INTERNATIONAL WOMEN'S DAY 2026!
“Nearly everything I know about love, I've learnt from my long-term friendships with women.”
Dolly Alderton, Everything I Know About Love.
In honour of International Women’s Day, and all the amazing, sexy women and gender diverse cavers in UBSS and the caving community, we bring you this special edition newsletter, celebrating the diversity of our club - from tales of love to adventures on expo, old and new.
FOREVER EQUAL
Left: Molly Hall (centre); Right: Dina Dobson.
It’s our proud – and 100% accurate boast – that UBSS was the first caving society in the country to admit women as members on the same terms as men. And remember that our beloved Hut started life as a women’s sports pavilion in Bower Ashton, Bristol. In honour of International Women's Day, Linda Wilson delves back into our history.
Initially, women were allowed exclusive use of the Hut one weekend in three, and they supplemented this by staying in local cottages. From 1929, the women started sleeping in bell tents near the gate or in the woods behind the Hut, then in 1954 Herbert Taylor donated a caravan for their use. Remember that in 1919 the age of majority was 21, not 18, and so the university stood in loco parentis to all students, which did somewhat complicate the sleeping arrangements as can be seen from this. More permanent accommodation came about in 1960 when a smaller, separate Hut, known then as the Women’s Quarters, was built.
So what do we know about our pioneering women members? Well, the society’s first two treasurers were women. Miss N Richards, followed by Miss D.E. Crellin. Sadly, we know nothing more about them than their names.
An early photo by H Taylor shows two women excavating in Read’s Cavern, Burrington in 1923 or 1923. From left to right: Miss KM Willmore, F Langford, Miss M Thorburn, with the names given as they originally appeared. Another photo of that era shows a lunch outside at the Hut including Miss K M Willmore, Miss N Richards, Miss Czaplicka, Mrs Dina P Dobson and Miss D Crellin.
In the early 1920s, Herbert Balch thought it was worthy of note that three UBSS women took part in a visit to Eastwater Cavern and we know that Dina Dobson was the first woman to bottom Eastwater and also in the '20s she the first woman to descend the 40ft Pitch in Swildon’s Hole. She was pregnant at the time.
Stills captured from the Lamb Leer film made in 1936, Left and middle identified as Molly Hall. The woman on the right is listed a unidentified, but bears a strong resemblance to Molly.
Another woman, Molly Hall, appeared in the early UBSS cine films. I was delighted to meet Molly in the early 1990s and she came to the opening of our current library and museum in 1993. She was a delightful woman whose eyes still sparkled with the same gamine mischief so evident in the films. Another female caver and archaeologist from that era was Marjorie Crook, and her great-granddaughter Lauren Manton is a member today. In 2019 Marjorie’s helmet was donated to the UBSS museum by Marjorie's granddaughter Sophie.
In 2019, our centenary year, UBSS elected its first female president, Elaine Oliver. The following year saw the election of Mia Jacobs as our first female student president, following the establishment of that position to align with the SU’s terminology. Before that, UBSS had always elected two Hon. Secretaries, with one of these fulfilling the role now held by the student president and over the years, many women held one or both of those two posts.
I would love to know more about our pioneering women, so if anyone fancies an interesting history project, there’s plenty of work to be done …
Left: Molly Hall (centre); Right: Dina Dobson.
It’s our proud – and 100% accurate boast – that UBSS was the first caving society in the country to admit women as members on the same terms as men. And remember that our beloved Hut started life as a women’s sports pavilion in Bower Ashton, Bristol. In honour of International Women's Day, Linda Wilson delves back into our history.
Initially, women were allowed exclusive use of the Hut one weekend in three, and they supplemented this by staying in local cottages. From 1929, the women started sleeping in bell tents near the gate or in the woods behind the Hut, then in 1954 Herbert Taylor donated a caravan for their use. Remember that in 1919 the age of majority was 21, not 18, and so the university stood in loco parentis to all students, which did somewhat complicate the sleeping arrangements as can be seen from this. More permanent accommodation came about in 1960 when a smaller, separate Hut, known then as the Women’s Quarters, was built.
So what do we know about our pioneering women members? Well, the society’s first two treasurers were women. Miss N Richards, followed by Miss D.E. Crellin. Sadly, we know nothing more about them than their names.
An early photo by H Taylor shows two women excavating in Read’s Cavern, Burrington in 1923 or 1923. From left to right: Miss KM Willmore, F Langford, Miss M Thorburn, with the names given as they originally appeared. Another photo of that era shows a lunch outside at the Hut including Miss K M Willmore, Miss N Richards, Miss Czaplicka, Mrs Dina P Dobson and Miss D Crellin.
In the early 1920s, Herbert Balch thought it was worthy of note that three UBSS women took part in a visit to Eastwater Cavern and we know that Dina Dobson was the first woman to bottom Eastwater and also in the '20s she the first woman to descend the 40ft Pitch in Swildon’s Hole. She was pregnant at the time.
Stills captured from the Lamb Leer film made in 1936, Left and middle identified as Molly Hall. The woman on the right is listed a unidentified, but bears a strong resemblance to Molly.
Another woman, Molly Hall, appeared in the early UBSS cine films. I was delighted to meet Molly in the early 1990s and she came to the opening of our current library and museum in 1993. She was a delightful woman whose eyes still sparkled with the same gamine mischief so evident in the films. Another female caver and archaeologist from that era was Marjorie Crook, and her great-granddaughter Lauren Manton is a member today. In 2019 Marjorie’s helmet was donated to the UBSS museum by Marjorie's granddaughter Sophie.
In 2019, our centenary year, UBSS elected its first female president, Elaine Oliver. The following year saw the election of Mia Jacobs as our first female student president, following the establishment of that position to align with the SU’s terminology. Before that, UBSS had always elected two Hon. Secretaries, with one of these fulfilling the role now held by the student president and over the years, many women held one or both of those two posts.
I would love to know more about our pioneering women, so if anyone fancies an interesting history project, there’s plenty of work to be done …
Linda Wilson
A LOVE LETTER TO THE S.G.C.B
Grace Smith celebrates the Sexy Girls’ Caving Brigade and pays tribute to all amazing women she’s come to know and love since joining UBSS.
What does “feeling sexy” mean when you’re 200 metres underground?
