Joshitha Shivkumar (left) and Emily Wormleighton (right) in Risco Cave, Matienzo. Photo by Mowgli Palmer.
Expo season has been in full swing over summer, with members on trips to Austria, France (both the Gouffre Berger and the PSM), Ario and Matienzo in Spain and the UBSS's traditional stamping ground of Co Clare! The prize for the further afield trip goes to Zac Woodford who even made it to Brazil for the international conferance. Reports have already started to come in (see the July issue for Dan Rose's account of making a new connection in Ario) and in this issue we have accounts from Matienzo and one from Austria, with more to come!
This issue sees the conclusion of our blockbuster cheese thriller, now optioned as a major film production, with publishers still locked in a hotly-disputed bidding war for the international rights. The authors gratefully acknowledge the help of Elliott McCall who provided a major plot point (yes, it does have plot!) and Graham Mulllan who came up with the title for the final chapter.
So as the club gets ready for the new term, keep writing and reading!
If you would like to check out previous issues, you can find them all here, including the scanned archive of all our paper issues.
This issue sees the conclusion of our blockbuster cheese thriller, now optioned as a major film production, with publishers still locked in a hotly-disputed bidding war for the international rights. The authors gratefully acknowledge the help of Elliott McCall who provided a major plot point (yes, it does have plot!) and Graham Mulllan who came up with the title for the final chapter.
So as the club gets ready for the new term, keep writing and reading!
If you would like to check out previous issues, you can find them all here, including the scanned archive of all our paper issues.
Linda and Billy
PS As ever, if the text is in blue and underlined, it's a clickable link, so go on, take a look.
DIARY DATES
Here are some early dates for your diary! Details will follow nearer the time. Please also note that we hope to run lots of mid-week freshers' trips between the Welcome Fair and the first freshers' weekend on Mendip so if you are able to help with these by driving, leading or seconding, please contact Joshitha asap!
13th September: Bristol's Brilliant Archaeology. UBSS are having a stand at this annual festival run by Bristol City Museum at Blaise Castle House in Bristol. We are hoping to make a cardboard cave and encourage budding young cave archaeologists to dig for flints and other objects in buckets of sand. If you would like to help out or if you can offer to do any 3D printing of small objects to be given away, this would be much appreciated. Please contact Linda Wilson if you would like to get involved.
27th September: Welcome Fair. Volunteers need to set up and run the stall. Please contact Dan Rose.
30th September: Freshers' Chilli Evening.
10th October: Cows Tails Pub Crawl
11th/12th October: BCRA Cave Science Symposium, Department of Geographical Sciences, Bristol and field trips locally. See July newsletter for details.
18th/19th October: Freshers' Weekend at the Hut. Details to follow. Drivers, leaders and seconds needed!
1st/2nd November: Freshers' Weekend in South Wales. Drivers, leaders and seconds needed!
8th/9th November: Bonfire Party at the Hut.
Here are some early dates for your diary! Details will follow nearer the time. Please also note that we hope to run lots of mid-week freshers' trips between the Welcome Fair and the first freshers' weekend on Mendip so if you are able to help with these by driving, leading or seconding, please contact Joshitha asap!
13th September: Bristol's Brilliant Archaeology. UBSS are having a stand at this annual festival run by Bristol City Museum at Blaise Castle House in Bristol. We are hoping to make a cardboard cave and encourage budding young cave archaeologists to dig for flints and other objects in buckets of sand. If you would like to help out or if you can offer to do any 3D printing of small objects to be given away, this would be much appreciated. Please contact Linda Wilson if you would like to get involved.
27th September: Welcome Fair. Volunteers need to set up and run the stall. Please contact Dan Rose.
30th September: Freshers' Chilli Evening.
10th October: Cows Tails Pub Crawl
11th/12th October: BCRA Cave Science Symposium, Department of Geographical Sciences, Bristol and field trips locally. See July newsletter for details.
18th/19th October: Freshers' Weekend at the Hut. Details to follow. Drivers, leaders and seconds needed!
1st/2nd November: Freshers' Weekend in South Wales. Drivers, leaders and seconds needed!
8th/9th November: Bonfire Party at the Hut.
BCA SUBSCRIPTION INCREASES
Many members will have received emails from the British Caving Association (BCA) outlining their subscription increases for 2026, as agreed by BCA Council. Treasurer Graham Mullan explains how these changes affect UBSS members.
Firstly, while the latest subscription increases seem steep, with caving membership going up from £24 to £32, non-caving membership going from £6 to £10 and student membership increasing from £10 to £12, BCA treasurer Chris Bolton has pointed out the subs have been kept artifially low for several years and should really have been raised sooner. Much of BCA's spending goes on the conservation and access work carried out by the various regional councils, and this benefits all cavers, and without this funding, access to caves could easily be lost. Entrance repairs and the gates needed as a condition of many access agreements don't come cheap, even with volunteer labour in most cases.
An explanation of how these changes impinge on UBSS and its membership must start with the understanding that in order for a club to be covered by the insurance provided by BCA, all members of the club must be members of BCA. This is because insurance is a benefit of membership, not something that BCA can sell as an 'extra'.
For UBSS, this affects members in three ways depending on their status:
For full-time Bristol students, their membership has been covered by the membership fee paid through the Students’ Union. Going forwards, with a separate student club, how this is dealt is something that still needs to be discussed by the committees, who haven’t met yet as the changes have come in over summer when the majority of these discussions have had to happen online.
Non-student members who are actively caving have, over the years, paid their BCA membership either as direct BCA members or via another caving club or via UBSS. For those who fall into the latter category, I will continue to request payment of the relevant amount (£32) to UBSS towards the end of the year, so that I can pay BCA on your behalf. I have access to the BCA’s own membership control panel for our members and can do this efficiently and quickly. I cannot do anything about the amount and, sadly, it does have to be paid. Both the Society’s own insurance position and our participation in many cave access agreements relies on us having this policy in place.
For non-student members who are not active cavers, we understand that BCA membership offers them very little – indeed many will have been completely unaware of their BCA membership. Accordingly, UBSS has always regarded their BCA subs as being effectively part of its Public Liability insurance costs and have paid it on their behalf as it’s not in the society’s best interests to lose members over these inevitable increases. That situation will continue. The increased sums may mean that at some stage we have to increase UBSS subscriptions but that will not happen this year or in 2026. UBSS does its very best to keep subscription increases to a minimum as inevitably any changes results in a loss of members. So if you are a non-active caver, there is no need for you to do anything, and no need for you to resign from UBSS or BCA. Nothing will change for you. However, if any are non-caving members of other caving clubs who ‘roll the BCA fee up’ in their own subs, please ensure that I am aware of their position as this offsets the amount we pay and prevents payment being made twice for you.
BCA will, of course, be aware that any subscription increases inevitably lead to loss of members. One body which is currently looking at their own corporate membership and insurance situation is the Speleological Union of Ireland. I am watching developments, here, and will keep you all informed.
Many members will have received emails from the British Caving Association (BCA) outlining their subscription increases for 2026, as agreed by BCA Council. Treasurer Graham Mullan explains how these changes affect UBSS members.
Firstly, while the latest subscription increases seem steep, with caving membership going up from £24 to £32, non-caving membership going from £6 to £10 and student membership increasing from £10 to £12, BCA treasurer Chris Bolton has pointed out the subs have been kept artifially low for several years and should really have been raised sooner. Much of BCA's spending goes on the conservation and access work carried out by the various regional councils, and this benefits all cavers, and without this funding, access to caves could easily be lost. Entrance repairs and the gates needed as a condition of many access agreements don't come cheap, even with volunteer labour in most cases.
An explanation of how these changes impinge on UBSS and its membership must start with the understanding that in order for a club to be covered by the insurance provided by BCA, all members of the club must be members of BCA. This is because insurance is a benefit of membership, not something that BCA can sell as an 'extra'.
For UBSS, this affects members in three ways depending on their status:
For full-time Bristol students, their membership has been covered by the membership fee paid through the Students’ Union. Going forwards, with a separate student club, how this is dealt is something that still needs to be discussed by the committees, who haven’t met yet as the changes have come in over summer when the majority of these discussions have had to happen online.
Non-student members who are actively caving have, over the years, paid their BCA membership either as direct BCA members or via another caving club or via UBSS. For those who fall into the latter category, I will continue to request payment of the relevant amount (£32) to UBSS towards the end of the year, so that I can pay BCA on your behalf. I have access to the BCA’s own membership control panel for our members and can do this efficiently and quickly. I cannot do anything about the amount and, sadly, it does have to be paid. Both the Society’s own insurance position and our participation in many cave access agreements relies on us having this policy in place.
For non-student members who are not active cavers, we understand that BCA membership offers them very little – indeed many will have been completely unaware of their BCA membership. Accordingly, UBSS has always regarded their BCA subs as being effectively part of its Public Liability insurance costs and have paid it on their behalf as it’s not in the society’s best interests to lose members over these inevitable increases. That situation will continue. The increased sums may mean that at some stage we have to increase UBSS subscriptions but that will not happen this year or in 2026. UBSS does its very best to keep subscription increases to a minimum as inevitably any changes results in a loss of members. So if you are a non-active caver, there is no need for you to do anything, and no need for you to resign from UBSS or BCA. Nothing will change for you. However, if any are non-caving members of other caving clubs who ‘roll the BCA fee up’ in their own subs, please ensure that I am aware of their position as this offsets the amount we pay and prevents payment being made twice for you.
