof”. Hmmm, but I might as well have a look, I decided, I’ve experienced a lot of composting and wild toilets in my studies of ancient and alternative ways.
I was shocked! It’s one of the nicest outdoor loos I’ve ever visited! I really don’t understand the toilet shame I encountered. You don’t know how lucky you are! Light, airy, spacious, dry, private enough, decent underfoot, with much loo paper and other products carefully kept – awesome. It seemed to have ‘depth’ too. Always a good thing. There was no obvious insect infestation, no smell and no wee (or worse) on the seat and not a slug in sight. Goodness me, your loo shows up many a public convenience offering.
Initially I perceived it as beaten only by the temporary ‘leave no trace’ dug toilets at the circa 2010 Michael Hall Steiner Olympics Camp serving Bristol Steiner School.
Just as an aside, imagine many ‘pulled-though-a-hedge-backward’ styled 10-year-olds all bare-foot in their togas (compulsory wear, all week, for the event), preparing for their peer school Olympics. A week of wrestling, javelin, long jump and running events, vegetarian food – no ultra processing in sight - hearty song and only outside, screenless entertainment in the evenings. The Bristol kids’ activity of choice, rolling down the hill in their sleeping bags. (Parents who paid for said sleeping bags sighing heavily upon discovering this and having to pep talk themselves that this was ok; they’d chosen this education for a reason).
Returning to the main issue – your toilet. Your box-with-seat setup is very much like the school’s camping system, except theirs was newly vanished and with a freshly painted fixed toilet seat. A little more refined than the UBSS wobbly one. Wobbly though does seem to be a common occurrence these days – it might be fashionable - but I’m not a big fan.
‘Toilet paper dispensing’ wise, you and they had the same issue. Friction from the rope holder restricting dispensing. Using a stick to hold the paper roll could change that (perhaps employ a design student – my engineer husband didn’t manage to create the answer, so maybe avoid engineers). But this, nowadays, (toilet paper getting stuck) seems to be a built-in requirement for most public toilet systems (on second thoughts then perhaps don’t ask a design student).
The Steiner system offered two toilets – so there was choice (apparently one with ants, the other with gnats, a giant fly and a spider). They used shower tents as surrounds - so much better than toilet tents – as they give more height and space. The zip configuration is different to a toilet tent, opening at the top too, ideal for ventilation if required. Zipped up fully though they offered that odd, claustrophobic filtered dark-light found in tents.
I did like the fashion of your tent – was it once a parachute or a teepee? Light, spacious and airy inside – so unusual! I’m not sure whether your system has a method of securing the door flap, but to be honest, a sheltered wee with a view is always going to be preferable when it’s a pleasant woodland outlook.
So, on fuller reflection, yours wins.
To put the delightfulness of your loo in perspective, I thought that perhaps a sharing of how much worse it could be, would be helpful. But that’ll take a long time. Just trust me, you’ve a pretty good toilet set up. Be proud.
As for your access road though …. terrifying.
Jenny Neale
JUST HANGING AROUND!
Dylan Tooley and Grace Smith. Photo by Billy Evans.
While we're waiting for bookings for the use of the stairwell in the Richmond Building to be confirmed, some creative use of other local facilities means that weekly training sessions in Single Rope Techniques (SRT) have now started as Kenneth MacIver explains...
Grace Smith hanging around in an arty photo by Kenneth MacIver.
Temporarily evicted from the usual hunting grounds of the Richmond building by bureaucracy (aka the time needed for the SU to confirm bookings), several alternative rigging plans were proposed.
Showing up to the session in the dark, I still wasn't sure which was satirical - the Children's Playpark, or the Suspension Bridge. Reassuringly, as I approached the former, I eventually saw a dangling Billy, hanging off the side of a fireman's pole. In the pitch black and, soon enough, pouring rain, we pressed on and under the skilful tuition of Billy and Dan we were soon abseiling the 2m drop down to the ground with ease, assembling descenders and learning how not to fall to a gory death (assuming we make our way onto some pitches taller than the playpark at some point...).
If you'd like to learn SRT, which is needed for the more vertical caves in Yorkshire and Derbyshire, email Billy Evans or message him on WhatsApp and he'll add you to the group chat for the arrangements.
Dylan Tooley and Grace Smith. Photo by Billy Evans.
While we're waiting for bookings for the use of the stairwell in the Richmond Building to be confirmed, some creative use of other local facilities means that weekly training sessions in Single Rope Techniques (SRT) have now started as Kenneth MacIver explains...
Grace Smith hanging around in an arty photo by Kenneth MacIver.
Temporarily evicted from the usual hunting grounds of the Richmond building by bureaucracy (aka the time needed for the SU to confirm bookings), several alternative rigging plans were proposed.
Showing up to the session in the dark, I still wasn't sure which was satirical - the Children's Playpark, or the Suspension Bridge. Reassuringly, as I approached the former, I eventually saw a dangling Billy, hanging off the side of a fireman's pole. In the pitch black and, soon enough, pouring rain, we pressed on and under the skilful tuition of Billy and Dan we were soon abseiling the 2m drop down to the ground with ease, assembling descenders and learning how not to fall to a gory death (assuming we make our way onto some pitches taller than the playpark at some point...).
Kenneth MacIver
If you'd like to learn SRT, which is needed for the more vertical caves in Yorkshire and Derbyshire, email Billy Evans or message him on WhatsApp and he'll add you to the group chat for the arrangements.
SWILDONS, AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!
The Old Grotto, Swildon's Hole. Photo by Stu Alldred.
Swildon's Hole is a poplar haunt at this time of year (and at other times as well!). Stu Alldred and Moon Devendra share some of their recent trips into its watery depths.
There was a time when I was subterranean 3 - 4 times a week, mostly Swildons, and spent every other weekend in Yorkshire or Derbyshire. But those days are long gone – settling into your 30s with a partner (99% retired caver), a dog and two kids can do that to you. I’ve only managed the odd trip here and there over the past seven years, half of which were introducing our two boys to caving. But a love of caving never goes away, so I’ve finally made it my mission to go few times a month.
After making an appearance at a pub social to greet the latest generation of UBSS members, I was eager to go on a trip. After I discovered that Tony Seddon was on Mendip that weekend with one remaining Neofleece in my size*, a trip to Swildons was going to be mandatory to test out my latest purchase. (*A highly sought-after replacement because my last one had not only “shrunk” but had also been turned into a nest by mice that had moved into our garage).
So, on a Saturday morning in October, I picked up Billy Evans from Fishponds and headed to the SU to collect Moon Devendra and some gear. As UBSS trips often do, faff began immediately. I arrived a few minutes late due to traffic and spent some time sorting through the massive pile of kit in the tackle store (tut… tut…) to find the necessary pieces. After finding oversized ladders and rope, we decided to visit the BEC instead to pick up more appropriately sized gear, but neither myself nor Billy had our key fobs. Fortunately, upon arrival, there were a couple of people already in the hut who, after some convincing that we were members, let us into the tackle store. From there, we went to the Wessex to pick up my new Neofleece and finally to the barn to get changed. At this point, despite leaving my house at 9am, it had already gone midday.
Moon in the entrances series. Photo by Stu Alldred.
We swiftly marched to the entrance of Swildons, briefly stopping at the map on Priddy Green to show Moon our planned route relative to the village houses. Upon arrival at the entrance, we discovered a large group from the Wessex had beaten us there and were slowly entering the cave. A few minutes later, it was our turn to head underground, but Moon’s headlamp kept turning off. Hooray! We decided to swap helmets and backup lights around, which involved me running to the car for a knife and fresh cable ties. I say “running,” but I’m not as fit as I used to be, and no one should ever EVER attempt to run in a wetsuit while it’s still dry. By the time I returned, Billy had realised I hadn’t turned on the flashlight properly and was just checking the battery levels - yay, me!
After all this time and faff, we were determined to have a great trip. We would reach Sump 1 and have a lovely time. Surely…
We quickly made our way through the Short Dry Way to the top of the Twenty (named for its hight of 20ft), only to find two large groups forming a giant queue, with occasional groups ascending the ladder. Since we were starting to feel cold, we decided to keep warm by walking up and down the passage. While doing so, we bumped into another group making their way down. We decided the sump would have to wait for another day and went to explore some of the upper series instead. We retrieved our kit bag and headed towards the bottom of the Forty (originally a 40ft pitch, but this was partially washed away in the great flood of 1968, so the usual route is now only a short, wet drop). The climb up this waterfall proved quite challenging due to the high water levels, but Moon performed exceptionally well for their first attempt (despite taking an unplanned lie-down at the very top and drinking some of the water).