I was told as a fresher, by a well-experienced caver, that I wouldn’t be as strong as the other cavers. Unfortunately for you, you’re female.” I nodded, smiled and carried on practicing my knots. What a knob.
Being a woman in caving is something I could never trade. Yes, there are sometimes unsolicited help on climbs and impressed remarks on how well you’re carrying the tackle sack- alongside your boyfriend, who you’re just as competent as- because you are a “female caver”. But woven throughout is: The girls.
(I am going to try not to sound cringe now but bear with me). When I was a fresher, I found a group of girls in UBSS, and I cannot find the words for how lucky I am. They have become my everything. From bossing deviations, to training literally everyone SRT, to rigging on expo- ultimately, they are the sexiest people on the planet. They have been my favourite thing and experience about being a woman in caving (apart from the caving). They make me feel confident, will do my makeup with me and cheer me on when I’m feeling shit. No performance, no competition, just sexy girls caving.
And now, we have more girlies and gender diverse cavers- in UBSS and within the caving community itself joining the club. I’m meeting more alumni, freshers and everyone in between and it has been a joy. More sexy girls, more diversity. The people I’ve met and fallen in love with have built a community for me in Bristol. On top of that? I get to cave with them.
“Unfortunately for you,” my arse.
(P.S. keep your eyes peeled for the next Sexy Girls Caving Brigade photoshoot; incoming soon.)
Grace Smith
Grace Smith celebrates the Sexy Girls’ Caving Brigade and pays tribute to all amazing women she’s come to know and love since joining UBSS.
What does “feeling sexy” mean when you’re 200 metres underground?
I was told as a fresher, by a well-experienced caver, that I wouldn’t be as strong as the other cavers. Unfortunately for you, you’re female.” I nodded, smiled and carried on practicing my knots. What a knob.
Being a woman in caving is something I could never trade. Yes, there are sometimes unsolicited help on climbs and impressed remarks on how well you’re carrying the tackle sack- alongside your boyfriend, who you’re just as competent as- because you are a “female caver”. But woven throughout is: The girls.
(I am going to try not to sound cringe now but bear with me). When I was a fresher, I found a group of girls in UBSS, and I cannot find the words for how lucky I am. They have become my everything. From bossing deviations, to training literally everyone SRT, to rigging on expo- ultimately, they are the sexiest people on the planet. They have been my favourite thing and experience about being a woman in caving (apart from the caving). They make me feel confident, will do my makeup with me and cheer me on when I’m feeling shit. No performance, no competition, just sexy girls caving.
And now, we have more girlies and gender diverse cavers- in UBSS and within the caving community itself joining the club. I’m meeting more alumni, freshers and everyone in between and it has been a joy. More sexy girls, more diversity. The people I’ve met and fallen in love with have built a community for me in Bristol. On top of that? I get to cave with them.
“Unfortunately for you,” my arse.
(P.S. keep your eyes peeled for the next Sexy Girls Caving Brigade photoshoot; incoming soon.)
Grace Smith
THE PINK GLOVES OF LOVE
Joshitha's first hut weekend. Left to right: Jess Brock, Joshitha, Megan Malpas, Imogen Clements.
In her second year at university, our current Hon. Secretary, Joshitha Sivakumar, wanted tro try something a little outside her comfort zone. With the worrld as her oyster, what did she do?
I found myself at the fresher’s fair, wandering around trying to find the right society. The Expedition Society did catch my eye — walks, climbs, hikes… sounded good. Climbing? Cool gear and sexy views, I suppose. Dance? Why not? I had done dancing growing up.
I thought I had it figured out when someone stopped and asked me, “Do you fancy going down wet, tight, dark spaces?” while handing me a flyer (that I still have). This woman, who I now consider my sister, has taught me so much about caving, life, and love and that's how I met Jess Brock.
I remember going down my second cave on Freshers' Weekend and being too tired at the bottom because I hadn’t had breakfast. Jess and Felix had to push me out of the slide in Goatchurch, so yeah I had my classic fresher moment. Jess had really seen me start from ground zero. She's always done so much for the club.
I met Emily Wormleighton on Bonfire Night of my second year at UBSS. She looked hungover, and I said, “Do you want to share a tent and put it up together?” We went down Lionel’s Hole with Elaine Oliver and Sioned Haughton, which I promised Emily was a fantastic trip (I had not seen the survey nor had I done this trip before). We came out of that all happy, and now I can’t remember many trips I do without her.
Grace now came into the picture. I don’t think we spoke much at the start, but I remember she got me a pair of beautiful pink washing up gloves for my birthday and I just fell in love.
I always learn something from each of these women, and they have become such an integral part of my life.
Joshitha's first hut weekend. Left to right: Jess Brock, Joshitha, Megan Malpas, Imogen Clements.
In her second year at university, our current Hon. Secretary, Joshitha Sivakumar, wanted tro try something a little outside her comfort zone. With the worrld as her oyster, what did she do?
I found myself at the fresher’s fair, wandering around trying to find the right society. The Expedition Society did catch my eye — walks, climbs, hikes… sounded good. Climbing? Cool gear and sexy views, I suppose. Dance? Why not? I had done dancing growing up.
I thought I had it figured out when someone stopped and asked me, “Do you fancy going down wet, tight, dark spaces?” while handing me a flyer (that I still have). This woman, who I now consider my sister, has taught me so much about caving, life, and love and that's how I met Jess Brock.
I remember going down my second cave on Freshers' Weekend and being too tired at the bottom because I hadn’t had breakfast. Jess and Felix had to push me out of the slide in Goatchurch, so yeah I had my classic fresher moment. Jess had really seen me start from ground zero. She's always done so much for the club.
I met Emily Wormleighton on Bonfire Night of my second year at UBSS. She looked hungover, and I said, “Do you want to share a tent and put it up together?” We went down Lionel’s Hole with Elaine Oliver and Sioned Haughton, which I promised Emily was a fantastic trip (I had not seen the survey nor had I done this trip before). We came out of that all happy, and now I can’t remember many trips I do without her.
Grace now came into the picture. I don’t think we spoke much at the start, but I remember she got me a pair of beautiful pink washing up gloves for my birthday and I just fell in love.
I always learn something from each of these women, and they have become such an integral part of my life.
Joshitha Sivakumar
EMILY IN THE BAT HOUSE
Emily, preparing to face her worst nightmares.