BCA will, of course, be aware that any subscription increases inevitably lead to loss of members. One body which is currently looking at their own corporate membership and insurance situation is the Speleological Union of Ireland. I am watching developments, here, and will keep you all informed.
Graham Mullan
Hon. Treasurer
Hon. Treasurer
PS: There remains a small handful of members who have yet to pay their 2025/26 UBSS subscription. Either they assiduously avoid reading emails from me or my emails fail to arrive. Please can everybody whitelist [email protected] to make sure my comms get through. Thanks.
UBSS IN MATIENZO - DAY ONE
The entrance to Agua Cave with Jess, Emily, Joshitha , Ben Marks, Dylan, Mowgli and Kenneth. Photo by Grace Smith
Summer, and with the expedition season in full swing, a large UBSS contingent headed down to northern Spain for their first expo. They even went caving immediately they arrived! Grace Smith tells the story of a memorable trip.
After a 27 hour journey, we arrived in Matienzo in northern Spain! Then a quick coffee and some food in the sun and we went straight to the cave. Who needs sleep? We probably did. But our excitement carried us on, and Ben Marks offered something we couldn't possibly resist… “It’s like Swildons, but bigger and better!”. And so our first cave in Matienzo, to kick off the expedition, was a group trip to Agua Cave!
We all piled back into Barry the Bongo, the van we had been subjected to for the last 27 hours, and drove to the cave entrance. This was a big open cavern decorated with delicate foliage and huge spiders, which let out a beautiful draught, a welcome break from the heat. Suddenly the tiredness left us (almost) as our bodies remembered what it was like to be getting ready for a trip underground!
Once ready, we set off into a huge passageway filled with big pools of water and a streamway pointing us in the right direction. It was somewhat like Swildon's in character, with its pools and little climbs around them, but it was definitely grander in size.
It's like Swildon's only bigger! Photo by Jess Brock.
We reached the first big chamber. A swimming pool? We had so much fun here. We swam, jumped, and chilled on the sandy beach next to it. Some might say luxurious, just how one would imagine a holiday to Spain, except it was in a cave… which made it ten times better.
Joshitha going into the pool. Photo by Jess Brock.
We continued further into the cave and there was just endless amounts of water. We swam through the passageways and held onto rocks for breaks, as it turns out wellies are actually really heavy when filled with water. By that point, it felt like time had shifted. We had never been in the van. The cold water had made us forget about our journey and we were left to enjoy ourselves (in saying this, I didn't do any of the driving, and slept quite a lot in the van, but this was how I felt at that moment although I can't say the same for the drivers!).
Left to right: Dylan, Joshitha, Mowgli, Emily, Kenneth and Grace. Photo by Jess Brock.
After a very fun splash, we got out of the cave and headed for a pint. Happy as ever to be on holiday, in the sun, and to cap it, to be with my favorite people, caving. We headed back to Pablo’s, where we were staying, drank some more and slept, ready for more caving in the morning.
The entrance to Agua Cave with Jess, Emily, Joshitha , Ben Marks, Dylan, Mowgli and Kenneth. Photo by Grace Smith
Summer, and with the expedition season in full swing, a large UBSS contingent headed down to northern Spain for their first expo. They even went caving immediately they arrived! Grace Smith tells the story of a memorable trip.
After a 27 hour journey, we arrived in Matienzo in northern Spain! Then a quick coffee and some food in the sun and we went straight to the cave. Who needs sleep? We probably did. But our excitement carried us on, and Ben Marks offered something we couldn't possibly resist… “It’s like Swildons, but bigger and better!”. And so our first cave in Matienzo, to kick off the expedition, was a group trip to Agua Cave!
We all piled back into Barry the Bongo, the van we had been subjected to for the last 27 hours, and drove to the cave entrance. This was a big open cavern decorated with delicate foliage and huge spiders, which let out a beautiful draught, a welcome break from the heat. Suddenly the tiredness left us (almost) as our bodies remembered what it was like to be getting ready for a trip underground!
Once ready, we set off into a huge passageway filled with big pools of water and a streamway pointing us in the right direction. It was somewhat like Swildon's in character, with its pools and little climbs around them, but it was definitely grander in size.
It's like Swildon's only bigger! Photo by Jess Brock.
We reached the first big chamber. A swimming pool? We had so much fun here. We swam, jumped, and chilled on the sandy beach next to it. Some might say luxurious, just how one would imagine a holiday to Spain, except it was in a cave… which made it ten times better.
Joshitha going into the pool. Photo by Jess Brock.
We continued further into the cave and there was just endless amounts of water. We swam through the passageways and held onto rocks for breaks, as it turns out wellies are actually really heavy when filled with water. By that point, it felt like time had shifted. We had never been in the van. The cold water had made us forget about our journey and we were left to enjoy ourselves (in saying this, I didn't do any of the driving, and slept quite a lot in the van, but this was how I felt at that moment although I can't say the same for the drivers!).
Left to right: Dylan, Joshitha, Mowgli, Emily, Kenneth and Grace. Photo by Jess Brock.
After a very fun splash, we got out of the cave and headed for a pint. Happy as ever to be on holiday, in the sun, and to cap it, to be with my favorite people, caving. We headed back to Pablo’s, where we were staying, drank some more and slept, ready for more caving in the morning.
Grace Smith
CSCC CONSERVATION AND ACCESS NEWS
The Council of Southern Caving Clubs (CSCC) is the regional body for our area. Conservation and Access officer Wayne Starsmore and Equipment Ofiicer Andrew Atkinson both work hard to facilitate access and deal with issues underground. The following information is drawn from their recent reports to CSCC.
Longleat
A final draft of the Access Agreement for Reservoir Hole, Spider Hole and Gough's Cave has been submitted to Longleat and their Estates Director confirmed it was acceptable. A recent CSCC EGM was held to ratify the agreement and elect two officers to sign it. Unfortunately, Longleat’s lawyers then raised some additional queries that Wayne has had to respond it. He hopes the agreement will be ready to sign soon and after that he will be able to get the agreed conservation warden system up and running. UBSS has nominated Jess Brock and Stuart Alldred as our wardens.
In the meantime, Wayne has undertaken an inspection trip was arranged to Lloyd Hall in Gough’s Cave. The purpose of the trip was to inspect the various fixed aids and platforms installed some years ago by the Cave Diving Group. The Technical Officer of the CDG, Mike Thomas, accompanied him. All the bolts and fixed ladders where found to be in good order. The wooden decking on the Hauling Platform seems solid but probably needs replacing and the decking on the Diver’s Platform definitely needs replacing (once the several tons of silt have been removed from it). The CDG will undertake this work once access is restored.
Eastwater
A report was received of a broken ladder. Dan Rose was actually on the ladder when it failed! This is the ladder mentioned in Mendip Underground that leads down to the balcony overlooking the Chamber of Horrors. A CSCC bulletin was sent out to warn people. Having reviewed the situation, with a number of different cavers who have recently visited this area, it has been decided that the ladder is rarely used and so there is no intention to replace it.
Also in Eastwater, Andrew Atkinson attempted to change the anchors on Gladman’s and Lolly Pot. In his words: "This did not go well." The original anchors snapped with a very low force. He reports that currently it is unlikely that the pitches can be rigged safely. He hopes that this will be resolved soon, but in the meantime avoid this route.
Stoke Lane Slocker
A report was received that a large boulder had been deliberately dropped into the entrance of Stoke Lane Slocker. This was severely restricting access. The boulder was quite large (triangular 1m by 0.5m at the base and around 0.5m thick). Judging by the scuff marks around the entrance, it had been forced in rather than being washed in. The boulder succumbed to plug and feathers and the resultant pieces were used to form a rough wall to the right of the stream sink. Wayne also took the opportunity to remove a lot of debris from the stream sink and this was stashed behind the new wall
.
Thrupe Lane Swallet
An assessment visit to Butt’s Chamber was completed. The purpose was to look at the options to stabilise the large boulder that was on the move and threatening to block access from Perseverance Pot. It was decided the best approach would be to build a wall up, underneath the boulder, to support it. Three working trips were undertaken. A large quantity of sand and cement (some 300kg of materials) where transported through Hobnail Hole and used to complete the wall. The CSCC contributed £50 towards the materials. A report from Atlas is being prepared for publication.
Waterwheel Swallet
The traverse rope beside the lake at the bottom of the cave was found to be in a very poor state. This has been removed and replaced.
Hilliers Cave
The padlock on Hilliers Cave, in Fairy Cave Quarry, has been vandalised and a replacement padlock has been installed.
Stock Hill Mine Cave
The exploration of Stock Hill Mine Cave has been completed. Over the last seven years, some 1.5km of passageway has been discovered by the diggers. The cave offers a rather sporting trip with some unusual geology on display. A survey is available and a full description has been written for the forthcoming version of Mendip Underground. The diggers would like the CSCC to take over access control and they are happy having a CSCC padlock installed. A replacement gate is likely to be needed and CSCC will seek funds for this from BCA.
Harridge Woods
The Harridge Wood Nature Reserve access agreement is ready to go but is waiting for the CSCC to complete the work required to provide an online permit system.
Hunter’s Hole
Andrew Atkinson received a report of loose anchor(s) on Sago’s Pot. These were checked and the movement was found to be within the acceptable limits, but only just, so they have gone on the non-urgent replacement list.