We continued to follow the Long Dry route out, stopping for a Mars bar once we were warm enough, before squeezing through the zig-zags. Moon was very excited by the idea of exiting the cave via the tree entrance, and did the climb in no time at all!
Regrettably, we emerged into daylight too late to visit the Hunters’ Inn, but we still had to return to the Wessex to find Tony (to pay for my Neofleece) and return unused gear at the Belfry before heading home. After dropping everyone off, I finally made it back to my front door at 6pm.
We’ll make it to Sump 1 next time…and hopefully not faff as much!
Moon now takes up the tale to give their insights into the trip.
The entrance to Swildon's Hole. Photo by Stu Alldred.
The entrance to this particular cave was something I wasn't expecting - it was almost like dropping down a chute, but I've always imagined caves as things you walk into, with huge openings. Something I also found amazing was how much it didn't bother me being constantly wet and having wellies filled with water (I can only describe it as almost comforting), and how easy it was to grip and hold onto the cave surfaces even if they did look polished and slippery.
Formations. Photo by Stu Alldred.
I think the thing that stuck out to me was how monochromatic the cave was, everything appearing to be various shade of a light, easy-on-the-eyes brown, but how full of intricate details and rock formations and stalactites it is in every corner you look.
Emerging from the cave that first time really made me appreciate how bright and colourful the above ground world is. There was an interesting blend of textures on show below ground, and I was fascinated by being able to pick out the most well-travelled routes from how smooth and polished the walls and handholds were, but also looking at harder-to-reach areas, like ones closer to the ceiling, and inspecting how ragged and uneven the rock looked.
Swildon's old Grotto. Moon (left), Billy (right).
When we were in the wetter parts of the cave, I particularly enjoyed the sound of the rushing waterfall carrying throughout the cave - it was the perfect ambient sound - and the cold crispness of the cave air. The way caving is so creatively undignified was highlighted to me especially when I was trying to climb up a waterfall - I struggled to identify or even get a hold of any hand or footholds because of the ever-flowing stream of cold water, and only managed to wriggle out (with a technique Stuart called the 'beached whale'), after Billy had given me a foot upwards. Stuart was also pulling me out, as I was using each one of my limbs to wedge myself up into the opening, after lying at the top of the waterfall, bent over on a rock that was poking into my side, desperately trying to find some foothold to lock my foot in to be able to push myself upwards with.
Caving is a truly exhilarating, one-of-a-kind experience that I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to do, and I hope to have many more opportunities in the future to cave again!
As he promised himself, Stu made a return to Swildons, hoping for less faff but hopes soon faded as caving and faff seem to be a marriage made in heaven. Or maybe made in hell …
Swildon's streamway. Photo by Stu Alldred.
After Saturday’s trip to Swildons, I was keen to go again (I promise I’ll do a different cave ‘soon’ - but the next trip to Swildons is already planned). I was hoping for less faff this time, but there was initial chaos! What originally started as a fresher trip led by myself and Billy, became myself and Rosie with George and Kenneth, which became myself, Rosie, Teddy and Kenneth. James joined the trip to balance the load, then after Kenneth had to drop out, the group was finally myself, Rosie, Teddy, James and Dylan!
On the day, we managed to avoid quite a lot of faff as James had very kindly picked up the ladder and rope we needed earlier in the day. Dylan had his own kit, and I had enough spare gear to lend Teddy, so it was a quick pick-up at the tackle store before heading on our way. (Slight detour past Hellie’s house, as I had forgotten she was meeting us at the SU to drop off borrowed ladders, but she wasn’t in - she was at the SU. Thankfully, she doesn’t live far away, so it didn’t take long to head back).
On our way out to Priddy, we came across James walking along the road, so we stopped to pick him up. We were running ahead of schedule! This never happens on an UBSS trip! So shout out to Rosie, who was able to help us return to form by forgetting her contact lenses and having to detour past home to pick them up – also stopping by the nursery to pick up her daughter, Maisie. But she made it only 20 minutes later than we had originally planned to meet at Priddy Green, so we weren’t doing too badly!
The Swildons Twenty. Photo by Stu Alldred.
We got underground and quickly reached the Twenty. The water was still very high, which had made some of the climbs more sporting than usual. The ladder looked like it was going to be even more interesting, but it was quickly rigged, and everyone belayed down safely. Although we did stop briefly to let a couple of gentlemen past who were free climbing it. Then on we continued to get warm again.
After a few minutes, the two gentlemen passed us on their return trip after they had turned around at the sump. “See…it’s not that far!” I said to Teddy, glossing over the fact they were pretty much sprinting along the passage.
We made good progress down the streamway, past one of my favourite parts of the cave where I get to shout “do as I say, not as I do” before jumping into the Twin Pots (to aid people on the climbs, not just for fun). Slightly further along, Teddy accidentally discovered a slide down one of the climbs, but landed in a pool of water unharmed. When we reached the sump, we couldn’t even see the rope due to the amount of foam. Thankfully we had already discussed saving the sump for another day, as it looked quite unpleasant, and instead enjoyed a quick snack.
Sump One, looking less than inviting, with James Hallihan holding the rope.
As we made our way back out, we were emphasising to Teddy and Dylan about how amazing a post-trip visit to the Hunters was going to be…the open fire, the wooden barrels of beer, and the physics-defying amount of cheese and garlic they put into a bowl of pasta. It’s quite often the thought of Hunters that keeps me going when cold and tired in a Mendip cave (and once after a Welsh cave…mild detour).
The ladder climb proved a bit more of a challenge than it did on the way down, which wasn’t helped by the amount of water trying to knock us off. Once everyone was at the top, Rosie and James took Dylan and Teddy towards the exit to keep them warm, whilst I de-rigged. Very helpfully the ladder had become caught at the bottom, so another trip down and up the ladder was required. Just as I finished packing up, Rosie appeared and let me know everyone had made it up the waterfall climb. We quickly caught up and all proceeded out via the short dry.
Still looking cheerful. Left to right: Stu, Rosie, James, Teddy, Dylan.
After a quick walk across the field, and getting changed as fast as we could, we raced to the Hunters for Teddy and Dylan’s well-deserved hot meal… only to find it had already closed. So very sadly, we all had to make our way home with cold empty bellies. But there’s always next time!
And just to prove how dedicated Stu is to Swildon's and the newsletter, he made a return to the cave to take some 'stock' photos to accompany future write ups.
Caving can be fun! Si Hadfield (left), Stu Walker (right), in front of the camera for once.
The trip was also a great opportunity to catch up with the very lovely Simon Hadfield, as we hadn’t seen each other in years. We did a tour of Swildons, including Barnes' Loop, Tratman’s Temple, and Sump 2. However, taking photos of empty caves can be boring, so we had a few fun snaps along the way - enjoying a bubbly spa in the twin pots with a G&T. As soon as Mud Sump has re-opened, I’ll be back to photograph the short round…maybe with some rubber ducks for bath time in the ducks!
The Old Grotto, Swildon's Hole. Photo by Stu Alldred.
Swildon's Hole is a poplar haunt at this time of year (and at other times as well!). Stu Alldred and Moon Devendra share some of their recent trips into its watery depths.
There was a time when I was subterranean 3 - 4 times a week, mostly Swildons, and spent every other weekend in Yorkshire or Derbyshire. But those days are long gone – settling into your 30s with a partner (99% retired caver), a dog and two kids can do that to you. I’ve only managed the odd trip here and there over the past seven years, half of which were introducing our two boys to caving. But a love of caving never goes away, so I’ve finally made it my mission to go few times a month.
After making an appearance at a pub social to greet the latest generation of UBSS members, I was eager to go on a trip. After I discovered that Tony Seddon was on Mendip that weekend with one remaining Neofleece in my size*, a trip to Swildons was going to be mandatory to test out my latest purchase. (*A highly sought-after replacement because my last one had not only “shrunk” but had also been turned into a nest by mice that had moved into our garage).