They’re small, they’re furry, they’re protected by law and Emily Wormleighton knows they’ve got it in for her …
‘Perpetually in the bat-house’ is a phrase Billy Evans created about an hour ago on the phone to describe my predicament. It is a good summary of this story if you do not want to read further.
Today’s write-up was meant to be of a girls’ Saturday night-out to Mangle Hole. Instead, this is being written on said Saturday night from the comfort of my bed- so you may guess the trip was not exactly a success. I am looking to share my problems (I’ve heard somewhere that can help) and get some friendly advice.
Chapter 1: The Unsettling
To really explain my feelings, I must explain my past traumas.
Cast your minds back. Joe Bidie, Stanley Lewis, Billy Evans and I headed to Rhino Rift for a ‘seamless’ trip underground which was never mentioned again…
On my way out I decided not to wait for anyone at the top and to instead wait outside. With an unknown Wessex member behind me, the crawl out became rather tight. I expect that those with a more focussed eye than mine may have even questioned this, for example the Wessex member I found myself with who did in fact question this hole I had led him down.
Never mind, on we went. On my way I encountered a bat. I lay face to face with it, contemplating how I could even fit past. So, it began. It seemed to scowl at me, just 30cm away. I slipped out backwards as quickly as I could. Needless to say, I had gone the wrong way anyway.
Chapter 2: The Terror
Months later…
Whilst we wait for Jess Brock to collect the key for our ‘reservation’ at Spider Hole, Grace Smith and I decided to make the most of what Cheddar has to offer and got ourselves a cheese and onion pasty, where we also discovered a fascinating, mindboggling toy they make and sell there. We then got our photos taken by Joshitha Sivakumar in front of the inspiring sculptures (see picture). Back to the car, the heavens opened just in time to get changed.
Crawling to the entrance gate, the name Spider Hole really strikes a chord. Perhaps not such a good one for Joshitha. It’s a shame to admit that comforting someone else’s fear, one that you do not share, can really do secret wonders for your ego.
As Jess then Joshitha slipped through the gate and down the chimney climb, a spot of bat bother was encountered. There were about 4-5 sleeping soundly in the ceiling of the small space where your head needs to go. Behind my eyelids I see the screwed-up scowl of that bat seemingly staring at me those months ago. Panic sets in. I admit that I am debating defeat.
‘I bet Grace is loving this’ I think. I turn to her and naturally she is having a giggle.
Thirty minutes later and Grace’s ego is the healthiest it’s ever been. The more I tentatively peer into the hole, I consider my fate deeply. I feel like screaming.
I resorted to asking Jess if she would be so kind as to escort me down the climb (as my human shield). Listening to her ongoing bat forecast for the way on I managed to at last slip myself into the entrance. Down the chimney climb only a metre or so before hell is realised.
‘Mmmmmmmmmkay so there’s just by your leg now.’ Jess says calmy.
Frozen in the enclosed tube we are descending, I feel the dread. Horror.
At least we got to pose as buckets (see above).
Chapter 3: The Escape
Another evening trip later…
Dan Rose and I stared at Mendip Underground in silence outside stores.
‘Do you want to do Mangle Hole?’
‘I really don’t mind.’
Another aimless flick through the book.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well I don’t mind what we do, it’s really up to you.’
‘I don’t knowwwwww.’
Other than bats, indecision is the other plague to my existence.
The mystery of an unknown Burrington cave called us so we set ourselves on Drunkard’s Hole and sped off with a series of questionable steering decisions, and Mowgli Palmer.
As we entered the cave- the new and yet inevitable thought came.
‘Oh Dan, by the way, if you see any bats can you just let me know.’ I thought some mental preparation for what I was to encounter was clever.
As always Dan was more than happy to comply.
A very short way down the entrance, ‘Okay so I can see a couple bats.’
‘Are they in the way a lot?’
‘I mean they’re in a crawl so you would have to go near them… Okay there’s actually quite a few.’
‘And you have to crawl under close to them?’
‘Yeah.’
Absolutely not no thank you.
Dan said the number of bats in the crawl was actually ‘comical’ for someone concerned about going past them. We wandered over to Bath Swallet, where from the bottom of the pitch Mowgli informed us that we would need another ladder for the second pitch he seemed to have discovered…
Chapter 4: The Swarm
Today: a Saturday night Mangle Hole trip.
Life could be a dream. Joshitha, Jess and I found the cave instantly, easy-peasy. Jess began rigging the backup on the tree meanwhile Joshitha and I peered into the hole. By the time just the backup was rigged, I have seen three or four large bats within the small entrance rift. I voiced my now infamous bat concerns. We watched Jess descend without trouble and her bat forecast didn’t sound too troubling: a few to the side, fast asleep. Once she had disappeared, rigging away below, Joshitha and I continued to stare down the hole. When ‘Rope-free’ came it felt like the bells of doom. I had already resigned myself to failure at this point without any chance of a peaceful bat encounter in sight.
Joshitha was not decided. Each time she edged forwards, we were again startled. I even had to resort to art to deal with my fear: I sculpted a little mud bat with green leaf wings and lovely little twig ears (apologies for no picture).
Eventually, it is another fail. Joshitha is not up to it (quite right I think) and Jess comes back up.
We are going climbing tomorrow.
Emily, preparing to face her worst nightmares.
They’re small, they’re furry, they’re protected by law and Emily Wormleighton knows they’ve got it in for her …
‘Perpetually in the bat-house’ is a phrase Billy Evans created about an hour ago on the phone to describe my predicament. It is a good summary of this story if you do not want to read further.
Today’s write-up was meant to be of a girls’ Saturday night-out to Mangle Hole. Instead, this is being written on said Saturday night from the comfort of my bed- so you may guess the trip was not exactly a success. I am looking to share my problems (I’ve heard somewhere that can help) and get some friendly advice.
Chapter 1: The Unsettling
To really explain my feelings, I must explain my past traumas.
Cast your minds back. Joe Bidie, Stanley Lewis, Billy Evans and I headed to Rhino Rift for a ‘seamless’ trip underground which was never mentioned again…
On my way out I decided not to wait for anyone at the top and to instead wait outside. With an unknown Wessex member behind me, the crawl out became rather tight. I expect that those with a more focussed eye than mine may have even questioned this, for example the Wessex member I found myself with who did in fact question this hole I had led him down.