The Council of Southern Caving Clubs (CSCC) is the regional body for our area. Conservation and Access officer Wayne Starsmore and Equipment Ofiicer Andrew Atkinson both work hard to facilitate access and deal with issues underground. The following information is drawn from their recent reports to CSCC.
Longleat
A final draft of the Access Agreement for Reservoir Hole, Spider Hole and Gough's Cave has been submitted to Longleat and their Estates Director confirmed it was acceptable. A recent CSCC EGM was held to ratify the agreement and elect two officers to sign it. Unfortunately, Longleat’s lawyers then raised some additional queries that Wayne has had to respond it. He hopes the agreement will be ready to sign soon and after that he will be able to get the agreed conservation warden system up and running. UBSS has nominated Jess Brock and Stuart Alldred as our wardens.
In the meantime, Wayne has undertaken an inspection trip was arranged to Lloyd Hall in Gough’s Cave. The purpose of the trip was to inspect the various fixed aids and platforms installed some years ago by the Cave Diving Group. The Technical Officer of the CDG, Mike Thomas, accompanied him. All the bolts and fixed ladders where found to be in good order. The wooden decking on the Hauling Platform seems solid but probably needs replacing and the decking on the Diver’s Platform definitely needs replacing (once the several tons of silt have been removed from it). The CDG will undertake this work once access is restored.
Eastwater
A report was received of a broken ladder. Dan Rose was actually on the ladder when it failed! This is the ladder mentioned in Mendip Underground that leads down to the balcony overlooking the Chamber of Horrors. A CSCC bulletin was sent out to warn people. Having reviewed the situation, with a number of different cavers who have recently visited this area, it has been decided that the ladder is rarely used and so there is no intention to replace it.
Also in Eastwater, Andrew Atkinson attempted to change the anchors on Gladman’s and Lolly Pot. In his words: "This did not go well." The original anchors snapped with a very low force. He reports that currently it is unlikely that the pitches can be rigged safely. He hopes that this will be resolved soon, but in the meantime avoid this route.
Stoke Lane Slocker
A report was received that a large boulder had been deliberately dropped into the entrance of Stoke Lane Slocker. This was severely restricting access. The boulder was quite large (triangular 1m by 0.5m at the base and around 0.5m thick). Judging by the scuff marks around the entrance, it had been forced in rather than being washed in. The boulder succumbed to plug and feathers and the resultant pieces were used to form a rough wall to the right of the stream sink. Wayne also took the opportunity to remove a lot of debris from the stream sink and this was stashed behind the new wall
.
Thrupe Lane Swallet
An assessment visit to Butt’s Chamber was completed. The purpose was to look at the options to stabilise the large boulder that was on the move and threatening to block access from Perseverance Pot. It was decided the best approach would be to build a wall up, underneath the boulder, to support it. Three working trips were undertaken. A large quantity of sand and cement (some 300kg of materials) where transported through Hobnail Hole and used to complete the wall. The CSCC contributed £50 towards the materials. A report from Atlas is being prepared for publication.
Waterwheel Swallet
The traverse rope beside the lake at the bottom of the cave was found to be in a very poor state. This has been removed and replaced.
Hilliers Cave
The padlock on Hilliers Cave, in Fairy Cave Quarry, has been vandalised and a replacement padlock has been installed.
Stock Hill Mine Cave
The exploration of Stock Hill Mine Cave has been completed. Over the last seven years, some 1.5km of passageway has been discovered by the diggers. The cave offers a rather sporting trip with some unusual geology on display. A survey is available and a full description has been written for the forthcoming version of Mendip Underground. The diggers would like the CSCC to take over access control and they are happy having a CSCC padlock installed. A replacement gate is likely to be needed and CSCC will seek funds for this from BCA.
Harridge Woods
The Harridge Wood Nature Reserve access agreement is ready to go but is waiting for the CSCC to complete the work required to provide an online permit system.
Hunter’s Hole
Andrew Atkinson received a report of loose anchor(s) on Sago’s Pot. These were checked and the movement was found to be within the acceptable limits, but only just, so they have gone on the non-urgent replacement list.
UBSS WEBSITE UPDATES
There are times when Linda wonders what her husband does on the computer for hours a day but Graham insists he's gainfully employed! Recently, he's been working with web developer Simon Marsh on a revamp of two old projects, as he explains ...
For some years, UBSS has hosted two archaeological gazetteers, originally compiled at Sheffield University in the 1990s, but eventually dropped by them. They were too useful to lose, however, so we have hosted them since 2014, keeping them up to date and relevant.
However, as flat-form basic websites, they were difficult to search, limiting their use. Now, thanks to a grant from the British Cave Research Association’s Cave Science and Technology Research Fund and much hard work from Simon Marsh, who rebuilt our whole website last year, they are now both reborn as relational databases, much easier to search and with the added facility to display the results on a map.
To take a look go to:
All three are works in progress, in the sense that they can be edited and brought up to date easily, but the Irish Caves list is still in need of checking and correcting. There are nearly a thousand sites on the database and that is before the major caving areas in the north have been added. So, if anyone sees any errors or omissions, has any photographs of cave entrances or has any other useful (!) suggestions, please drop me a line.
There are times when Linda wonders what her husband does on the computer for hours a day but Graham insists he's gainfully employed! Recently, he's been working with web developer Simon Marsh on a revamp of two old projects, as he explains ...
For some years, UBSS has hosted two archaeological gazetteers, originally compiled at Sheffield University in the 1990s, but eventually dropped by them. They were too useful to lose, however, so we have hosted them since 2014, keeping them up to date and relevant.
However, as flat-form basic websites, they were difficult to search, limiting their use. Now, thanks to a grant from the British Cave Research Association’s Cave Science and Technology Research Fund and much hard work from Simon Marsh, who rebuilt our whole website last year, they are now both reborn as relational databases, much easier to search and with the added facility to display the results on a map.
To take a look go to:
- The Gazetteer of Caves, Fissures and Rock Shelters in Britain containing Human Remains, compiled by Andrew T. Chamberlain.
- A Gazetteer of Vertebrate Remains from Caves in the Yorkshire Dales referenced in Caving Club Journals and allied literature, compiled by Phillip J. Murphy.
All three are works in progress, in the sense that they can be edited and brought up to date easily, but the Irish Caves list is still in need of checking and correcting. There are nearly a thousand sites on the database and that is before the major caving areas in the north have been added. So, if anyone sees any errors or omissions, has any photographs of cave entrances or has any other useful (!) suggestions, please drop me a line.
Graham Mullan
A LONG-AWAITED TRIP!
Sump 9. Nabbed from the Sumpicide Squad film in the last newsletter.
Exactly six months to the day since Joe Bidie first set foot in a cave, he found himself in a familiar place – standing at the top of the Swildon’s 20, rigging the pitch with Ben Morgan. This is the story of a very different trip ...
Over the last year, I’d listened with increasing awe to the stories of reaching Sump 9 in Swildon's, and had successfully managed to persuade Ben that he had to do the trip again with me (or else I’d just keep nagging…).
An early night followed by an impressive full English breakfast fuelled us as we made quick progress (except for having to deal with however I had last coiled the ladder), down the streamway and through Sump 1. We soon found ourselves packing on the pounds with lead, putting on a claustrophobic amount of neoprene, and cramming as many Snickers into our fancy new Ecrins as possible, before kneeling down in the Sump 2 pool.
I remember back in March, when I’d first dived 2 and 3 with Ben and Dan, there had been a great apprehension about free-diving these two sumps due to the possibility of them silting up. Now, seeing an airspace through all but the last metre of Sump 2, that seemed just like any ordinary day, and incomparable to the trip we had ahead of us – I pondered how odd it is that what we fear the most is often just that which is unknown.
Surfacing in the airbell, I asked Ben if I could dive Sump 3 first – I had a bone to pick with it. When I’d last dived it upstream, it had immediately and violently attacked my Sofirn, turning it off and leaving me stranded in the sump in the dark, dragging myself desperately along the ceiling to the next airbell. To my surprise, as I then took a deep breath and prepared myself for a fight, I was blessed with something beautiful – the sump was clear blue and I could see almost entirely through it. It was a completely serene experience being able to look around in this huge pool, so different to the evil murky pool that I’d found myself thrashing in only a few months earlier – I wouldn’t have thought a school of fish out of place now. I giggled and raved about this to Ben when he surfaced in Swildon’s 4 a few seconds later, although apparently all the silt I’d kicked up had meant we’d had slightly different experiences.
Swildon’s 4 – a beautiful bit of streamway, but no place to stop and gawp when dragging all that lead! Sump 4 had definitely been what we had regarded as the most dangerous part of the trip. It had been several months since anyone we knew had dived it; hence we would be unaware of any silt. Furthermore, Dan and I had recently heard a horror story of Dick Willis getting stuck in the sump, and having to bail it out underwater. Remarkably, we both slipped straight through with no issues, and even had great visibility!
Sump 5 was nothing short of epic. The water levels were undeniably low, which made pathfinding relatively easy, but even then there is something entirely unnatural about ducking between low airbells with your helmet in your hands. I told Ben it felt very reminiscent of something you’d see in a Royal Marines advert – apparently him and Dan had said the very same thing on their first trip!