So, on a Saturday morning in October, I picked up Billy Evans from Fishponds and headed to the SU to collect Moon Devendra and some gear. As UBSS trips often do, faff began immediately. I arrived a few minutes late due to traffic and spent some time sorting through the massive pile of kit in the tackle store (tut… tut…) to find the necessary pieces. After finding oversized ladders and rope, we decided to visit the BEC instead to pick up more appropriately sized gear, but neither myself nor Billy had our key fobs. Fortunately, upon arrival, there were a couple of people already in the hut who, after some convincing that we were members, let us into the tackle store. From there, we went to the Wessex to pick up my new Neofleece and finally to the barn to get changed. At this point, despite leaving my house at 9am, it had already gone midday.
Moon in the entrances series. Photo by Stu Alldred.
We swiftly marched to the entrance of Swildons, briefly stopping at the map on Priddy Green to show Moon our planned route relative to the village houses. Upon arrival at the entrance, we discovered a large group from the Wessex had beaten us there and were slowly entering the cave. A few minutes later, it was our turn to head underground, but Moon’s headlamp kept turning off. Hooray! We decided to swap helmets and backup lights around, which involved me running to the car for a knife and fresh cable ties. I say “running,” but I’m not as fit as I used to be, and no one should ever EVER attempt to run in a wetsuit while it’s still dry. By the time I returned, Billy had realised I hadn’t turned on the flashlight properly and was just checking the battery levels - yay, me!
After all this time and faff, we were determined to have a great trip. We would reach Sump 1 and have a lovely time. Surely…
We quickly made our way through the Short Dry Way to the top of the Twenty (named for its hight of 20ft), only to find two large groups forming a giant queue, with occasional groups ascending the ladder. Since we were starting to feel cold, we decided to keep warm by walking up and down the passage. While doing so, we bumped into another group making their way down. We decided the sump would have to wait for another day and went to explore some of the upper series instead. We retrieved our kit bag and headed towards the bottom of the Forty (originally a 40ft pitch, but this was partially washed away in the great flood of 1968, so the usual route is now only a short, wet drop). The climb up this waterfall proved quite challenging due to the high water levels, but Moon performed exceptionally well for their first attempt (despite taking an unplanned lie-down at the very top and drinking some of the water).
We continued to follow the Long Dry route out, stopping for a Mars bar once we were warm enough, before squeezing through the zig-zags. Moon was very excited by the idea of exiting the cave via the tree entrance, and did the climb in no time at all!
Regrettably, we emerged into daylight too late to visit the Hunters’ Inn, but we still had to return to the Wessex to find Tony (to pay for my Neofleece) and return unused gear at the Belfry before heading home. After dropping everyone off, I finally made it back to my front door at 6pm.
We’ll make it to Sump 1 next time…and hopefully not faff as much!
Stu Alldred
Moon now takes up the tale to give their insights into the trip.
The entrance to Swildon's Hole. Photo by Stu Alldred.
The entrance to this particular cave was something I wasn't expecting - it was almost like dropping down a chute, but I've always imagined caves as things you walk into, with huge openings. Something I also found amazing was how much it didn't bother me being constantly wet and having wellies filled with water (I can only describe it as almost comforting), and how easy it was to grip and hold onto the cave surfaces even if they did look polished and slippery.
Formations. Photo by Stu Alldred.
I think the thing that stuck out to me was how monochromatic the cave was, everything appearing to be various shade of a light, easy-on-the-eyes brown, but how full of intricate details and rock formations and stalactites it is in every corner you look.
Emerging from the cave that first time really made me appreciate how bright and colourful the above ground world is. There was an interesting blend of textures on show below ground, and I was fascinated by being able to pick out the most well-travelled routes from how smooth and polished the walls and handholds were, but also looking at harder-to-reach areas, like ones closer to the ceiling, and inspecting how ragged and uneven the rock looked.
Swildon's old Grotto. Moon (left), Billy (right).
When we were in the wetter parts of the cave, I particularly enjoyed the sound of the rushing waterfall carrying throughout the cave - it was the perfect ambient sound - and the cold crispness of the cave air. The way caving is so creatively undignified was highlighted to me especially when I was trying to climb up a waterfall - I struggled to identify or even get a hold of any hand or footholds because of the ever-flowing stream of cold water, and only managed to wriggle out (with a technique Stuart called the 'beached whale'), after Billy had given me a foot upwards. Stuart was also pulling me out, as I was using each one of my limbs to wedge myself up into the opening, after lying at the top of the waterfall, bent over on a rock that was poking into my side, desperately trying to find some foothold to lock my foot in to be able to push myself upwards with.
Caving is a truly exhilarating, one-of-a-kind experience that I am very grateful to have had the opportunity to do, and I hope to have many more opportunities in the future to cave again!
Moon Devendra
As he promised himself, Stu made a return to Swildons, hoping for less faff but hopes soon faded as caving and faff seem to be a marriage made in heaven. Or maybe made in hell …
Swildon's streamway. Photo by Stu Alldred.
After Saturday’s trip to Swildons, I was keen to go again (I promise I’ll do a different cave ‘soon’ - but the next trip to Swildons is already planned). I was hoping for less faff this time, but there was initial chaos! What originally started as a fresher trip led by myself and Billy, became myself and Rosie with George and Kenneth, which became myself, Rosie, Teddy and Kenneth. James joined the trip to balance the load, then after Kenneth had to drop out, the group was finally myself, Rosie, Teddy, James and Dylan!
On the day, we managed to avoid quite a lot of faff as James had very kindly picked up the ladder and rope we needed earlier in the day. Dylan had his own kit, and I had enough spare gear to lend Teddy, so it was a quick pick-up at the tackle store before heading on our way. (Slight detour past Hellie’s house, as I had forgotten she was meeting us at the SU to drop off borrowed ladders, but she wasn’t in - she was at the SU. Thankfully, she doesn’t live far away, so it didn’t take long to head back).
On our way out to Priddy, we came across James walking along the road, so we stopped to pick him up. We were running ahead of schedule! This never happens on an UBSS trip! So shout out to Rosie, who was able to help us return to form by forgetting her contact lenses and having to detour past home to pick them up – also stopping by the nursery to pick up her daughter, Maisie. But she made it only 20 minutes later than we had originally planned to meet at Priddy Green, so we weren’t doing too badly!
The Swildons Twenty. Photo by Stu Alldred.
We got underground and quickly reached the Twenty. The water was still very high, which had made some of the climbs more sporting than usual. The ladder looked like it was going to be even more interesting, but it was quickly rigged, and everyone belayed down safely. Although we did stop briefly to let a couple of gentlemen past who were free climbing it. Then on we continued to get warm again.
After a few minutes, the two gentlemen passed us on their return trip after they had turned around at the sump. “See…it’s not that far!” I said to Teddy, glossing over the fact they were pretty much sprinting along the passage.
We made good progress down the streamway, past one of my favourite parts of the cave where I get to shout “do as I say, not as I do” before jumping into the Twin Pots (to aid people on the climbs, not just for fun). Slightly further along, Teddy accidentally discovered a slide down one of the climbs, but landed in a pool of water unharmed. When we reached the sump, we couldn’t even see the rope due to the amount of foam. Thankfully we had already discussed saving the sump for another day, as it looked quite unpleasant, and instead enjoyed a quick snack.
Sump One, looking less than inviting, with James Hallihan holding the rope.
As we made our way back out, we were emphasising to Teddy and Dylan about how amazing a post-trip visit to the Hunters was going to be…the open fire, the wooden barrels of beer, and the physics-defying amount of cheese and garlic they put into a bowl of pasta. It’s quite often the thought of Hunters that keeps me going when cold and tired in a Mendip cave (and once after a Welsh cave…mild detour).
The ladder climb proved a bit more of a challenge than it did on the way down, which wasn’t helped by the amount of water trying to knock us off. Once everyone was at the top, Rosie and James took Dylan and Teddy towards the exit to keep them warm, whilst I de-rigged. Very helpfully the ladder had become caught at the bottom, so another trip down and up the ladder was required. Just as I finished packing up, Rosie appeared and let me know everyone had made it up the waterfall climb. We quickly caught up and all proceeded out via the short dry.
Still looking cheerful. Left to right: Stu, Rosie, James, Teddy, Dylan.
After a quick walk across the field, and getting changed as fast as we could, we raced to the Hunters for Teddy and Dylan’s well-deserved hot meal… only to find it had already closed. So very sadly, we all had to make our way home with cold empty bellies. But there’s always next time!