Never mind, on we went. On my way I encountered a bat. I lay face to face with it, contemplating how I could even fit past. So, it began. It seemed to scowl at me, just 30cm away. I slipped out backwards as quickly as I could. Needless to say, I had gone the wrong way anyway.
Chapter 2: The Terror
Months later…
Whilst we wait for Jess Brock to collect the key for our ‘reservation’ at Spider Hole, Grace Smith and I decided to make the most of what Cheddar has to offer and got ourselves a cheese and onion pasty, where we also discovered a fascinating, mindboggling toy they make and sell there. We then got our photos taken by Joshitha Sivakumar in front of the inspiring sculptures (see picture). Back to the car, the heavens opened just in time to get changed.
Crawling to the entrance gate, the name Spider Hole really strikes a chord. Perhaps not such a good one for Joshitha. It’s a shame to admit that comforting someone else’s fear, one that you do not share, can really do secret wonders for your ego.
As Jess then Joshitha slipped through the gate and down the chimney climb, a spot of bat bother was encountered. There were about 4-5 sleeping soundly in the ceiling of the small space where your head needs to go. Behind my eyelids I see the screwed-up scowl of that bat seemingly staring at me those months ago. Panic sets in. I admit that I am debating defeat.
‘I bet Grace is loving this’ I think. I turn to her and naturally she is having a giggle.
Thirty minutes later and Grace’s ego is the healthiest it’s ever been. The more I tentatively peer into the hole, I consider my fate deeply. I feel like screaming.
I resorted to asking Jess if she would be so kind as to escort me down the climb (as my human shield). Listening to her ongoing bat forecast for the way on I managed to at last slip myself into the entrance. Down the chimney climb only a metre or so before hell is realised.
‘Mmmmmmmmmkay so there’s just by your leg now.’ Jess says calmy.
Frozen in the enclosed tube we are descending, I feel the dread. Horror.
At least we got to pose as buckets (see above).
Chapter 3: The Escape
Another evening trip later…
Dan Rose and I stared at Mendip Underground in silence outside stores.
‘Do you want to do Mangle Hole?’
‘I really don’t mind.’
Another aimless flick through the book.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well I don’t mind what we do, it’s really up to you.’
‘I don’t knowwwwww.’
Other than bats, indecision is the other plague to my existence.
The mystery of an unknown Burrington cave called us so we set ourselves on Drunkard’s Hole and sped off with a series of questionable steering decisions, and Mowgli Palmer.
As we entered the cave- the new and yet inevitable thought came.
‘Oh Dan, by the way, if you see any bats can you just let me know.’ I thought some mental preparation for what I was to encounter was clever.
As always Dan was more than happy to comply.
A very short way down the entrance, ‘Okay so I can see a couple bats.’
‘Are they in the way a lot?’
‘I mean they’re in a crawl so you would have to go near them… Okay there’s actually quite a few.’
‘And you have to crawl under close to them?’
‘Yeah.’
Absolutely not no thank you.
Dan said the number of bats in the crawl was actually ‘comical’ for someone concerned about going past them. We wandered over to Bath Swallet, where from the bottom of the pitch Mowgli informed us that we would need another ladder for the second pitch he seemed to have discovered…
Chapter 4: The Swarm
Today: a Saturday night Mangle Hole trip.
Life could be a dream. Joshitha, Jess and I found the cave instantly, easy-peasy. Jess began rigging the backup on the tree meanwhile Joshitha and I peered into the hole. By the time just the backup was rigged, I have seen three or four large bats within the small entrance rift. I voiced my now infamous bat concerns. We watched Jess descend without trouble and her bat forecast didn’t sound too troubling: a few to the side, fast asleep. Once she had disappeared, rigging away below, Joshitha and I continued to stare down the hole. When ‘Rope-free’ came it felt like the bells of doom. I had already resigned myself to failure at this point without any chance of a peaceful bat encounter in sight.
Joshitha was not decided. Each time she edged forwards, we were again startled. I even had to resort to art to deal with my fear: I sculpted a little mud bat with green leaf wings and lovely little twig ears (apologies for no picture).
Eventually, it is another fail. Joshitha is not up to it (quite right I think) and Jess comes back up.
We are going climbing tomorrow.
Emily Wormleighton
NEW TO CAVING
Left: Tess Hopes and Poly Judd. Middle: Tess Hopes. Left: Tess Hopes, Ned and Laura Hope.
For new member Tess Hopes, one of the things that stands out about caving and the club is the people ..
I only started caving in September, so I am still very new to the sport. However, in the short time I have been doing it, one of the things that has stood out most to me is the people, especially the number of skilled women in the community.
Before I started, I wasn’t sure what the dynamic would be like. In many sports there can be a strong focus on gender, but that hasn’t been my experience in caving. Once you are underground, it does not feel like a space led by women or by men. Instead, it simply feels like a space led by cavers.
As someone new to the sport, I spend a lot of time watching and learning from the people around me. Seeing women confidently moving through awkward passages, rigging pitches, and sharing their knowledge has been very encouraging.
One of my early trips still stands out to me: standing at the top of a pitch and watching someone rig the ropes while explaining what they were doing. They made something that looked complicated feel calm and manageable, while also encouraging me to keep learning and improving.
What I have appreciated most, though, is how welcome I have felt. I have never felt dismissed or underestimated. People do not see me as a woman in caving, but simply as another caver who is learning.
For someone starting out, that kind of support makes a real difference.
Left: Tess Hopes and Poly Judd. Middle: Tess Hopes. Left: Tess Hopes, Ned and Laura Hope.
For new member Tess Hopes, one of the things that stands out about caving and the club is the people ..
I only started caving in September, so I am still very new to the sport. However, in the short time I have been doing it, one of the things that has stood out most to me is the people, especially the number of skilled women in the community.
Before I started, I wasn’t sure what the dynamic would be like. In many sports there can be a strong focus on gender, but that hasn’t been my experience in caving. Once you are underground, it does not feel like a space led by women or by men. Instead, it simply feels like a space led by cavers.
As someone new to the sport, I spend a lot of time watching and learning from the people around me. Seeing women confidently moving through awkward passages, rigging pitches, and sharing their knowledge has been very encouraging.
One of my early trips still stands out to me: standing at the top of a pitch and watching someone rig the ropes while explaining what they were doing. They made something that looked complicated feel calm and manageable, while also encouraging me to keep learning and improving.