Emerging out the other side, we began hunting for the Sump 6 bypass. We soon found ourselves climbing a narrowing phreatic tube, and becoming increasingly confused as we wriggled along a passage with several siphon hoses. It took an amusing half hour before we realised we’d ended up in Damp Link, which connects to the Shatter Series and the Short Round Trip – not the kind of sumps we were looking for! We quickly then found the correct climb up to the bypass and gracefully (sorry Dan…) slid through the duck leading to Swildon’s 7.
A short series of climbs and ducks (via the impressive Fault Chamber) made rapid progress to a dive line that led into the gorgeous Sump 9 pool – we’d made it! The water was remarkably blue, and I couldn’t resist going for a swim, although I imagine it’ll be some time until I dive it! Ben and I made guesses as to what time it was, and were amazed that it had been only two hours since we entered the cave – hence we decided to make a speedy exit so that we would still catch dinner at the Hunters’.
What followed next is something that neither Ben or I have been able to explain, and has led us to conclude that this must have been the work of a paranormal spirit which resides in the deeper echelons of the cave, preying on tired cavers. From the sump pool, we turned about, and I proceeded to follow Ben in a straight line back through Swildon’s 9. We passed a number of cave features that we’d encountered on the way in, so were sure of where we were. One of these features was a rung of an electron ladder embedded in a mud bank – but something was wrong. I distinctly remembered this being on my left as we approached the sump pool, but on our exit it is again on my left. Looking up, I see Ben standing once again in Sump 9, who then shouts: “I think it’s this way!”. Utterly bewildered, I tell him that we’re back at the sump pool, and that we needed to head back. At this moment I imagine us eternally stuck in Swildon’s 9, finding ourselves always back at the sump no matter which ways we take, forcing us to free-dive it in an attempt to break the curse.
Fortunately, we quickly found ourselves back at the Sump 7 bypass, the Fault Chamber and then the climb up back into the Sump 6 bypass. Overconfident, I made the mistake of taking my helmet off and trailing it behind me, resulting in the ceiling taking off a chunk of my face as I attempted to sit up too early. As we continued our rapid exit through the remaining sumps, we noted how impressively quickly the visibility in each had been lost. The sea-blue water of Sumps 2 and 3 had reverted to a brown murk, and ironically the only one in which I could see anything further than my hands was Sump 4. We broke this sad news to another caver at the 20 who was making an evening trip down to Sump 9, solo (there’s always someone cooler than you…), and scrambled our way back out of the upper series. Somehow, we’d managed the entire trip (including our detour to Damp Link) in less than four hours, and when we emerged it was still light outside! I’m incredibly grateful to all those in UBSS who’ve made the sport so welcoming to newer cavers like me, amazing trips like these would never have been possible otherwise :)
Sump 9. Nabbed from the Sumpicide Squad film in the last newsletter.
Exactly six months to the day since Joe Bidie first set foot in a cave, he found himself in a familiar place – standing at the top of the Swildon’s 20, rigging the pitch with Ben Morgan. This is the story of a very different trip ...
Over the last year, I’d listened with increasing awe to the stories of reaching Sump 9 in Swildon's, and had successfully managed to persuade Ben that he had to do the trip again with me (or else I’d just keep nagging…).
An early night followed by an impressive full English breakfast fuelled us as we made quick progress (except for having to deal with however I had last coiled the ladder), down the streamway and through Sump 1. We soon found ourselves packing on the pounds with lead, putting on a claustrophobic amount of neoprene, and cramming as many Snickers into our fancy new Ecrins as possible, before kneeling down in the Sump 2 pool.
I remember back in March, when I’d first dived 2 and 3 with Ben and Dan, there had been a great apprehension about free-diving these two sumps due to the possibility of them silting up. Now, seeing an airspace through all but the last metre of Sump 2, that seemed just like any ordinary day, and incomparable to the trip we had ahead of us – I pondered how odd it is that what we fear the most is often just that which is unknown.
Surfacing in the airbell, I asked Ben if I could dive Sump 3 first – I had a bone to pick with it. When I’d last dived it upstream, it had immediately and violently attacked my Sofirn, turning it off and leaving me stranded in the sump in the dark, dragging myself desperately along the ceiling to the next airbell. To my surprise, as I then took a deep breath and prepared myself for a fight, I was blessed with something beautiful – the sump was clear blue and I could see almost entirely through it. It was a completely serene experience being able to look around in this huge pool, so different to the evil murky pool that I’d found myself thrashing in only a few months earlier – I wouldn’t have thought a school of fish out of place now. I giggled and raved about this to Ben when he surfaced in Swildon’s 4 a few seconds later, although apparently all the silt I’d kicked up had meant we’d had slightly different experiences.
Swildon’s 4 – a beautiful bit of streamway, but no place to stop and gawp when dragging all that lead! Sump 4 had definitely been what we had regarded as the most dangerous part of the trip. It had been several months since anyone we knew had dived it; hence we would be unaware of any silt. Furthermore, Dan and I had recently heard a horror story of Dick Willis getting stuck in the sump, and having to bail it out underwater. Remarkably, we both slipped straight through with no issues, and even had great visibility!
Sump 5 was nothing short of epic. The water levels were undeniably low, which made pathfinding relatively easy, but even then there is something entirely unnatural about ducking between low airbells with your helmet in your hands. I told Ben it felt very reminiscent of something you’d see in a Royal Marines advert – apparently him and Dan had said the very same thing on their first trip!
Emerging out the other side, we began hunting for the Sump 6 bypass. We soon found ourselves climbing a narrowing phreatic tube, and becoming increasingly confused as we wriggled along a passage with several siphon hoses. It took an amusing half hour before we realised we’d ended up in Damp Link, which connects to the Shatter Series and the Short Round Trip – not the kind of sumps we were looking for! We quickly then found the correct climb up to the bypass and gracefully (sorry Dan…) slid through the duck leading to Swildon’s 7.
A short series of climbs and ducks (via the impressive Fault Chamber) made rapid progress to a dive line that led into the gorgeous Sump 9 pool – we’d made it! The water was remarkably blue, and I couldn’t resist going for a swim, although I imagine it’ll be some time until I dive it! Ben and I made guesses as to what time it was, and were amazed that it had been only two hours since we entered the cave – hence we decided to make a speedy exit so that we would still catch dinner at the Hunters’.
What followed next is something that neither Ben or I have been able to explain, and has led us to conclude that this must have been the work of a paranormal spirit which resides in the deeper echelons of the cave, preying on tired cavers. From the sump pool, we turned about, and I proceeded to follow Ben in a straight line back through Swildon’s 9. We passed a number of cave features that we’d encountered on the way in, so were sure of where we were. One of these features was a rung of an electron ladder embedded in a mud bank – but something was wrong. I distinctly remembered this being on my left as we approached the sump pool, but on our exit it is again on my left. Looking up, I see Ben standing once again in Sump 9, who then shouts: “I think it’s this way!”. Utterly bewildered, I tell him that we’re back at the sump pool, and that we needed to head back. At this moment I imagine us eternally stuck in Swildon’s 9, finding ourselves always back at the sump no matter which ways we take, forcing us to free-dive it in an attempt to break the curse.
Fortunately, we quickly found ourselves back at the Sump 7 bypass, the Fault Chamber and then the climb up back into the Sump 6 bypass. Overconfident, I made the mistake of taking my helmet off and trailing it behind me, resulting in the ceiling taking off a chunk of my face as I attempted to sit up too early. As we continued our rapid exit through the remaining sumps, we noted how impressively quickly the visibility in each had been lost. The sea-blue water of Sumps 2 and 3 had reverted to a brown murk, and ironically the only one in which I could see anything further than my hands was Sump 4. We broke this sad news to another caver at the 20 who was making an evening trip down to Sump 9, solo (there’s always someone cooler than you…), and scrambled our way back out of the upper series. Somehow, we’d managed the entire trip (including our detour to Damp Link) in less than four hours, and when we emerged it was still light outside! I’m incredibly grateful to all those in UBSS who’ve made the sport so welcoming to newer cavers like me, amazing trips like these would never have been possible otherwise :)
Joe Bidie
BEGINNER'S LUCK
Harry Kettle in the sunset. Photo by James Hallihan.
James Hallihan had an early start to Expo, setting off around 4am on a Saturday to drive over to Dover. It might be a long way to Tipperary, but it's an even longer way to Austria!
As I pulled into Dover, I recognised a car just in front of me, with no communication, Tom Phillips and I had turned up within a few minutes of each other for the same ferry. We stayed together as far as the exit ramp at Calais where Tom’s more fuel efficient engine didn’t need to stop for fuel whereas I did.
I settled in for the long 16 hour drive to base camp and made my way through northern France into Belgium and then on to Luxembourg. In Luxembourg I got a call from Tom, his euro light adapter had fallen off and I had a spare so we agreed to meet in a service station. Unfortunately, I managed to miss this service station and in trying to reprogram my sat nav, I’d lost the directions to Austria and lost signal to reload anything. I somehow managed to find my way to the American War Cemetery where I finally got a signal, phoned Tom to meet up with me and reprogrammed my sat nav.
After sorting all this I realised I was quite tired so set my directions to a castle near Saarbrucken to sleep for the night. Early the next morning I set off for the final seven hour stretch and somewhere on the Österreichromantischstrasse I saw messages start popping up on Signal: “X’s car is heading up the road now”. A few months earlier it had been mentioned that the toll road up to the plateau had implemented a new rule barring us from driving up between 8am and 4pm, these messages were coming through around 1pm. I thought this was excellent news, the toll road have changed the rules, no crazy early mornings.