Stu Alldred
And just to prove how dedicated Stu is to Swildon's and the newsletter, he made a return to the cave to take some 'stock' photos to accompany future write ups.
Caving can be fun! Si Hadfield (left), Stu Walker (right), in front of the camera for once.
The trip was also a great opportunity to catch up with the very lovely Simon Hadfield, as we hadn’t seen each other in years. We did a tour of Swildons, including Barnes' Loop, Tratman’s Temple, and Sump 2. However, taking photos of empty caves can be boring, so we had a few fun snaps along the way - enjoying a bubbly spa in the twin pots with a G&T. As soon as Mud Sump has re-opened, I’ll be back to photograph the short round…maybe with some rubber ducks for bath time in the ducks!
Stu Alldred
A MOST TREPIDACIOUS TALE
In the absence of any photots, we felt this might do instead to give the flavour of what went on.
Stanley Lewis shares the story of a Yorkshire trip that turned out to be somewhat more arduous than expected, where teamwork finally triumphed over adversity and a lost light was found.
I must start off this trepidatious tale with an apology to Linda, as I am writing this entry about a month and half after we made our way through the court of Kings Pot. [Editor’s note: And I owe Stanley an apology for totally misfiling this trepidatious tale!] Why has there been such a delay? I'm lazy. Sorry for making you remind me 16,000 times, I’m sure you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. [Editor’s note: You’re forgiven! And please forgive me for temporarily misplacing your immortal prose!]
Our journey into King Pot fell on Thursday, 4th July in a week we affectionately monikered ‘cave till you drop’. Me, Ben Morgan, Dan Rose and Billy Evans had a hankering for some SRT, given a seeming absence of enthusiasm for using our feet and eating dirt in Mendip, we met up on a Sunday Night at mine, watched England secure their place in the Euro semis and then made our way up to Yorkshire at the crack of dawn (9:30) the day after. What proceeded was a ramble of caving, drinking and other likewise shenanigans. We met new friends, forged new bonds. And we insisted that just one day, we would leave the Alum main hangs to the side, and have a crack at something challenging. In a beer fuelled argument at the Red Rose cottage, the decision was made that this challenge would be King Pot.
We set out in the morning with a spring in our step and 15 creme eggs in our bag, singing with gay abandon all 30 minutes of the car ride. It took one hour and some inadvisably steep hills to locate the entrance to the cave. Maybe this was foreshadowing?
After a short climb down through a sinkhole, a quick squeeze takes you to the first entrance pitch, easily navigated even by the most dyspraxic of speleos. Below the first pitch you crawl to the left entering a chamber where a short climb down leads you to Ash Bottomed traverse with a questionably frayed rope. Some wiggling and negotiating leads to a body sized hole. When negotiated, this lands directly onto the second pitch. After this, there is a mix of crawling and open passage with moderately well decorated ceilings and an enjoyably wet streamway.
I just want to specify to readers that this is not in any way a route description and in terms of exact directions, is probably a bit wrong. It took us around two hours to reach this point, and the reason I'm skipping over a lot is because to be honest, it’s not that interesting. Imagine a weird meshing of Swildon’s upper series and short round trip without the sumps and that is what you have. Finally, we reached the hardest part of the cave according to Not For the Faint Hearted, an exposed belly crawl traverse with a 4m drop that threatened to wedge you in. This ended with a moderately tight exit which immediately dropped down about five metres. Imagine an upside down L.
However, despite a couple of minor slips, caught by cowstails and an in situ handline on the way down, all of us were left remarking the lack of challenge it had caused us, wondering if maybe this would be an easier day then planned.
We carried on down the cave, negotiating crawls, squeezes, pitches and all other manner of fun until we reached Victoria. We rigged and I descended but unbeknownst to me, above me Billy had got quite cold and we had passed our set turnaround time. The decision was made that although we were close to the end of our route, in the interest of group safety and not missing our callout, we would turn back, with Billy and Dan ahead and Ben and I de-rigging. This was all done knowing it had been good craic and we would emerge to a Labour government for the first time in our political memories.
However, what we didn’t realise about King Pot, is that although nothing had been too trying on its own, the constant manoeuvring, crawling and contorting (admittedly more for me at 90kg than Ben at 65kg) does take a physical toll, and the entire way back out the cave is at a slight uphill slant. This, combined with the ridiculous amount of rope we were lugging around, meant every step was rapidly becoming harder than one before. We soldiered on, not deterred, however signs of tiredness were starting to show. This is where we arrived back at the traverse, and to our surprise Ben and I had caught up with Dan and Billy, who were struggling with a big bag of rope. See, while this traverse had been moderately easy on the way in, the raised entrance, tight angle and bag swallowing pit below was proving to be a bigger challenge than anticipated on the way back, and that is when it all went wrong!
‘Fuckkkkkkkk!’Billy’s scream echoed throughout the chamber, interrupting Ben regaling us about another time he had sent a fresher up a death climb for seemingly little more than his own amusement (for legal reasons this is a joke). ‘I’ve lost my light!’ The words you never want to hear, especially when it’s an £80 club Fenix. Billy’s light had been knocked off his head into the crevice below with seemingly no recourse to reclaim it. This was not good, but I quickly told Billy there was no need to worry, and that I had the spare one around my neck. I passed it to Dan who slung it up to Billy, but instead of illuminating the route ahead, I heard a worried call that it had got wet and it wasn’t working too! Billy was cold and he needed to get out asap, so we told him to pass it over. Ben and I inspected it, only to find that although we had remembered to pack the light and not lose it the whole way down, seemingly no one had thought a battery might be a good addition to bring too. Oopsie.
Now with an ever colder Billy ahead, I gave him my light, with me, Ben and Dan resolving we’d have to make it work with just three. We drew up a plan where I would crawl into the traverse, Dan would take the big bag and Ben would follow behind and wrangle it, so in relative darkness I climbed up the handline, through the hole and sat there and waited. And then for the next 30 minutes, I waited some more.
It's a strange darkness. You don’t really think you'll be scared of it, not anymore, not since you stopped wetting the bed when you were four. But after 30 minutes, your whole body pressed against ice cold rock and no light apart from brief glimpses behind you, your mind starts to crave illumination. It needs to see. Just as a cigarette is to a smoker, I began to need the light and finally, around 40 minutes of darkness later I relented. I shouted back to Dan and Ben that this wasn’t working, that we needed to figure out another way and I was coming back out.
However, on that short journey back, I spotted a light below me in the stream. Sitting, staring with its cyclops’ beam right below the water was Billy’s Fenix. The decision was made to spend five minutes trying to get it and if we had no success, we’d just carry on as planned.
Ben fashioned a line out of a rope, a krab and hair band and went fishing. He explained that he couldn’t quite get it but he was knocking it which made me think there may be a way to reach it from the chamber we were in. I followed it down a little bit and found the end of the stream, reaching blind round a corner.
“A hand, its a hand” screamed Ben filling us all with hope. Sadly, my large shoulders and lack of light made me a bad choice for the pickup but Dan reached his arm around, eliciting screams and cheers which could have lasted all night if not for the ever present threat of missing callout looming large over us.
From here, we strategised, working a way through the tight end of the traverse we had affectionately named ‘the crux’. With ropes being slung out of bags and a superhuman effort from Ben, all of us were reunited on the other side. What had just happened was the truest definition of teamwork in action, with it ultimately taking us about 70 minutes to get past a 50m section of cave, but through all the exhaustion, I had developed a deep admiration and appreciation for both what had just happened, and the people it had happened with. We made our way back through the cave, finally emerging and immediately seeking the worst Chinese takeaway possible and the coldest pint in the area
As a cave, King Pot really is a good bit of fun. Tight SRT, slimy squeezes, tall streamways, climbs. Really I can’t recommend it more. In a strange masochistic way it was one of the highlights of our trip, but just make sure you give yourself enough time, because it is certainly trickier on the way out.
In the absence of any photots, we felt this might do instead to give the flavour of what went on.
Stanley Lewis shares the story of a Yorkshire trip that turned out to be somewhat more arduous than expected, where teamwork finally triumphed over adversity and a lost light was found.