What I have appreciated most, though, is how welcome I have felt. I have never felt dismissed or underestimated. People do not see me as a woman in caving, but simply as another caver who is learning.
For someone starting out, that kind of support makes a real difference.
Tess Hopes
A WALK ON THE WILD SIDE
One of the traverses above the River Axe. Jan Walker in the blue boiler suit.
As part of the Centenary celebrations, UBSS member Chris Binding kindly offered to organise a trip to some of the parts of Wookey Hole that the visitors don't normally see. Jan Walker talks about the trip...
The Wild Wookey Adventure tour was an amazing experience. Climbing, abseiling, scrambling through tight squeezes, it had everything. We were hooked to safety ropes for the entire tour, so there was never any danger of injury. Wookey provided all of the equipment required (except the wellies), made sure everything fitted, and demonstrated how to use the kit. Chris Binding, who ran the tour, had everything under control at all times. Even those of us who were older and hadn't caved much felt completely confident in his leadership.
We started with a safety show and equipment demo, changed into our boiler suits, then headed for the cave. We scrambled up and over the usual entrance, then worked our way into the cave. Each time we made it through a particularly strenuous area, Chris let us rest as he told us some great snippets of information about the cave. The things that stand out for me are, of course, the most active bits: the abseiling (yes, we dropped down a long way! Twice!); when we worked our way along a wall around an underground lake, standing on metal bolted to the wall and clinging to the ropes; crossing over a moving metal bridge that was hanging from the roof; and the end bit, where we were able to take a ride on a zip-line from the exit high on the cliff down to the ground. I was a bit stiff the next day, but I fully intend to do it again!
From left to right: Ruth Briggs, Alice Whale, Julian Walford, Mike Taverne, James Rossington, Jan Walker and Carol Walford.
[This article first appeared in the April 2019 newsletter]
One of the traverses above the River Axe. Jan Walker in the blue boiler suit.
As part of the Centenary celebrations, UBSS member Chris Binding kindly offered to organise a trip to some of the parts of Wookey Hole that the visitors don't normally see. Jan Walker talks about the trip...
The Wild Wookey Adventure tour was an amazing experience. Climbing, abseiling, scrambling through tight squeezes, it had everything. We were hooked to safety ropes for the entire tour, so there was never any danger of injury. Wookey provided all of the equipment required (except the wellies), made sure everything fitted, and demonstrated how to use the kit. Chris Binding, who ran the tour, had everything under control at all times. Even those of us who were older and hadn't caved much felt completely confident in his leadership.
We started with a safety show and equipment demo, changed into our boiler suits, then headed for the cave. We scrambled up and over the usual entrance, then worked our way into the cave. Each time we made it through a particularly strenuous area, Chris let us rest as he told us some great snippets of information about the cave. The things that stand out for me are, of course, the most active bits: the abseiling (yes, we dropped down a long way! Twice!); when we worked our way along a wall around an underground lake, standing on metal bolted to the wall and clinging to the ropes; crossing over a moving metal bridge that was hanging from the roof; and the end bit, where we were able to take a ride on a zip-line from the exit high on the cliff down to the ground. I was a bit stiff the next day, but I fully intend to do it again!
From left to right: Ruth Briggs, Alice Whale, Julian Walford, Mike Taverne, James Rossington, Jan Walker and Carol Walford.
[This article first appeared in the April 2019 newsletter]
100 MEMORIES - Romance UBSS Style
I arrived at Bristol in 1968, and promptly joined UBSS having established at Freshers that women were welcome. The two lads manning the UBSS stand were very clear on that point! I never looked back, and in fact still cave occasionally today. A handful of other freshers also stayed the course, and for the rest of the year we caved together, mainly on Mendip but also occasionally in the Dales.
The following year, Julian arrived. When he first appeared in the Speleo Rooms, the second year ladies eyed up the fresh talent and agreed he was “very pretty but a bit young”. So none of us pounced. I carried on caving with my first year friends, and Julian got into cave diving. My first trip with him was probably a bottle carry down to Little Neath River Cave Sump 2.
By the end of Julian’s third year, we had progressed to light-hearted flirting, particularly when alcohol was involved. We finally got together, as they say, on the second Freshers weekend of 1972 – we went to a party, spent the evening dancing together, and have been with each other ever since.
We moved to Leicestershire in the autumn of 1972, and remained there for a couple of years. During this time, we packed in lots of potholing in the Dales with UBSS friends. And occasionally on our own – most notably doing a two person trip to the bottom of Penyghent Pot on ladder with no lifelines.
Then Julian was offered a job at Dounreay in Caithness, where he’d grown up and where his parents still lived. We thought Thurso would be fun place to live for a couple of years (and the nuclear job would look good on his CV). But we didn’t think it would be fair to his parents to live in sin under their noses, as his mother was very much a pillar of the small local community. So we decided the only way it could work would be for us to marry. Romantic or what …?
I was sufficiently romantic to want a proper proposal, and Julian insisted that this could only be done at LNRC Sump 2. So off we went to rural Wales, only to find the Neath River in spate, and Flood Entrance almost under water. So the proposal was made and accepted in caving gear, in the pouring rain, on the river bank opposite the entrance. We married six weeks later (and, no, I wasn’t pregnant).
Carol Walford caving in Fermanagh in 1975.
Did you 'marry in' or 'marry out'? That's a question often asked in context of the club, meaning did you marry/hook up with your partner through it or outside it. Carol Walford 'married in', and tells the story of how very restrained she was when a young, pretty fresher called Julian arrived in Bristol...I arrived at Bristol in 1968, and promptly joined UBSS having established at Freshers that women were welcome. The two lads manning the UBSS stand were very clear on that point! I never looked back, and in fact still cave occasionally today. A handful of other freshers also stayed the course, and for the rest of the year we caved together, mainly on Mendip but also occasionally in the Dales.
The following year, Julian arrived. When he first appeared in the Speleo Rooms, the second year ladies eyed up the fresh talent and agreed he was “very pretty but a bit young”. So none of us pounced. I carried on caving with my first year friends, and Julian got into cave diving. My first trip with him was probably a bottle carry down to Little Neath River Cave Sump 2.
By the end of Julian’s third year, we had progressed to light-hearted flirting, particularly when alcohol was involved. We finally got together, as they say, on the second Freshers weekend of 1972 – we went to a party, spent the evening dancing together, and have been with each other ever since.