I thought this all the way until I parked at base camp, met Frank Tully to get told: “Ah excellent, get your shit together, you’re going up the hill, there’s a stretcher carry.”
Turns out, the day before, someone had been prussiking up in deep Balkonhöhle when a rock (roughly the size of a large microwave) fell out of the ceiling, narrowly missed their head and hit her leg. They’d then managed to one leg prussik up the remaining 300m, walk the 45 minutes across the plateau to top camp and then begin walking back down the plateau to get to base camp before they decided their legs were a bit sore. An entertaining welcome to the plateau had the fortunate result of being a bad haematoma and bruise instead of a broken leg.
Top Camp in the sun but beer is banned. Photo by Charlotte Payne.
The next couple of days were spent relaxing at base camp ready for the annual Expo dinner. After the hangover eventually wore off and I was legal to drive up the toll road, a group of us set off towards top camp. The next day, Tom and I decided to spend a day prospecting and managed to find a few tempting looking holes before the rain that seemed to hang over Expo for the duration drove us back to top camp. After a delightful meal of boil in the bag curry and dehydrated noodles, I cracked open a beer and watched the sunset (later got told off for this as beer is apparently taboo at top camp).
A sleeping bag with a view on one of the few good mornings at Top Camp by James Hallihan.
Early the next morning, I bumped into Harry Kettle who asked me what my plans were. A response of “I’m not sure yet” was met with, “Well, if you’re ready in ten minutes, Hannah and I are heading down to KH [Kaninchenhöhle]”. I got ready and joined them in what turned out to be a fruitful trip. Spending 11 hours underground, we pushed what they described as their “grotty looking C lead that’ll probably crap out” down a 25m pitch, across around 150m to the top of a void. We chucked a stone down and it fell for roughly three seconds (indicating around 40 + metres). We looked around at everyone nodding in satisfaction at a decent sized pitch and then heard the rock finally hit the bottom with a loud boom four or five seconds later (at least another 80 metres). Hannah C began bolting and an hour or so later we ran out of rope and turned around, we’d put 100m of rope in and Hannah couldn’t see the bottom.
Hamish Weir overlooking Triassic Park in KH. Photo by Ashley Gregg.
Later nerding placed this pitch dropping into a blank space near the end of Razordance, a quite exciting lead for next year! The next few days were filled with more prospecting, rain, lake days and far, far too many homemade chips. By the end of the expedition I did have to wonder what the people at Big Billa thought of the weird group of English who came in every other day buying 10kg of potatoes and several slabs of beer.
My next proper caving trip was down the newly discovered Popperhöhle (renamed to Beginner's Luck or Anfganglück) where we surveyed an aven shooting off the main route and pushed towards a theorised connection with the far reaches of KH. Unfortunately, this connection is probable but too tight. We later found an advantage of constant rain, you barely notice flood pulses and everything’s already rigged to be dry! Most of our trips were in a nice comfortable section whereas Ned had bolted a pitch and had to wait at the bottom in between a few water spouts. After a few hours we surfaced and headed back to our trusty curry and noodle dinners.
All too soon time for derig came around, Hamish and I headed west to derig and survey a cave he had dropped and left rigged in week one (Becka wasn’t happy with the rope that could have been used elsewhere). Due to the very small break in weather, everyone had to happen quickly and we managed to get the top camp and balcony all derigged in one day, just in time for Alice Kirby to run down the track and reach a petrol station minutes before it shut to get potatoes as we’d run out of chip supplies.
Post expo group photo by Mark Shinwell. UBSS members James Hallihan and Ashley Gregg are sixth and seventh from the left in the front row.
Soon afterwards, basecamp was derigged, people headed off and a small group of us (me, Lara, Hannah UG, Hamish and Phil S) settled in for one last night before heading our separate ways (mostly to the Pyrenees).
Harry Kettle in the sunset. Photo by James Hallihan.
James Hallihan had an early start to Expo, setting off around 4am on a Saturday to drive over to Dover. It might be a long way to Tipperary, but it's an even longer way to Austria!
As I pulled into Dover, I recognised a car just in front of me, with no communication, Tom Phillips and I had turned up within a few minutes of each other for the same ferry. We stayed together as far as the exit ramp at Calais where Tom’s more fuel efficient engine didn’t need to stop for fuel whereas I did.
I settled in for the long 16 hour drive to base camp and made my way through northern France into Belgium and then on to Luxembourg. In Luxembourg I got a call from Tom, his euro light adapter had fallen off and I had a spare so we agreed to meet in a service station. Unfortunately, I managed to miss this service station and in trying to reprogram my sat nav, I’d lost the directions to Austria and lost signal to reload anything. I somehow managed to find my way to the American War Cemetery where I finally got a signal, phoned Tom to meet up with me and reprogrammed my sat nav.
After sorting all this I realised I was quite tired so set my directions to a castle near Saarbrucken to sleep for the night. Early the next morning I set off for the final seven hour stretch and somewhere on the Österreichromantischstrasse I saw messages start popping up on Signal: “X’s car is heading up the road now”. A few months earlier it had been mentioned that the toll road up to the plateau had implemented a new rule barring us from driving up between 8am and 4pm, these messages were coming through around 1pm. I thought this was excellent news, the toll road have changed the rules, no crazy early mornings.
I thought this all the way until I parked at base camp, met Frank Tully to get told: “Ah excellent, get your shit together, you’re going up the hill, there’s a stretcher carry.”
Turns out, the day before, someone had been prussiking up in deep Balkonhöhle when a rock (roughly the size of a large microwave) fell out of the ceiling, narrowly missed their head and hit her leg. They’d then managed to one leg prussik up the remaining 300m, walk the 45 minutes across the plateau to top camp and then begin walking back down the plateau to get to base camp before they decided their legs were a bit sore. An entertaining welcome to the plateau had the fortunate result of being a bad haematoma and bruise instead of a broken leg.
Top Camp in the sun but beer is banned. Photo by Charlotte Payne.
The next couple of days were spent relaxing at base camp ready for the annual Expo dinner. After the hangover eventually wore off and I was legal to drive up the toll road, a group of us set off towards top camp. The next day, Tom and I decided to spend a day prospecting and managed to find a few tempting looking holes before the rain that seemed to hang over Expo for the duration drove us back to top camp. After a delightful meal of boil in the bag curry and dehydrated noodles, I cracked open a beer and watched the sunset (later got told off for this as beer is apparently taboo at top camp).
A sleeping bag with a view on one of the few good mornings at Top Camp by James Hallihan.
Early the next morning, I bumped into Harry Kettle who asked me what my plans were. A response of “I’m not sure yet” was met with, “Well, if you’re ready in ten minutes, Hannah and I are heading down to KH [Kaninchenhöhle]”. I got ready and joined them in what turned out to be a fruitful trip. Spending 11 hours underground, we pushed what they described as their “grotty looking C lead that’ll probably crap out” down a 25m pitch, across around 150m to the top of a void. We chucked a stone down and it fell for roughly three seconds (indicating around 40 + metres). We looked around at everyone nodding in satisfaction at a decent sized pitch and then heard the rock finally hit the bottom with a loud boom four or five seconds later (at least another 80 metres). Hannah C began bolting and an hour or so later we ran out of rope and turned around, we’d put 100m of rope in and Hannah couldn’t see the bottom.
Hamish Weir overlooking Triassic Park in KH. Photo by Ashley Gregg.
Later nerding placed this pitch dropping into a blank space near the end of Razordance, a quite exciting lead for next year! The next few days were filled with more prospecting, rain, lake days and far, far too many homemade chips. By the end of the expedition I did have to wonder what the people at Big Billa thought of the weird group of English who came in every other day buying 10kg of potatoes and several slabs of beer.
My next proper caving trip was down the newly discovered Popperhöhle (renamed to Beginner's Luck or Anfganglück) where we surveyed an aven shooting off the main route and pushed towards a theorised connection with the far reaches of KH. Unfortunately, this connection is probable but too tight. We later found an advantage of constant rain, you barely notice flood pulses and everything’s already rigged to be dry! Most of our trips were in a nice comfortable section whereas Ned had bolted a pitch and had to wait at the bottom in between a few water spouts. After a few hours we surfaced and headed back to our trusty curry and noodle dinners.
All too soon time for derig came around, Hamish and I headed west to derig and survey a cave he had dropped and left rigged in week one (Becka wasn’t happy with the rope that could have been used elsewhere). Due to the very small break in weather, everyone had to happen quickly and we managed to get the top camp and balcony all derigged in one day, just in time for Alice Kirby to run down the track and reach a petrol station minutes before it shut to get potatoes as we’d run out of chip supplies.
Post expo group photo by Mark Shinwell. UBSS members James Hallihan and Ashley Gregg are sixth and seventh from the left in the front row.
Soon afterwards, basecamp was derigged, people headed off and a small group of us (me, Lara, Hannah UG, Hamish and Phil S) settled in for one last night before heading our separate ways (mostly to the Pyrenees).
James Hallihan
IN THE NEWS
A quick round up of anything cave related that's been hitting the headlines.
Remains of extinct Bronze Age Cattle Found in a Yorkshire cave.
Does stal hold the clue to whether did drought contributes to the decline and fall of Mayan civilisations?
A quick round up of anything cave related that's been hitting the headlines.
Remains of extinct Bronze Age Cattle Found in a Yorkshire cave.