I must start off this trepidatious tale with an apology to Linda, as I am writing this entry about a month and half after we made our way through the court of Kings Pot. [Editor’s note: And I owe Stanley an apology for totally misfiling this trepidatious tale!] Why has there been such a delay? I'm lazy. Sorry for making you remind me 16,000 times, I’m sure you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. [Editor’s note: You’re forgiven! And please forgive me for temporarily misplacing your immortal prose!]
Our journey into King Pot fell on Thursday, 4th July in a week we affectionately monikered ‘cave till you drop’. Me, Ben Morgan, Dan Rose and Billy Evans had a hankering for some SRT, given a seeming absence of enthusiasm for using our feet and eating dirt in Mendip, we met up on a Sunday Night at mine, watched England secure their place in the Euro semis and then made our way up to Yorkshire at the crack of dawn (9:30) the day after. What proceeded was a ramble of caving, drinking and other likewise shenanigans. We met new friends, forged new bonds. And we insisted that just one day, we would leave the Alum main hangs to the side, and have a crack at something challenging. In a beer fuelled argument at the Red Rose cottage, the decision was made that this challenge would be King Pot.
We set out in the morning with a spring in our step and 15 creme eggs in our bag, singing with gay abandon all 30 minutes of the car ride. It took one hour and some inadvisably steep hills to locate the entrance to the cave. Maybe this was foreshadowing?
After a short climb down through a sinkhole, a quick squeeze takes you to the first entrance pitch, easily navigated even by the most dyspraxic of speleos. Below the first pitch you crawl to the left entering a chamber where a short climb down leads you to Ash Bottomed traverse with a questionably frayed rope. Some wiggling and negotiating leads to a body sized hole. When negotiated, this lands directly onto the second pitch. After this, there is a mix of crawling and open passage with moderately well decorated ceilings and an enjoyably wet streamway.
I just want to specify to readers that this is not in any way a route description and in terms of exact directions, is probably a bit wrong. It took us around two hours to reach this point, and the reason I'm skipping over a lot is because to be honest, it’s not that interesting. Imagine a weird meshing of Swildon’s upper series and short round trip without the sumps and that is what you have. Finally, we reached the hardest part of the cave according to Not For the Faint Hearted, an exposed belly crawl traverse with a 4m drop that threatened to wedge you in. This ended with a moderately tight exit which immediately dropped down about five metres. Imagine an upside down L.
However, despite a couple of minor slips, caught by cowstails and an in situ handline on the way down, all of us were left remarking the lack of challenge it had caused us, wondering if maybe this would be an easier day then planned.
We carried on down the cave, negotiating crawls, squeezes, pitches and all other manner of fun until we reached Victoria. We rigged and I descended but unbeknownst to me, above me Billy had got quite cold and we had passed our set turnaround time. The decision was made that although we were close to the end of our route, in the interest of group safety and not missing our callout, we would turn back, with Billy and Dan ahead and Ben and I de-rigging. This was all done knowing it had been good craic and we would emerge to a Labour government for the first time in our political memories.
However, what we didn’t realise about King Pot, is that although nothing had been too trying on its own, the constant manoeuvring, crawling and contorting (admittedly more for me at 90kg than Ben at 65kg) does take a physical toll, and the entire way back out the cave is at a slight uphill slant. This, combined with the ridiculous amount of rope we were lugging around, meant every step was rapidly becoming harder than one before. We soldiered on, not deterred, however signs of tiredness were starting to show. This is where we arrived back at the traverse, and to our surprise Ben and I had caught up with Dan and Billy, who were struggling with a big bag of rope. See, while this traverse had been moderately easy on the way in, the raised entrance, tight angle and bag swallowing pit below was proving to be a bigger challenge than anticipated on the way back, and that is when it all went wrong!
‘Fuckkkkkkkk!’Billy’s scream echoed throughout the chamber, interrupting Ben regaling us about another time he had sent a fresher up a death climb for seemingly little more than his own amusement (for legal reasons this is a joke). ‘I’ve lost my light!’ The words you never want to hear, especially when it’s an £80 club Fenix. Billy’s light had been knocked off his head into the crevice below with seemingly no recourse to reclaim it. This was not good, but I quickly told Billy there was no need to worry, and that I had the spare one around my neck. I passed it to Dan who slung it up to Billy, but instead of illuminating the route ahead, I heard a worried call that it had got wet and it wasn’t working too! Billy was cold and he needed to get out asap, so we told him to pass it over. Ben and I inspected it, only to find that although we had remembered to pack the light and not lose it the whole way down, seemingly no one had thought a battery might be a good addition to bring too. Oopsie.
Now with an ever colder Billy ahead, I gave him my light, with me, Ben and Dan resolving we’d have to make it work with just three. We drew up a plan where I would crawl into the traverse, Dan would take the big bag and Ben would follow behind and wrangle it, so in relative darkness I climbed up the handline, through the hole and sat there and waited. And then for the next 30 minutes, I waited some more.
It's a strange darkness. You don’t really think you'll be scared of it, not anymore, not since you stopped wetting the bed when you were four. But after 30 minutes, your whole body pressed against ice cold rock and no light apart from brief glimpses behind you, your mind starts to crave illumination. It needs to see. Just as a cigarette is to a smoker, I began to need the light and finally, around 40 minutes of darkness later I relented. I shouted back to Dan and Ben that this wasn’t working, that we needed to figure out another way and I was coming back out.
However, on that short journey back, I spotted a light below me in the stream. Sitting, staring with its cyclops’ beam right below the water was Billy’s Fenix. The decision was made to spend five minutes trying to get it and if we had no success, we’d just carry on as planned.
Ben fashioned a line out of a rope, a krab and hair band and went fishing. He explained that he couldn’t quite get it but he was knocking it which made me think there may be a way to reach it from the chamber we were in. I followed it down a little bit and found the end of the stream, reaching blind round a corner.
“A hand, its a hand” screamed Ben filling us all with hope. Sadly, my large shoulders and lack of light made me a bad choice for the pickup but Dan reached his arm around, eliciting screams and cheers which could have lasted all night if not for the ever present threat of missing callout looming large over us.
From here, we strategised, working a way through the tight end of the traverse we had affectionately named ‘the crux’. With ropes being slung out of bags and a superhuman effort from Ben, all of us were reunited on the other side. What had just happened was the truest definition of teamwork in action, with it ultimately taking us about 70 minutes to get past a 50m section of cave, but through all the exhaustion, I had developed a deep admiration and appreciation for both what had just happened, and the people it had happened with. We made our way back through the cave, finally emerging and immediately seeking the worst Chinese takeaway possible and the coldest pint in the area
As a cave, King Pot really is a good bit of fun. Tight SRT, slimy squeezes, tall streamways, climbs. Really I can’t recommend it more. In a strange masochistic way it was one of the highlights of our trip, but just make sure you give yourself enough time, because it is certainly trickier on the way out.
Stanley Lewis
SURVEYING IN REDHOUSE LANE SWALLET
Elaine Oliver surveying with a DistoX. Photo copyright © Peter Hall.
The Redhouse Lane Swallet breakthrough talk at this year’s Hidden Earth was surely the highlight of the conference (with UBSS member Mark Tringham’s excellent survey of the latest finds also winning the Survey Salon prize) – and on the last weekend of September, Elaine Oliver was lucky enough to be invited on a trip with the regular digging crew to help with some surveying and conservation work.
This cave guards its secrets well: through a concrete tube to the Horror Choke, followed by an hour of leopard crawling through low, cobbly and occasionally extremely wet bedding planes, tubes and ducks. Tackle sacks only add to the fun! Aficionados of Coolagh River Cave and Stoke Lane Swallet will be in their element (though unlike the latter, I did not see a single floating turd on my trip down Redhouse). Aficionados of being warm are advised to bring along some neoprene for the entrance series, or consider the pub.
On this sunny Saturday in September, we weren’t even sure we’d get in given the rain that had fallen during the week. The going was damp, with Joel behind me reassuringly muttering things like “this bit doesn’t usually have water in it...” - but with the occasional nose in the roof, the way proved clear, and before too long we reached the breakthrough point and were soon able to ditch the large and unwieldy rescue dump bags we’d brought to live in the cave in case of emergency.
With 11 cavers heading underground and plenty of cave to go around, we split into four teams to maximise gains. I joined Joel and Pete to try and tick off a few promising question marks off Easter Island Chamber. Once I’d got over the initial shock of the vast blackness beyond Tiff’s Treat, our aim was to push these leads to see if we could regain the streamway lost further back in the cave. I’ll leave the details of what we found to the next Descent write-up, but suffice to say that the teams combined have added significant distance to the cave, and have also left some exciting ongoing A-leads as a treat for another day. It felt good to be behind a Disto again!