We moved to Leicestershire in the autumn of 1972, and remained there for a couple of years. During this time, we packed in lots of potholing in the Dales with UBSS friends. And occasionally on our own – most notably doing a two person trip to the bottom of Penyghent Pot on ladder with no lifelines.
Then Julian was offered a job at Dounreay in Caithness, where he’d grown up and where his parents still lived. We thought Thurso would be fun place to live for a couple of years (and the nuclear job would look good on his CV). But we didn’t think it would be fair to his parents to live in sin under their noses, as his mother was very much a pillar of the small local community. So we decided the only way it could work would be for us to marry. Romantic or what …?
I was sufficiently romantic to want a proper proposal, and Julian insisted that this could only be done at LNRC Sump 2. So off we went to rural Wales, only to find the Neath River in spate, and Flood Entrance almost under water. So the proposal was made and accepted in caving gear, in the pouring rain, on the river bank opposite the entrance. We married six weeks later (and, no, I wasn’t pregnant).
Carol Walford
[This article frst appreared in the April 2020 newsletter]
BOOTED - More Romance, UBSS Style
Linda Wilson in St Cuthbert's Swallet, 1982. Photos by Peter Glanvill. Left, Catgut Rift. Right, Rabbit Warren Extensions.
Linda Wilson arrived in Bristol in the autumn of 1979, already intending to seek out the caving club. She wasn't expecting romance coupled with a pair of old, worn out boots ...
I’d spent, or rather misspent much of my childhood trying to emulate my grandfather who was involved in the discovery and exploration of White Scar Cave near Ingleton. Show caves were a staple of school trips in the ‘60s and ’70s and I’d also spent time trying to emulate Enid Blyton’s adventurous kids by finding and exploring holes in the ground on Alderley Edge in Cheshire, where my dad would let my best friend and I run feral for the day.
So, in my first week in Bristol, I wandered up to the UBSS freshers' stall in the Richmond Building where cavers were busily going up and down ropes, much like they do today. Kirsten Hopkins (still a good friend to this day) signed me up. I handed over the princely sum of 50p for my membership and was given a list of things I needed for Fresher’s Weekend at the hut. Old clothes. Tick. A sleeping bag. Tick. Boots. Oh shit, I didn’t have wellies and I didn’t have any walking boots. Double shit. Kirsten started to give me directions to the late, much lamented Marcruss Army Surplus Store on Hotwells Road. I must have looked a bit blank (I had a raging sore throat and had been ill for the past two days), but then a bloke called Graham, also on the stall said, “I’ve got a pair of boots you can use.” I said thanks and didn’t even notice he hadn’t even asked how big my feet were.
The morning of the Freshers’ Weekend arrived, and I turned up at the meeting point at the Geography Dept to find that Graham had been true to his word and had sent the boots along with someone for me as he was at work and couldn’t come out until the evening. They were a pair of leather, steel-toe-capped workman’s boots that I later found out he’d found discarded at the edge of a building site. The boots and I survived our first trip, but they didn’t fare quite so well on their second outing – Cwm Dwr to One in flood. On our exit via Lowe’s Chain and the Escape Route, I brace one foot on the opposite wall, as instructed, held the chain and heaved myself over. Sadly, the boot broke apart on the sole, I swung alarmingly and scrabbled up the chain.
I dumped the boots in the bin at the SWCC cottages, where they were rescued by Bob Peat, who declared they were better than his current boots, and he wore them for the next six months! Waste not, want not.
The boots might have only lasted one and a half trips, but the resulting marriage has lasted 45 years.
Linda Wilson in St Cuthbert's Swallet, 1982. Photos by Peter Glanvill. Left, Catgut Rift. Right, Rabbit Warren Extensions.
Linda Wilson arrived in Bristol in the autumn of 1979, already intending to seek out the caving club. She wasn't expecting romance coupled with a pair of old, worn out boots ...
I’d spent, or rather misspent much of my childhood trying to emulate my grandfather who was involved in the discovery and exploration of White Scar Cave near Ingleton. Show caves were a staple of school trips in the ‘60s and ’70s and I’d also spent time trying to emulate Enid Blyton’s adventurous kids by finding and exploring holes in the ground on Alderley Edge in Cheshire, where my dad would let my best friend and I run feral for the day.
So, in my first week in Bristol, I wandered up to the UBSS freshers' stall in the Richmond Building where cavers were busily going up and down ropes, much like they do today. Kirsten Hopkins (still a good friend to this day) signed me up. I handed over the princely sum of 50p for my membership and was given a list of things I needed for Fresher’s Weekend at the hut. Old clothes. Tick. A sleeping bag. Tick. Boots. Oh shit, I didn’t have wellies and I didn’t have any walking boots. Double shit. Kirsten started to give me directions to the late, much lamented Marcruss Army Surplus Store on Hotwells Road. I must have looked a bit blank (I had a raging sore throat and had been ill for the past two days), but then a bloke called Graham, also on the stall said, “I’ve got a pair of boots you can use.” I said thanks and didn’t even notice he hadn’t even asked how big my feet were.
The morning of the Freshers’ Weekend arrived, and I turned up at the meeting point at the Geography Dept to find that Graham had been true to his word and had sent the boots along with someone for me as he was at work and couldn’t come out until the evening. They were a pair of leather, steel-toe-capped workman’s boots that I later found out he’d found discarded at the edge of a building site. The boots and I survived our first trip, but they didn’t fare quite so well on their second outing – Cwm Dwr to One in flood. On our exit via Lowe’s Chain and the Escape Route, I brace one foot on the opposite wall, as instructed, held the chain and heaved myself over. Sadly, the boot broke apart on the sole, I swung alarmingly and scrabbled up the chain.
I dumped the boots in the bin at the SWCC cottages, where they were rescued by Bob Peat, who declared they were better than his current boots, and he wore them for the next six months! Waste not, want not.
The boots might have only lasted one and a half trips, but the resulting marriage has lasted 45 years.
Linda Wilson
THREE CAVES IN THREE DAYS
Charterhouse cave. A rare photo of Jess Brock underground. Rare because she's normally the one behind the camera.
in Dececember 2024, Jess Brock did something of a Mendip marathon. This is her story and deserves a second airing.