Does stal hold the clue to whether did drought contributes to the decline and fall of Mayan civilisations?
DEEP INTO THE VOID - A Belgian Thriller
The story so far … An expedition from the Mendip University Caving Society (MUCS) or as they prefer to be known the Underworld's Best Bruisers (UBBs) are lost in Belgium's infamous Grotte du Fromage. In a classic thriller cliché, Suraya and Fullbright have become separated from Professor Olivia Witty and cheese biologist Lucille while traversing an underground river …
Chapter 4: Law and Odour
“What do we do now?” Fullbright’s voice wobbled like a lump of mozzarella that had just caught sight of a sharp knife, a tomato and a wilted basil leaf. He collapsed on slope of mouldy Manchega and air pockets farted miserably under his weight, intensifying the stench.
Their mad scramble up a Bleu des Causses boulder choke, had bought them an illusion of safety and from there they’d slithered and cursed their way through a low, back-breaking crawl to emerge in a small chamber that reeked of disappointment and mould.
Suraya sighed. “We carry on, you pillock. What do you think we do? Sit here and try to eat our fucking way out?”
“I don’t even like cheese any more.” The admission dropped from Fullbright’s lips like a lump of waxed Black Bomber Cheddar.
“I never fucking did.”
Fullbright’s Fenix blinked once, clearly mortified by the confessions, then died a quiet death.
He whimpered.
In the dim glow of her own dying headtorch, Suraya rummaged in her capacious tackle bag and pulled out two new lights. She chucked one at Fullbright and quickly changed the one on her own cheese-encrusted helmet. “Your Sofirn is your friend. Treat it like one.”
She stuffed the two dead Fenixes into her bag. They’d do for the next intake of freshers. You didn’t need a working light in Goatchurch or Swildon’s anyway. There were always enough proudly affixed to the helmets of better organised clubs. And anyway, if things went according to plan, that wouldn’t be her problem … “Actually, scrub that, I’ve seen how you treat your friends. Treat them like the child-free aunt you’re smarming up to for a large legacy.”
A moment later, two search light beams penetrated the darkness and sent startled cheese worms scuttling for cover.
Fullbright blinked like a myopic owl. “#Hashtag amazing!”
“Make sure you get some good footage for the sponsors,” Suraya told him. “And stay here. I need to find the way on.”
His upper lip wobbled even more as though sensing the approach of a sharp knife intent on the sort of summer salad that Nigella threw together with no thought for the suffering of the unfortunate ingredients. “Don’t leave me!”
“Don’t tempt me!” As a sop to his delicate sensibilities, Suraya chucked her tackle bag down at his feet. “There, you can keep that as a hostage, but open it and I’ll disembowel you. Got it?”
“#Hashtag scared now.”
“More filming, less whining. If you see anything move just turn your light up to turbo and stare at it, just don’t keep it on too long or you’ll cause a meltdown. This place is as unstable as a soufflé in an earthquake.”
Fullbright nodded. More afraid of her than he was of the cave.
Good. Something was finally going her way in this whole clusterfuck. She needed to find Professor Witty and Lucille and she was going to have to do it while dragging a bloody great big wet blanket behind her. As her old boss always said, never bring a man to do a woman’s job.
And talking of the Eccentric Academic, Suraya was certain the whole team were expendable in that bloody woman’s eyes, and Fullbright Ffairwether-fforde (two ffs, lowercase after the hyphen, darling; the family came over with the Conqueror, didn’t you know?) was more expendable than most. His ancestors might have come over in 1066, but they’d probably just scarpered to a nice little gaff in the countryside to oppress a few serfs or whatever the aristocracy did for fun in those days. Come the revolution, the fat-cat fuckers (one f, both times, no matter what the effing Ffairwether-fforde’s might think) would be first against the wall.
Suraya crept forward, panning her light around the chamber. The passage ahead was a low, sagging, cholesterol-laden nightmare, the roof stippled with blue-green mould looking unsettlingly like veins.
“Promising,” she muttered and dropped to her knees.
Fullbright’s answering whisper echoed far too loudly. “Is it safe?”
She turned, expression glacial. “In what world would any of this be safe? We’re in a cave lined with cheese. There are prehistoric reptiles with cave-aged Cheddar for teeth. And something growled at us in French. So, no, darling. It’s not safe. But we’re going this way. Your preferences are strictly optional.”
Fullbright shuddered and after a final panorama shot on his phone for the sponsors stuffed it inside his oversuit, for once, opting not to narrate his own imminent death for social media. Progress. Maybe the boy had a brain somewhere after all.
The passage lowered even further, forcing them to wriggle over slippery rinds and squeeze under bulbous stalactites that dripped ominously. The air grew thicker, humid, and sour with age and hostility.
Suraya’s light picked out the glint of something metallic ahead, wedged in a crevice.
She thrutched forward and tugged it free to peer at a serial number. “DMM. Retro model. Early 2000s. The missing expo had a few of these.”
Fullbright peered over her shoulder. “What’s it doing here?”
She shot him a look. “Probably accessorising the décor. What do you think? Someone dropped it. We’re not the first idiots to get lost in here.”
The words hung in the air like a very noticeable bad smell, which, considering their surroundings, was quite an achievement.
They pressed on, finally clambering down a treacherous slope of compacted feta crumbs. Suraya’s light swept across a ledge and caught a dull, plastic sheen. She scraped away some of the feta to reveal a battered helmet - headlamp long dead, chinstrap gnawed through. She tossed it casually at Fullbright. It would still do fine for a fresher …
He gagged. “Oh god, is that…?”
“Just a helmet, sans head. Congratulations, you’re still not the worst thing I’ve found underground.”
A shadow flitted across the beam of her Sofirn – a long, sinuous blur that melted back into the gloom.
“Move,” she hissed, shoving Fullbright forward. “Quietly. Don’t look back.”
They scrambled down another slope, splashing across a shallow pool that smelled like rancid butter. The water rippled unnaturally, as if something massive had slipped through just ahead.
Fullbright stumbled and went sprawling, sending a wave of whey across the floor. Suraya grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright just as a pair of red glowing eyes materialised in the darkness behind them on the far side of the pool. It seemed even nature couldn’t resist a cliché.
Fullbright flinched. “What the fuck is that?”
Suraya’s lips curved into a tight, humourless smile. “If I had to guess? The Cheese Ocelot isn’t a myth after all. Lucille is going to love this. This is the stuff PhDs are made of.”
The creature slunk closer, and the torchlight caught the slick gleam of its fur—matted with mould and streaked with veins of marbled Stilton blue. Its teeth were long, sharp, and disturbingly shiny.
“Walk slowly,” Suraya instructed calmly. “Don’t let it know you’re afraid. And close your eyes, it’s about to get a Sofirn Blast.”
“#Hashtag fucking terrified,” Fullbright muttered. He was a lot better at running than he was at walking. Only Suraya’s fingers in a death grip on his collar kept him in check.
Suraya’s brain flicked through every survival lesson she’d ever absorbed underground. None of them had covered carnivorous cheese cats. She’d just have to hope the Sofirn lived up to its reputation.
It did. Five seconds on turbo mode practically burnt through even her tightly closed eyes. When she opened them, sunspots dancing in her vision like drunken fireflies, the red eyes had gone.
“Shift your arse!” She shoved Fullbright through a narrow rift ahead.
They tumbled into a new chamber – enormous, cathedral-like, and glowing faintly gold in thriller cliché number 8b. Towering wheels of cheese, stacked with the precision of a Greek column lined the walls, some cracked and weeping pale fluid into pools below. Ancient ropes and rusted P-hangers clung to the walls. Relics of the missing expedition; she recognised the shite rigging.
At the centre of the chamber, a rust-streaked sign in French declared hopefully: ENTREPÔT FROMAGER – ACCÈS INTERDIT. Tied to one of the better-looking bolts with a long sling (one of the new ones, probably not even signed out) was an unconscious Lucille.
Suraya exhaled slowly. “Fucking hell.” She signalled Fullbright to stay put with a glare sharp enough to slice a block of Himalayan Chhurpi in half. His lips wobbled, but he obeyed, hugging her tackle bag like a security blanket.
She switched off her Sofirn, gesturing to Fullbright to do the same, letting the golden glow of the storage chamber wash over them.
The cavern was silent but for the soft drip of whey and the occasional ominous shuffle of something large in the shadows.
Suraya slid a hand inside her oversuit and withdrew a sleek, matte-black device: a folding baton disguised as a telescopic cheese tester. The letters CMB—Cheese Marketing Board—were etched faintly on the handle. She flicked it open with a threatening snap. It would also double as a taser, if the R&D Department’s claims were to be believed.
“All right, Witty,” she murmured. “Let’s see what you’re up to.”
She crept along the edge of the cavern, boots silent on the ancient rinds. A faint, warm light flickered from a side passage beyond it. Someone’s Fenix was still working. Witty was bound to have nabbed one of the decent ones. Suraya froze, straining to listen.
Voices. One of them was unmistakably Olivia Witty’s, using that calm, mocking tone she deployed in seminars and departmental meetings when humiliating anyone foolish enough to question her dubious methods and non-existent grasp of textual analysis.
“…three tonnes of 80-year Comté, exclusive rights,” she was saying, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “And that’s just from this chamber. There are three other storage vaults. The futures market will explode once this gets released.”