New passage in Redhouse Lane Swallet. Photo copyright © Mark Tringham.
After pushing the first two leads as far as we could with the equipment available, Joel had to leave, but with five hours til call-out Pete and I decided to press on to kill off a few more leads. There were several points throughout this trip where we wrestled quite hard with exploration fever: we’d often see tantalising voids through a loose choke and be trying to work out how to get there without breathing or touching anything. It’s important to remember that exploratory caving is not like sporting trips, where boulders are often well settled and stabilised, and an accident in Redhouse would have extremely serious implications. Aside from the fact that it’s unlikely you’d get a stretcher through all of the arduous crawls, the entrance series regularly floods to the roof, and access is impossible during the winter months. Sometimes the right answer is to bravely run away.
So once we’d had enough of scaring ourselves in horrible boulder ruckles, we decided to head deeper into the cave to find out how Team Macaroni Marl had got on and to listen for streamway noises at another ongoing lead – which would also offer me a chance to see some of the other new discoveries announced at Hidden Earth. I was constantly amazed at how quickly the character of the cave changed: from frost-shattered breakdown, to smooth, water-worn cross-rifts, into bands of marl meeting crease limestone… For me, the highlights (aside from the sheer size of some of the passageways) were the sparkling crystals in Tim’s Zone of Mindless Optimism and the incredible Gobstopper Chamber at the end of Off to See the Wizard, with a perfect rainbow of colours swirling across the ceiling.
New passage in Redhouse Lane Swallet. Photo copyright © Mark Tringham.
Having reached our turnaround point, we decided to helpfully bring all the tools which had been placed in Easter Island Chamber back to Rhinestone Junction. We later discovered they’d been taken FROM Rhinestone TO Easter Island only an hour before… oops! Pete and I agreed that there seemed to be a little more water on the way out than going in: I counted five don’t-create-a-bow-wave moments rather than the two I experienced going in. Emerging to the surface 11 hours after we’d entered the cave, it transpired that Tim had gone to the pub with my clothes and both my and Pete’s phones/wallets. For a while it looked like I would have to pretend to be a tackle sack in Pete’s boot, but thankfully Tim reappeared with them at just the right moment and I was able to enter the pub in something approaching decent attire.
This cave will soon make a cracking trip for more experienced and enthusiastic cavers, however it is currently closed for sporting access until the exploration/surveying/conservation work is completed. Access once it reopens will be via the Forest of Dean Cave Conservation and Access Group (FoDCCAG) permit system (as for Otter Hole, Slaughter Stream and Miss Grace’s Lane).
Elaine Oliver surveying with a DistoX. Photo copyright © Peter Hall.
The Redhouse Lane Swallet breakthrough talk at this year’s Hidden Earth was surely the highlight of the conference (with UBSS member Mark Tringham’s excellent survey of the latest finds also winning the Survey Salon prize) – and on the last weekend of September, Elaine Oliver was lucky enough to be invited on a trip with the regular digging crew to help with some surveying and conservation work.
This cave guards its secrets well: through a concrete tube to the Horror Choke, followed by an hour of leopard crawling through low, cobbly and occasionally extremely wet bedding planes, tubes and ducks. Tackle sacks only add to the fun! Aficionados of Coolagh River Cave and Stoke Lane Swallet will be in their element (though unlike the latter, I did not see a single floating turd on my trip down Redhouse). Aficionados of being warm are advised to bring along some neoprene for the entrance series, or consider the pub.
On this sunny Saturday in September, we weren’t even sure we’d get in given the rain that had fallen during the week. The going was damp, with Joel behind me reassuringly muttering things like “this bit doesn’t usually have water in it...” - but with the occasional nose in the roof, the way proved clear, and before too long we reached the breakthrough point and were soon able to ditch the large and unwieldy rescue dump bags we’d brought to live in the cave in case of emergency.
With 11 cavers heading underground and plenty of cave to go around, we split into four teams to maximise gains. I joined Joel and Pete to try and tick off a few promising question marks off Easter Island Chamber. Once I’d got over the initial shock of the vast blackness beyond Tiff’s Treat, our aim was to push these leads to see if we could regain the streamway lost further back in the cave. I’ll leave the details of what we found to the next Descent write-up, but suffice to say that the teams combined have added significant distance to the cave, and have also left some exciting ongoing A-leads as a treat for another day. It felt good to be behind a Disto again!
New passage in Redhouse Lane Swallet. Photo copyright © Mark Tringham.
After pushing the first two leads as far as we could with the equipment available, Joel had to leave, but with five hours til call-out Pete and I decided to press on to kill off a few more leads. There were several points throughout this trip where we wrestled quite hard with exploration fever: we’d often see tantalising voids through a loose choke and be trying to work out how to get there without breathing or touching anything. It’s important to remember that exploratory caving is not like sporting trips, where boulders are often well settled and stabilised, and an accident in Redhouse would have extremely serious implications. Aside from the fact that it’s unlikely you’d get a stretcher through all of the arduous crawls, the entrance series regularly floods to the roof, and access is impossible during the winter months. Sometimes the right answer is to bravely run away.
So once we’d had enough of scaring ourselves in horrible boulder ruckles, we decided to head deeper into the cave to find out how Team Macaroni Marl had got on and to listen for streamway noises at another ongoing lead – which would also offer me a chance to see some of the other new discoveries announced at Hidden Earth. I was constantly amazed at how quickly the character of the cave changed: from frost-shattered breakdown, to smooth, water-worn cross-rifts, into bands of marl meeting crease limestone… For me, the highlights (aside from the sheer size of some of the passageways) were the sparkling crystals in Tim’s Zone of Mindless Optimism and the incredible Gobstopper Chamber at the end of Off to See the Wizard, with a perfect rainbow of colours swirling across the ceiling.
New passage in Redhouse Lane Swallet. Photo copyright © Mark Tringham.
Having reached our turnaround point, we decided to helpfully bring all the tools which had been placed in Easter Island Chamber back to Rhinestone Junction. We later discovered they’d been taken FROM Rhinestone TO Easter Island only an hour before… oops! Pete and I agreed that there seemed to be a little more water on the way out than going in: I counted five don’t-create-a-bow-wave moments rather than the two I experienced going in. Emerging to the surface 11 hours after we’d entered the cave, it transpired that Tim had gone to the pub with my clothes and both my and Pete’s phones/wallets. For a while it looked like I would have to pretend to be a tackle sack in Pete’s boot, but thankfully Tim reappeared with them at just the right moment and I was able to enter the pub in something approaching decent attire.
This cave will soon make a cracking trip for more experienced and enthusiastic cavers, however it is currently closed for sporting access until the exploration/surveying/conservation work is completed. Access once it reopens will be via the Forest of Dean Cave Conservation and Access Group (FoDCCAG) permit system (as for Otter Hole, Slaughter Stream and Miss Grace’s Lane).
Elaine Oliver
UBSS IRELAND EXPEDITION 2024
Megan Malpas (left) and Imogen Clement-Jones (right) surveying in Coolagh River Cave. Photo by Jess Brock.
UBSS members returned to Ireland this supper, spending a few days caving in Fermanagh before heading south to the usual UBSS stamping grounds of the Burren in Co Clare to build on work carried out over the past few years. Expedition Coordinator, Dan Runcan, had put together a short report on the formal side of the trip.
Participants: Gabriel Littler, Jess Brock, Megan Malpas, Imogen Clement-Jones, Merryn Matthews, Dan Runcan, Stanley Lewis, Dan Rose, Billy Evans, Ben Morgan, Felix Arnautovic, Dan Hill, Sam Bowers, Peter Ward.
OUTPUTS
1. Erosion measurement project
We searched for a number of erosion measurement stations installed in the ’60s and ’70s as part of a research project aiming to measure the rate of calcite erosion in caves. Most stations in Cullaun One that are accessible have been found, and measurements of the proudness of the metal studs still in situ have been taken. This should allow us, by comparison with previous measurements, to obtain a value for the rate of erosion that can be compared to previous estimates. A number of studs that were completely eroded out of the rock, and sitting in the streamway, have been retrieved. Again, based on previous observations, we can learn where these studs were originally placed and get an idea of the actual erosion that had to take place for them to be completely removed.