DAY 1 – CHARTERHOUSE CAVE
In November, quite unexpectedly, I spent three days in a row caving in the Mendips. Day 1 was a planned evening trip to Charterhouse Cave with Imogen and Andrew. I didn’t quite know what to expect – I had only skimmed the book and enjoyed looking at the pictures. What I was met with was a formation dense cave of surprising verticality. Lugging a tackle sack down 200 metres then back up 200 metres was quite tiring, especially as it got stuck more often than not. I wasn’t daunted by the cave and its winding nature. I only felt tired as a caver should going down, down, down and up, up, up.
Imogen Clement having a great time! Photo by Jess Brock.
The finest part of this interesting cave was at the very bottom where we met The Daggers. Ghostly fingers stretched downwards from its great flowstone height almost touching the uneven rock beneath it.
The Daggers. Photo by Jess Brock.
Crawling with extreme caution we skirted underneath these most excellent formations to the almost end where we decided not to go into the sump and instead started the climb out.
DAY 2- GB
Climb on White Passage/the Loop route. Photo by Jess Brock.
The second cave was GB. Possibly the fourth time I have visited ol’ GB in a month, who knows! I’ve completely lost count! This time I went with my brother and a couple of his friends. As usual Mendip was shrouded in an unending fog. Unmoved by its dominating presence we planned a jolly trip to GB (after my pleas not to go down Swildons). With an infectious spirit I raced down the familiar passages and marvelled at the speed of not caving with freshers. With a wind in my hair we emptied out into the Gorge and my brother and I had the privilege of showing Pete all the sights GB had to offer. It might have been his first time down there (at the very least not for a few years – I could never stay away from GB for that long).
We speedily caved down to the Gorge, over the Bridge, up into White Passage, back down to the small chamber and over to the balcony overlooking the river, chatting all the time. Every once in a while I would ask the boys to stop so I could take at least one photo in focus. Most pictures I take are blurry because there’s no time to stop.
After a little appreciation of the view from the balcony we climbed down to the river. There I watched as Owain athletically up-rigged the climb to the Ladder Dig.
Helectite Grotto. Photo by Jess Brock.
The last time I came up the Ladder Dig there had been so much cold brown water in the start of the crawl I couldn’t bear to poke my head in for a look. This time though there was significantly less water and not wanting to be left behind I quickly crawled through. The low wet crawl emptied out into Helictite Chamber which is one of the most impressive sights in GB I have seen. Every conceivable surface is covered in spiralling helictites. The chamber is frosted with stal.
The grovel out of Helectite Chamber. Photo by Jess Brock.
A small crawl (for them!) came after and being soaked head to toe meant we mostly slipped through. Pete and Owain had to take their helmets off and I certainly felt the rock pressing against me on all sides – it was snug to say the least. An abandoned shovel laid nearby though none of us used it. We didn’t find much afterwards but tight crawling and a small spattering of stal. There we decided to turn back and head to the Hunters’ for a bit of warmth.
DAY 3 – TECHNICAL MASTERPIECE, EASTWATER
Would you want to do this carrying an egg? Photo by Jess Brock.
The third day dawned with a small, tiny, little hangover that should have been cured with some paracetamol and a lie down in a dark room. By the time I got home and had a shower an offer of doing the Technical Masterpiece in Eastwater that evening came through. What else was I to do than say ‘YES’. Unfortunately my skills with filming and owning a fairly indestructible camera left me no choice but to join Dan Rose and Ben Morgan down their beloved Tekky to film them carrying raw eggs down to the bottom without the eggs cracking.
It would have been relatively chill with six eggs in our box until Ben unleashed three on Dan before even entering the cave. I had no idea what the cave would be like other than the fact Dan had practically torn himself to shreds going through it before and that it could easily flood in rainy conditions.
Yes, that's definitely an egg in Dan's hand. Photo by Jess Brock.
I was welcomed with a squeezy, rifty, descending cave where I could easily slip along and post myself through the tight bits. I was trusted to hold the very last egg while Dan attempted his greatest challenge. The cave was laborious and reminded me of Charterhouse Cave in the way it went down, down, down and the thought of having to go back up was a bit daunting as there were some bits I had simply slid down.
Dan Rose enjoying the fruits of his labours. Photo by Jess Brock.
Fair to say I enjoyed my Mars Bar at the bottom while Dan gulped down the egg he’d lovingly carried down the whole way. Satisfied with the filming I put away my camera and began the ascent.
On the way out, the three caves in three days plus a fading hangover left me fighting demons and willing my arms to stop feeling like noodles as I neared the top. Climbing out of the open entrance into the freezing damp air of the night was euphoric, my mind instantly thought about planning my next trip – well until I had got changed and sat down and thought I deserved a well-earned rest.
Charterhouse cave. A rare photo of Jess Brock underground. Rare because she's normally the one behind the camera.
in Dececember 2024, Jess Brock did something of a Mendip marathon. This is her story and deserves a second airing.
DAY 1 – CHARTERHOUSE CAVE
In November, quite unexpectedly, I spent three days in a row caving in the Mendips. Day 1 was a planned evening trip to Charterhouse Cave with Imogen and Andrew. I didn’t quite know what to expect – I had only skimmed the book and enjoyed looking at the pictures. What I was met with was a formation dense cave of surprising verticality. Lugging a tackle sack down 200 metres then back up 200 metres was quite tiring, especially as it got stuck more often than not. I wasn’t daunted by the cave and its winding nature. I only felt tired as a caver should going down, down, down and up, up, up.
Imogen Clement having a great time! Photo by Jess Brock.
The finest part of this interesting cave was at the very bottom where we met The Daggers. Ghostly fingers stretched downwards from its great flowstone height almost touching the uneven rock beneath it.
The Daggers. Photo by Jess Brock.
Crawling with extreme caution we skirted underneath these most excellent formations to the almost end where we decided not to go into the sump and instead started the climb out.
DAY 2- GB
Climb on White Passage/the Loop route. Photo by Jess Brock.
The second cave was GB. Possibly the fourth time I have visited ol’ GB in a month, who knows! I’ve completely lost count! This time I went with my brother and a couple of his friends. As usual Mendip was shrouded in an unending fog. Unmoved by its dominating presence we planned a jolly trip to GB (after my pleas not to go down Swildons). With an infectious spirit I raced down the familiar passages and marvelled at the speed of not caving with freshers. With a wind in my hair we emptied out into the Gorge and my brother and I had the privilege of showing Pete all the sights GB had to offer. It might have been his first time down there (at the very least not for a few years – I could never stay away from GB for that long).