Cheese futures. Witty had been under observation for at least a year – her suspicious grants, her advance knowledge of when consignments from obscure caves would find their way into black-market auctions, the sudden influx of funding for the caving club (a source of willing sacrificial victims all desperate for a validation on their first scientific expedition).
And, more to the point, staggering amounts of money being made from what her boss believed was insider trading on the futures market. Suraya had no idea how it all worked, despite being bombarded in briefings with terms like standardised contracts, predetermined prices and underlying assets until all she wanted to do was shoot more holes in the office Emmental.
Another voice, this time with a suspicious hint of a Russian accent, cut in, “And the Board suspects nothing?”
Witty laughed. “The Board suspects everything, sweetpea. But by the time they act, I’ll have the markets in their knees. Lactose intolerance is so last decade.”
Suraya moved closer, flattening herself against a monolithic wheel of Gouda the size of a Smart car. She peered around the edge of the passage and saw her quarry, counting cheese ingots covered in red wax stacked on a pallet while a man in a sleek black oversuit took photographs on his phone.
Witty looked every inch the academic villain: calm, poised, and utterly ruthless. The previous expedition had obviously got too close to her schemes and were no doubt long gone, food for the ocelot and the gators.
Suraya’s fingers tightened on the baton and she stepped into the light. “Professor Olivia Witty You’re under arrest for illegal manipulation of dairy futures, unauthorised harvesting and export of heritage cheese specimens, and …” she glanced at the other man, “… collusion with known terrorists and criminals. I’m sure you’ll enjoy giving your seminar on Ethics in Cave Exploration from a prison cell.”
Olivia froze, wearing a well-worn expression of mild annoyance. “Suraya. Darling. What an… unexpected inconvenience.”
“Europol Cheese Marketing Board Enforcement Division,” Suraya said crisply, flashing a laminated identity card that depicted a smiling wedge of Parmesan stamped with the words United in Dairy.
The man in black melted away into a side passage, moving silently in the murk. Suraya ignored him, he wasn’t part of this mission. He was definitely above her pay grade.
“You’ll regret this,” Witty snarled, gearing up for the usual thwarted villain monologue. “Do you think the Cheese Marketing Board really controls the dairy market? There are bigger players, Suraya. Older players. And we’re even not in the fucking EU any more, I can do what I want!”
Suraya shrugged. “Save it for the judge!” If she’d had a tenner for every tedious threat she’d had to listen to, she’d be lying on a beach on a tropical island that had never even fucking heard of cheese. Her idea of paradise.
Witty sidestepped quickly, producing a cheese-wire garrotte from her belt. She lashed out aiming for Suraya’s neck.
Suraya pressed the largest button and offered a silent prayer to the Blessed Maker of all Dairy Products. A crackle, a flare and for once, the lazy bastards in R&D earned their money as Professor Witty crumpled to the floor, twitching like a pair of wetsocks threatened with a washing machine.
Suraya snapped a pair of shiny handcuffs onto the woman’s wrists. “Congratulations, Professor. You’ve just learnt that investments can go down as well as up.”
The story so far … An expedition from the Mendip University Caving Society (MUCS) or as they prefer to be known the Underworld's Best Bruisers (UBBs) are lost in Belgium's infamous Grotte du Fromage. In a classic thriller cliché, Suraya and Fullbright have become separated from Professor Olivia Witty and cheese biologist Lucille while traversing an underground river …
Chapter 4: Law and Odour
“What do we do now?” Fullbright’s voice wobbled like a lump of mozzarella that had just caught sight of a sharp knife, a tomato and a wilted basil leaf. He collapsed on slope of mouldy Manchega and air pockets farted miserably under his weight, intensifying the stench.
Their mad scramble up a Bleu des Causses boulder choke, had bought them an illusion of safety and from there they’d slithered and cursed their way through a low, back-breaking crawl to emerge in a small chamber that reeked of disappointment and mould.
Suraya sighed. “We carry on, you pillock. What do you think we do? Sit here and try to eat our fucking way out?”
“I don’t even like cheese any more.” The admission dropped from Fullbright’s lips like a lump of waxed Black Bomber Cheddar.
“I never fucking did.”
Fullbright’s Fenix blinked once, clearly mortified by the confessions, then died a quiet death.
He whimpered.
In the dim glow of her own dying headtorch, Suraya rummaged in her capacious tackle bag and pulled out two new lights. She chucked one at Fullbright and quickly changed the one on her own cheese-encrusted helmet. “Your Sofirn is your friend. Treat it like one.”
She stuffed the two dead Fenixes into her bag. They’d do for the next intake of freshers. You didn’t need a working light in Goatchurch or Swildon’s anyway. There were always enough proudly affixed to the helmets of better organised clubs. And anyway, if things went according to plan, that wouldn’t be her problem … “Actually, scrub that, I’ve seen how you treat your friends. Treat them like the child-free aunt you’re smarming up to for a large legacy.”
A moment later, two search light beams penetrated the darkness and sent startled cheese worms scuttling for cover.
Fullbright blinked like a myopic owl. “#Hashtag amazing!”
“Make sure you get some good footage for the sponsors,” Suraya told him. “And stay here. I need to find the way on.”
His upper lip wobbled even more as though sensing the approach of a sharp knife intent on the sort of summer salad that Nigella threw together with no thought for the suffering of the unfortunate ingredients. “Don’t leave me!”
“Don’t tempt me!” As a sop to his delicate sensibilities, Suraya chucked her tackle bag down at his feet. “There, you can keep that as a hostage, but open it and I’ll disembowel you. Got it?”
“#Hashtag scared now.”
“More filming, less whining. If you see anything move just turn your light up to turbo and stare at it, just don’t keep it on too long or you’ll cause a meltdown. This place is as unstable as a soufflé in an earthquake.”
Fullbright nodded. More afraid of her than he was of the cave.
Good. Something was finally going her way in this whole clusterfuck. She needed to find Professor Witty and Lucille and she was going to have to do it while dragging a bloody great big wet blanket behind her. As her old boss always said, never bring a man to do a woman’s job.
And talking of the Eccentric Academic, Suraya was certain the whole team were expendable in that bloody woman’s eyes, and Fullbright Ffairwether-fforde (two ffs, lowercase after the hyphen, darling; the family came over with the Conqueror, didn’t you know?) was more expendable than most. His ancestors might have come over in 1066, but they’d probably just scarpered to a nice little gaff in the countryside to oppress a few serfs or whatever the aristocracy did for fun in those days. Come the revolution, the fat-cat fuckers (one f, both times, no matter what the effing Ffairwether-fforde’s might think) would be first against the wall.
Suraya crept forward, panning her light around the chamber. The passage ahead was a low, sagging, cholesterol-laden nightmare, the roof stippled with blue-green mould looking unsettlingly like veins.
“Promising,” she muttered and dropped to her knees.
Fullbright’s answering whisper echoed far too loudly. “Is it safe?”
She turned, expression glacial. “In what world would any of this be safe? We’re in a cave lined with cheese. There are prehistoric reptiles with cave-aged Cheddar for teeth. And something growled at us in French. So, no, darling. It’s not safe. But we’re going this way. Your preferences are strictly optional.”
Fullbright shuddered and after a final panorama shot on his phone for the sponsors stuffed it inside his oversuit, for once, opting not to narrate his own imminent death for social media. Progress. Maybe the boy had a brain somewhere after all.
The passage lowered even further, forcing them to wriggle over slippery rinds and squeeze under bulbous stalactites that dripped ominously. The air grew thicker, humid, and sour with age and hostility.
Suraya’s light picked out the glint of something metallic ahead, wedged in a crevice.
She thrutched forward and tugged it free to peer at a serial number. “DMM. Retro model. Early 2000s. The missing expo had a few of these.”
Fullbright peered over her shoulder. “What’s it doing here?”
She shot him a look. “Probably accessorising the décor. What do you think? Someone dropped it. We’re not the first idiots to get lost in here.”
The words hung in the air like a very noticeable bad smell, which, considering their surroundings, was quite an achievement.
They pressed on, finally clambering down a treacherous slope of compacted feta crumbs. Suraya’s light swept across a ledge and caught a dull, plastic sheen. She scraped away some of the feta to reveal a battered helmet - headlamp long dead, chinstrap gnawed through. She tossed it casually at Fullbright. It would still do fine for a fresher …
He gagged. “Oh god, is that…?”
“Just a helmet, sans head. Congratulations, you’re still not the worst thing I’ve found underground.”
A shadow flitted across the beam of her Sofirn – a long, sinuous blur that melted back into the gloom.
“Move,” she hissed, shoving Fullbright forward. “Quietly. Don’t look back.”
They scrambled down another slope, splashing across a shallow pool that smelled like rancid butter. The water rippled unnaturally, as if something massive had slipped through just ahead.
Fullbright stumbled and went sprawling, sending a wave of whey across the floor. Suraya grabbed him by the collar and yanked him upright just as a pair of red glowing eyes materialised in the darkness behind them on the far side of the pool. It seemed even nature couldn’t resist a cliché.
Fullbright flinched. “What the fuck is that?”
Suraya’s lips curved into a tight, humourless smile. “If I had to guess? The Cheese Ocelot isn’t a myth after all. Lucille is going to love this. This is the stuff PhDs are made of.”
The creature slunk closer, and the torchlight caught the slick gleam of its fur—matted with mould and streaked with veins of marbled Stilton blue. Its teeth were long, sharp, and disturbingly shiny.