A typical Co Clare streamway: dark, sinuous and wet. Photo by Jess Brock.
2. Coolagh River Cave Survey (Total length of surveyed passage: ~270m)
West Entrance was relocated after not having been visited for a number of years. A new description of how to find this entrance will be written alongside a new set of GPS coordinates as the old ones seemed to be quite off.
We started surveying passage beginning at West Entrance. We do not believe we have reached the too narrow passage mentioned in the previous description yet; survey seems to have reached approximately half way to the constriction at the end.
Progress has also been made in the Upper Bedding Plane where one of the leads has been pushed to its end. However, more leads have been found along this section that remain to be pushed alongside other parts of the Upper Bedding. West inlet has also been extended by a few metres.
3. Training and connections
Most participants got an introduction to cave surveying as well as the chance to do it in practice, trying out the different roles in a surveying team.
The group got to expand their caving expertise by visiting different caves both in County Fermanagh as well as Co Clare.
During the weekend spent in Co Clare we also got together with a small group of Irish cavers from Limerick and from different Dublin clubs and caved together. This, and having Peter a member of Queen’s University Belfast Caving Club, as a participant for the whole duration created some more connections between our club and the Irish caving community which will hopefully prove fruitful in the future.
Plenty of photos were taken and more informal reports are being produced for the newsletter (see last month's story of the daring rescue of Fergus the Fulmar!) which will help introduce new members of the club to cave surveying and caving expeditions.
Taking a well-earned rest from surveying. Left to right: Gabriel Littler, Imogen Clement-Jones, Stanley Lewis, Merryn Matthews, Megan Malpas.
Grant Support
We received grants in support of the trip from the University of Bristol Tratman Fund, the sum of £1000, and the Oliver Lloyd Memorial Fund, a trust fund that supports UBSS, a total of £1300. These helped greatly by reducing the cost for the participants and making the trip more accessible as a result. So we want to give a massive thank you to the people in charge of these funds for all their support!
Megan Malpas (left) and Imogen Clement-Jones (right) surveying in Coolagh River Cave. Photo by Jess Brock.
UBSS members returned to Ireland this supper, spending a few days caving in Fermanagh before heading south to the usual UBSS stamping grounds of the Burren in Co Clare to build on work carried out over the past few years. Expedition Coordinator, Dan Runcan, had put together a short report on the formal side of the trip.
Participants: Gabriel Littler, Jess Brock, Megan Malpas, Imogen Clement-Jones, Merryn Matthews, Dan Runcan, Stanley Lewis, Dan Rose, Billy Evans, Ben Morgan, Felix Arnautovic, Dan Hill, Sam Bowers, Peter Ward.
OUTPUTS
1. Erosion measurement project
We searched for a number of erosion measurement stations installed in the ’60s and ’70s as part of a research project aiming to measure the rate of calcite erosion in caves. Most stations in Cullaun One that are accessible have been found, and measurements of the proudness of the metal studs still in situ have been taken. This should allow us, by comparison with previous measurements, to obtain a value for the rate of erosion that can be compared to previous estimates. A number of studs that were completely eroded out of the rock, and sitting in the streamway, have been retrieved. Again, based on previous observations, we can learn where these studs were originally placed and get an idea of the actual erosion that had to take place for them to be completely removed.
A typical Co Clare streamway: dark, sinuous and wet. Photo by Jess Brock.
2. Coolagh River Cave Survey (Total length of surveyed passage: ~270m)
West Entrance was relocated after not having been visited for a number of years. A new description of how to find this entrance will be written alongside a new set of GPS coordinates as the old ones seemed to be quite off.
We started surveying passage beginning at West Entrance. We do not believe we have reached the too narrow passage mentioned in the previous description yet; survey seems to have reached approximately half way to the constriction at the end.
Progress has also been made in the Upper Bedding Plane where one of the leads has been pushed to its end. However, more leads have been found along this section that remain to be pushed alongside other parts of the Upper Bedding. West inlet has also been extended by a few metres.
3. Training and connections
Most participants got an introduction to cave surveying as well as the chance to do it in practice, trying out the different roles in a surveying team.
The group got to expand their caving expertise by visiting different caves both in County Fermanagh as well as Co Clare.
During the weekend spent in Co Clare we also got together with a small group of Irish cavers from Limerick and from different Dublin clubs and caved together. This, and having Peter a member of Queen’s University Belfast Caving Club, as a participant for the whole duration created some more connections between our club and the Irish caving community which will hopefully prove fruitful in the future.
Plenty of photos were taken and more informal reports are being produced for the newsletter (see last month's story of the daring rescue of Fergus the Fulmar!) which will help introduce new members of the club to cave surveying and caving expeditions.
Taking a well-earned rest from surveying. Left to right: Gabriel Littler, Imogen Clement-Jones, Stanley Lewis, Merryn Matthews, Megan Malpas.
Grant Support
We received grants in support of the trip from the University of Bristol Tratman Fund, the sum of £1000, and the Oliver Lloyd Memorial Fund, a trust fund that supports UBSS, a total of £1300. These helped greatly by reducing the cost for the participants and making the trip more accessible as a result. So we want to give a massive thank you to the people in charge of these funds for all their support!
Dan Runcan
Expedition Coordinator
Expedition Coordinator
GROTTE DE MIDROI
Cool entrance. This photo and others by Jess Brock.
Nestled on the banks of the Ardeche river in France, sits a cave called Midroï, which provided a welcome respite from the scorching heat for Jess Brock on a family caving holiday this summer.
To get to the cave we hiked down a steep path following the curves of the gorge and scuttled along the exposed gorge side with only burning hot metal bars to keep us from slipping into the rushing river where people were kayaking below.
Finally, to the left, behind pale lichen-covered rock, a dark entrance appeared. Unassuming, dry, and spacious the passage wound on until we were wading through waist deep pools of muddy water, easily up to my neck but a much needed relief from the torment of the sun we had endured to get there. After that, we were knee deep in thick mud, struggling to keep our wellies on our feet.
Crossing the lake.
Sweating, soggy, and covered in a layer of sticky mud, our next challenge was a long, deep, freezing lake. On the right wall metal staples offered a route for a traverse. We began to rig this but quickly found it more effort than it was worth. From literature we had read, we were advised to allow at least an hour to rig this. After 20 minutes of faff and constant extremely tall and awkward bolt placements, we binned off the traverse and used a rubber ring to paddle to the end of the lake, under a low arch of rock, and out to the rift climb at the other end. A rope pulley system was engineered and we each enjoyed a leisurely float across the lake with only our bottoms grazing the freezing waters. Laughter echoed as each person was towed across the lake in bizarre caving fashion which made the rest of us laugh in turn as their pure delight infected us all.
More formations, less mud.
Luckily for us, after the lake, the mud subsided. We walked amongst formations thick as ancient tree trunks. Stepping through more pools we reaxched an enormous chamber with a scar of calcite that shot down from the ceiling almost to the floor like a streak of lightning, dazzling in our torchlight as we spotted endless forks of stalactites. It was the most impressive thing we’d seen… so far.
Formations aplenty.
After a little wet crawl we tumbled out into a tall, wide chamber, more bedecked in formations than an over-the-top Christmas tree. Every single wall dripped with pristine white curtains. Calcite sparkled everywhere we looked. The magnificent chamber seemed never ending. As much as we wanted to stay and inspect the dry, cracked calcite pools, the enormous pale flowstone, the stalactites, stalagmites and mad helictites, bad air choked us so we made for the other arm of the cave.
Helictite nests in the roof.
In every pocket, nests of helictites resided. Their pale wintered fingers looked like the silk of drunken spider’s nests. No small feat either, these helictite nests were bigger than my head and were everywhere.
Returning to the first big chamber, we scrambled up a steep mound of rock. Each step was slow and calculated and left me wishing for a rope. Enormous walking passage met us at the top. As I looked down the climb into the infinite chamber, my light couldn’t even penetrate the far wall. The acoustics were incredible and we put them to good use by singing songs and listening to our harmonies blend and bounce away from us.
On and on we wandered, finding increasingly fantastic stuff; large formations too thick to hug and tightly curtained passages filled with untouched gower pools.