“Walk slowly,” Suraya instructed calmly. “Don’t let it know you’re afraid. And close your eyes, it’s about to get a Sofirn Blast.”
“#Hashtag fucking terrified,” Fullbright muttered. He was a lot better at running than he was at walking. Only Suraya’s fingers in a death grip on his collar kept him in check.
Suraya’s brain flicked through every survival lesson she’d ever absorbed underground. None of them had covered carnivorous cheese cats. She’d just have to hope the Sofirn lived up to its reputation.
It did. Five seconds on turbo mode practically burnt through even her tightly closed eyes. When she opened them, sunspots dancing in her vision like drunken fireflies, the red eyes had gone.
“Shift your arse!” She shoved Fullbright through a narrow rift ahead.
They tumbled into a new chamber – enormous, cathedral-like, and glowing faintly gold in thriller cliché number 8b. Towering wheels of cheese, stacked with the precision of a Greek column lined the walls, some cracked and weeping pale fluid into pools below. Ancient ropes and rusted P-hangers clung to the walls. Relics of the missing expedition; she recognised the shite rigging.
At the centre of the chamber, a rust-streaked sign in French declared hopefully: ENTREPÔT FROMAGER – ACCÈS INTERDIT. Tied to one of the better-looking bolts with a long sling (one of the new ones, probably not even signed out) was an unconscious Lucille.
Suraya exhaled slowly. “Fucking hell.” She signalled Fullbright to stay put with a glare sharp enough to slice a block of Himalayan Chhurpi in half. His lips wobbled, but he obeyed, hugging her tackle bag like a security blanket.
She switched off her Sofirn, gesturing to Fullbright to do the same, letting the golden glow of the storage chamber wash over them.
The cavern was silent but for the soft drip of whey and the occasional ominous shuffle of something large in the shadows.
Suraya slid a hand inside her oversuit and withdrew a sleek, matte-black device: a folding baton disguised as a telescopic cheese tester. The letters CMB—Cheese Marketing Board—were etched faintly on the handle. She flicked it open with a threatening snap. It would also double as a taser, if the R&D Department’s claims were to be believed.
“All right, Witty,” she murmured. “Let’s see what you’re up to.”
She crept along the edge of the cavern, boots silent on the ancient rinds. A faint, warm light flickered from a side passage beyond it. Someone’s Fenix was still working. Witty was bound to have nabbed one of the decent ones. Suraya froze, straining to listen.
Voices. One of them was unmistakably Olivia Witty’s, using that calm, mocking tone she deployed in seminars and departmental meetings when humiliating anyone foolish enough to question her dubious methods and non-existent grasp of textual analysis.
“…three tonnes of 80-year Comté, exclusive rights,” she was saying, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “And that’s just from this chamber. There are three other storage vaults. The futures market will explode once this gets released.”
Cheese futures. Witty had been under observation for at least a year – her suspicious grants, her advance knowledge of when consignments from obscure caves would find their way into black-market auctions, the sudden influx of funding for the caving club (a source of willing sacrificial victims all desperate for a validation on their first scientific expedition).
And, more to the point, staggering amounts of money being made from what her boss believed was insider trading on the futures market. Suraya had no idea how it all worked, despite being bombarded in briefings with terms like standardised contracts, predetermined prices and underlying assets until all she wanted to do was shoot more holes in the office Emmental.
Another voice, this time with a suspicious hint of a Russian accent, cut in, “And the Board suspects nothing?”
Witty laughed. “The Board suspects everything, sweetpea. But by the time they act, I’ll have the markets in their knees. Lactose intolerance is so last decade.”
Suraya moved closer, flattening herself against a monolithic wheel of Gouda the size of a Smart car. She peered around the edge of the passage and saw her quarry, counting cheese ingots covered in red wax stacked on a pallet while a man in a sleek black oversuit took photographs on his phone.
Witty looked every inch the academic villain: calm, poised, and utterly ruthless. The previous expedition had obviously got too close to her schemes and were no doubt long gone, food for the ocelot and the gators.
Suraya’s fingers tightened on the baton and she stepped into the light. “Professor Olivia Witty You’re under arrest for illegal manipulation of dairy futures, unauthorised harvesting and export of heritage cheese specimens, and …” she glanced at the other man, “… collusion with known terrorists and criminals. I’m sure you’ll enjoy giving your seminar on Ethics in Cave Exploration from a prison cell.”
Olivia froze, wearing a well-worn expression of mild annoyance. “Suraya. Darling. What an… unexpected inconvenience.”
“Europol Cheese Marketing Board Enforcement Division,” Suraya said crisply, flashing a laminated identity card that depicted a smiling wedge of Parmesan stamped with the words United in Dairy.
The man in black melted away into a side passage, moving silently in the murk. Suraya ignored him, he wasn’t part of this mission. He was definitely above her pay grade.
“You’ll regret this,” Witty snarled, gearing up for the usual thwarted villain monologue. “Do you think the Cheese Marketing Board really controls the dairy market? There are bigger players, Suraya. Older players. And we’re even not in the fucking EU any more, I can do what I want!”
Suraya shrugged. “Save it for the judge!” If she’d had a tenner for every tedious threat she’d had to listen to, she’d be lying on a beach on a tropical island that had never even fucking heard of cheese. Her idea of paradise.
Witty sidestepped quickly, producing a cheese-wire garrotte from her belt. She lashed out aiming for Suraya’s neck.
Suraya pressed the largest button and offered a silent prayer to the Blessed Maker of all Dairy Products. A crackle, a flare and for once, the lazy bastards in R&D earned their money as Professor Witty crumpled to the floor, twitching like a pair of wetsocks threatened with a washing machine.
Suraya snapped a pair of shiny handcuffs onto the woman’s wrists. “Congratulations, Professor. You’ve just learnt that investments can go down as well as up.”
SAY HELLO TO OSSIE OCELOT!
Well done if you got this far!! If you did, your needy (and hard-working) editors would absolutely love to hear from you! We thought to celebrate reaching the end of the cheese story that what we really needed was the not-so-mythical Cheese Ocelot that will no doubt be interviewed soon by David Attenborough, who once did some filming in the entrance to Goatchurch ably assisted by two UBSS members! And an overly-large film crew, none of whom wanted to carry a fire extinguisher up the valley. And as we were only there to make sure they didn't damage the cave, it certainly wasn't our job.
Anyway, thanks to all the lovely people who dropped us a line last time! If you'd like your name to be recorded for posterity, click the blue link at the end and let's hear from you!
- Fun newsletter - looking forward to the next one. [Stu Walker]
- Probably the best issue of any caving newsletter I've ever read! [Dan Rose]
- Excellent accounts of trips. And waaaaah! I want bread and cheese in France … [Sharon Wheeler and the now slightly peckish FT Bear]
- Wow, that was a corker of a newsletter! Fab trip reports (even with the quantity of ‘oopses’ included), and kudos to Jess and Co for rescuing Jean Lézard! [Jan Walker]
- I loved the rescue of Jean - well done and great team work! The report of the further exploration of Tras la Layada brought back memories of my trip with LUSS to Tresviso in 1979. Picos de Europa is a fabulous area, and not only for the caves. [Hans Friederich]
- I look forward to the account of the PSM through-trip. The year after our damp experience at the bottom of the PSM we (ULSA and me) applied to ARSIP for permission to do the first trip from the BEC’s new top entrance to the bottom of the Puits Parment and out via the tunnel. We were refused. Shortly afterwards, a French team did it. I was very grumpy but in retrospect I suppose it was fair enough, after all it is their cave. [Dick Willis]
Hello Ossie! Can we snack on some cheese together?
THE END
Well done if you got this far!! If you did, your needy (and hard-working) editors would absolutely love to hear from you! We thought to celebrate reaching the end of the cheese story that what we really needed was the not-so-mythical Cheese Ocelot that will no doubt be interviewed soon by David Attenborough, who once did some filming in the entrance to Goatchurch ably assisted by two UBSS members! And an overly-large film crew, none of whom wanted to carry a fire extinguisher up the valley. And as we were only there to make sure they didn't damage the cave, it certainly wasn't our job.
Anyway, thanks to all the lovely people who dropped us a line last time! If you'd like your name to be recorded for posterity, click the blue link at the end and let's hear from you!
- Fun newsletter - looking forward to the next one. [Stu Walker]
- Probably the best issue of any caving newsletter I've ever read! [Dan Rose]
- Excellent accounts of trips. And waaaaah! I want bread and cheese in France … [Sharon Wheeler and the now slightly peckish FT Bear]
- Wow, that was a corker of a newsletter! Fab trip reports (even with the quantity of ‘oopses’ included), and kudos to Jess and Co for rescuing Jean Lézard! [Jan Walker]
- I loved the rescue of Jean - well done and great team work! The report of the further exploration of Tras la Layada brought back memories of my trip with LUSS to Tresviso in 1979. Picos de Europa is a fabulous area, and not only for the caves. [Hans Friederich]
- I look forward to the account of the PSM through-trip. The year after our damp experience at the bottom of the PSM we (ULSA and me) applied to ARSIP for permission to do the first trip from the BEC’s new top entrance to the bottom of the Puits Parment and out via the tunnel. We were refused. Shortly afterwards, a French team did it. I was very grumpy but in retrospect I suppose it was fair enough, after all it is their cave. [Dick Willis]
Hello Ossie! Can we snack on some cheese together?
THE END