We traversed between two mounds of flowstone atop a pristine pool. The line was pre-rigged and a bit loose so we had to use the muscles we had been building the past two weeks to pull us across the wide gap. As with all our family trips there were no less than eight of us so each person had a chattering audience as they attempted the challenge.
The impressive Ardeche Gorge.
After the cave we stripped off our mud-soaked oversuits and slipped into the warm, glittering water of the Ardeche. It was an optimal spot for gear washing, even though little fish nibbled at our submerged bodies. We swam in the currents and jumped off rocks as our oversuits turned crispy in the afternoon sun.
Cool entrance. This photo and others by Jess Brock.
Nestled on the banks of the Ardeche river in France, sits a cave called Midroï, which provided a welcome respite from the scorching heat for Jess Brock on a family caving holiday this summer.
To get to the cave we hiked down a steep path following the curves of the gorge and scuttled along the exposed gorge side with only burning hot metal bars to keep us from slipping into the rushing river where people were kayaking below.
Finally, to the left, behind pale lichen-covered rock, a dark entrance appeared. Unassuming, dry, and spacious the passage wound on until we were wading through waist deep pools of muddy water, easily up to my neck but a much needed relief from the torment of the sun we had endured to get there. After that, we were knee deep in thick mud, struggling to keep our wellies on our feet.
Crossing the lake.
Sweating, soggy, and covered in a layer of sticky mud, our next challenge was a long, deep, freezing lake. On the right wall metal staples offered a route for a traverse. We began to rig this but quickly found it more effort than it was worth. From literature we had read, we were advised to allow at least an hour to rig this. After 20 minutes of faff and constant extremely tall and awkward bolt placements, we binned off the traverse and used a rubber ring to paddle to the end of the lake, under a low arch of rock, and out to the rift climb at the other end. A rope pulley system was engineered and we each enjoyed a leisurely float across the lake with only our bottoms grazing the freezing waters. Laughter echoed as each person was towed across the lake in bizarre caving fashion which made the rest of us laugh in turn as their pure delight infected us all.
More formations, less mud.Luckily for us, after the lake, the mud subsided. We walked amongst formations thick as ancient tree trunks. Stepping through more pools we reaxched an enormous chamber with a scar of calcite that shot down from the ceiling almost to the floor like a streak of lightning, dazzling in our torchlight as we spotted endless forks of stalactites. It was the most impressive thing we’d seen… so far.
Formations aplenty.
After a little wet crawl we tumbled out into a tall, wide chamber, more bedecked in formations than an over-the-top Christmas tree. Every single wall dripped with pristine white curtains. Calcite sparkled everywhere we looked. The magnificent chamber seemed never ending. As much as we wanted to stay and inspect the dry, cracked calcite pools, the enormous pale flowstone, the stalactites, stalagmites and mad helictites, bad air choked us so we made for the other arm of the cave.
Helictite nests in the roof.
In every pocket, nests of helictites resided. Their pale wintered fingers looked like the silk of drunken spider’s nests. No small feat either, these helictite nests were bigger than my head and were everywhere.
Returning to the first big chamber, we scrambled up a steep mound of rock. Each step was slow and calculated and left me wishing for a rope. Enormous walking passage met us at the top. As I looked down the climb into the infinite chamber, my light couldn’t even penetrate the far wall. The acoustics were incredible and we put them to good use by singing songs and listening to our harmonies blend and bounce away from us.
On and on we wandered, finding increasingly fantastic stuff; large formations too thick to hug and tightly curtained passages filled with untouched gower pools.
We traversed between two mounds of flowstone atop a pristine pool. The line was pre-rigged and a bit loose so we had to use the muscles we had been building the past two weeks to pull us across the wide gap. As with all our family trips there were no less than eight of us so each person had a chattering audience as they attempted the challenge.
The impressive Ardeche Gorge.
After the cave we stripped off our mud-soaked oversuits and slipped into the warm, glittering water of the Ardeche. It was an optimal spot for gear washing, even though little fish nibbled at our submerged bodies. We swam in the currents and jumped off rocks as our oversuits turned crispy in the afternoon sun.
Jess Brock
SLUGGY SLITHERED TO THE END, DID YOU?
A while ago, we appealed for animals for this slot and a banana slug was suggested. Bing AI took this rather literally but after checking Wikipedia, this doesn't seem too far over the top!
Congratulations to Seren Jones whose quick reading wins her a UBSS buff! Keep reading and keep trying and we'll see what we can do to rustle up some more prizes soon. Don't forget, the quick link to contact us is in blue at the end!
- I found the link 😎 [Seren Jones]
- Banana slug? Wonderful creatures. Almost as great as our own Great Grey Slug, which should be nurtured and fed in every garden and watched for their incredible mating habits (look it up) [Chris Howes]
- Obviously you found help [with the new website] and I have to say, the result that just went live is splendid! Clear, straightforward, well structured and quite elegant. Well done! [Bob Taylor]
- Well done on the website, looking good. The 4m pitch in Poulnagollum… that’ll be the one that I forgot about when I took Fiona on her one and only caving trip, years ago, the one that wasn’t on the survey, or maybe it wasn’t in the description, I forget which it was a long time ago. Anyway, I forgot about it, didn’t have a ladder and she wasn’t very impressed. [Dick Willis]
- I read to the end, Fergus, you fantastic fulmar! [Stanley Lewis]
- Excellent work as usual editors 🫡 [Imogent Clement-Jones]
- Super caving trips, well done for saving Fergus, and a double well-done to Imogen for a superb get-back-into-it caving trip. As always, kudos to Jess for her wonderful teaching! [Jan Walker]
- Well rescued! [Eve Gilmore]
- Another entertaining newsletter. Great to see there is a lot of caving enthusiasm with new UBSS members and officials! [Hans Friederich]
- Do I win? [Imogen Clement-Jones] [Editors: Sadly not, but keep trying!]
- Am I too late? [Kenneth MacIver] [Editors: never too late to cheer us up!]
- Bonjour, Monsieur le Sanglier, je t'aime! 😎❤️ [Elliott McCall] [Editors: Elliott is in fact slightly behind with his reading, but no response is ever too late, and both Fergus Fulmar and Sluggy Slug look forward to getting their love letters!]
Sluggy, you slimey little yellow sweetie, lovely to meet you!
THE END
A while ago, we appealed for animals for this slot and a banana slug was suggested. Bing AI took this rather literally but after checking Wikipedia, this doesn't seem too far over the top!
Congratulations to Seren Jones whose quick reading wins her a UBSS buff! Keep reading and keep trying and we'll see what we can do to rustle up some more prizes soon. Don't forget, the quick link to contact us is in blue at the end!
- I found the link 😎 [Seren Jones]
- Banana slug? Wonderful creatures. Almost as great as our own Great Grey Slug, which should be nurtured and fed in every garden and watched for their incredible mating habits (look it up) [Chris Howes]
- Obviously you found help [with the new website] and I have to say, the result that just went live is splendid! Clear, straightforward, well structured and quite elegant. Well done! [Bob Taylor]
- Well done on the website, looking good. The 4m pitch in Poulnagollum… that’ll be the one that I forgot about when I took Fiona on her one and only caving trip, years ago, the one that wasn’t on the survey, or maybe it wasn’t in the description, I forget which it was a long time ago. Anyway, I forgot about it, didn’t have a ladder and she wasn’t very impressed. [Dick Willis]
- I read to the end, Fergus, you fantastic fulmar! [Stanley Lewis]
- Excellent work as usual editors 🫡 [Imogent Clement-Jones]
- Super caving trips, well done for saving Fergus, and a double well-done to Imogen for a superb get-back-into-it caving trip. As always, kudos to Jess for her wonderful teaching! [Jan Walker]
- Well rescued! [Eve Gilmore]
- Another entertaining newsletter. Great to see there is a lot of caving enthusiasm with new UBSS members and officials! [Hans Friederich]
- Do I win? [Imogen Clement-Jones] [Editors: Sadly not, but keep trying!]
- Am I too late? [Kenneth MacIver] [Editors: never too late to cheer us up!]
- Bonjour, Monsieur le Sanglier, je t'aime! 😎❤️ [Elliott McCall] [Editors: Elliott is in fact slightly behind with his reading, but no response is ever too late, and both Fergus Fulmar and Sluggy Slug look forward to getting their love letters!]
Sluggy, you slimey little yellow sweetie, lovely to meet you!
THE END