We speedily caved down to the Gorge, over the Bridge, up into White Passage, back down to the small chamber and over to the balcony overlooking the river, chatting all the time. Every once in a while I would ask the boys to stop so I could take at least one photo in focus. Most pictures I take are blurry because there’s no time to stop.
After a little appreciation of the view from the balcony we climbed down to the river. There I watched as Owain athletically up-rigged the climb to the Ladder Dig.
Helectite Grotto. Photo by Jess Brock.
The last time I came up the Ladder Dig there had been so much cold brown water in the start of the crawl I couldn’t bear to poke my head in for a look. This time though there was significantly less water and not wanting to be left behind I quickly crawled through. The low wet crawl emptied out into Helictite Chamber which is one of the most impressive sights in GB I have seen. Every conceivable surface is covered in spiralling helictites. The chamber is frosted with stal.
The grovel out of Helectite Chamber. Photo by Jess Brock.
A small crawl (for them!) came after and being soaked head to toe meant we mostly slipped through. Pete and Owain had to take their helmets off and I certainly felt the rock pressing against me on all sides – it was snug to say the least. An abandoned shovel laid nearby though none of us used it. We didn’t find much afterwards but tight crawling and a small spattering of stal. There we decided to turn back and head to the Hunters’ for a bit of warmth.
DAY 3 – TECHNICAL MASTERPIECE, EASTWATER
Would you want to do this carrying an egg? Photo by Jess Brock.
The third day dawned with a small, tiny, little hangover that should have been cured with some paracetamol and a lie down in a dark room. By the time I got home and had a shower an offer of doing the Technical Masterpiece in Eastwater that evening came through. What else was I to do than say ‘YES’. Unfortunately my skills with filming and owning a fairly indestructible camera left me no choice but to join Dan Rose and Ben Morgan down their beloved Tekky to film them carrying raw eggs down to the bottom without the eggs cracking.
It would have been relatively chill with six eggs in our box until Ben unleashed three on Dan before even entering the cave. I had no idea what the cave would be like other than the fact Dan had practically torn himself to shreds going through it before and that it could easily flood in rainy conditions.
Yes, that's definitely an egg in Dan's hand. Photo by Jess Brock.
I was welcomed with a squeezy, rifty, descending cave where I could easily slip along and post myself through the tight bits. I was trusted to hold the very last egg while Dan attempted his greatest challenge. The cave was laborious and reminded me of Charterhouse Cave in the way it went down, down, down and the thought of having to go back up was a bit daunting as there were some bits I had simply slid down.
Dan Rose enjoying the fruits of his labours. Photo by Jess Brock.
Fair to say I enjoyed my Mars Bar at the bottom while Dan gulped down the egg he’d lovingly carried down the whole way. Satisfied with the filming I put away my camera and began the ascent.
On the way out, the three caves in three days plus a fading hangover left me fighting demons and willing my arms to stop feeling like noodles as I neared the top. Climbing out of the open entrance into the freezing damp air of the night was euphoric, my mind instantly thought about planning my next trip – well until I had got changed and sat down and thought I deserved a well-earned rest.
Jess Brock
[This article first appeared in the December 2024 newsletter.]
DOUBLE BOUNCE AT EASEGILL
Left, Billy Evans in the entrance to Cow Pot. Right, Merryn Matthews in Cow Pot.
Easegill Open House is a new event run by the Red Rose Pothole Club at Bull Pot Farm, where numerous entrances to the Easegill system are rigged for a week. On the first weekend, UBSS members made great use of this by completing various through trips, including a 'double bounce' of Cow Pot to Lancaster Hole as Merryn Matthews explains ...
We had spent the previous evening merrily celebrating the summer solstice by Morris dancing, guided by Billy, our very own expert, and drinking many pints poured by bartender Sioned (thanks for helping with the event!).
Group route finding. Left to right: Jess Brock. Merryn Matthews, Emily Wormleighton, Joshitha Shivkumar.
Despite our evening antics, we were feeling fresh and came up with a plan for me, Lucy Hyde, Jess Brock and Billy Evans to descended Cow Pot, leave Lancaster, then reverse the trip and come out of Cow Pot. Meanwhile, Joshitha, Toby, Emily and Grace would follow us down Cow and explore some side passages on their way out.
Billy Evans practising his modelling skills in Slug World.
We slithered our way down the entrance before reaching the fiddly traverse of the big final pitch. This seemed much easier without rigging it, although still very bold. We zipped down and sped through to Lancaster Hole, where we sang a hilarious mishmash of 'Doline' and showed off some rope walking skills before enjoying a quick break in the surface sunshine.
Grace Smith Looking out to Fall Pot.
Back in the cave it seemed like before we'd blinked we at were at Fall Pot, just in time to watch the other group abseiling down the pitch, to 'It's Raining Men' blasting from a speaker. We had a short disco break inspired by Joshitha's rave mode back-up light before saying goodbye bye to the other group and whizzing out.
Left: Merryn Matthews, Cow Pot. RIght, Jess Brock, Lancaster Hole.
Left, Billy Evans in the entrance to Cow Pot. Right, Merryn Matthews in Cow Pot.
Easegill Open House is a new event run by the Red Rose Pothole Club at Bull Pot Farm, where numerous entrances to the Easegill system are rigged for a week. On the first weekend, UBSS members made great use of this by completing various through trips, including a 'double bounce' of Cow Pot to Lancaster Hole as Merryn Matthews explains ...
We had spent the previous evening merrily celebrating the summer solstice by Morris dancing, guided by Billy, our very own expert, and drinking many pints poured by bartender Sioned (thanks for helping with the event!).
Group route finding. Left to right: Jess Brock. Merryn Matthews, Emily Wormleighton, Joshitha Shivkumar.
Despite our evening antics, we were feeling fresh and came up with a plan for me, Lucy Hyde, Jess Brock and Billy Evans to descended Cow Pot, leave Lancaster, then reverse the trip and come out of Cow Pot. Meanwhile, Joshitha, Toby, Emily and Grace would follow us down Cow and explore some side passages on their way out.
Billy Evans practising his modelling skills in Slug World.
We slithered our way down the entrance before reaching the fiddly traverse of the big final pitch. This seemed much easier without rigging it, although still very bold. We zipped down and sped through to Lancaster Hole, where we sang a hilarious mishmash of 'Doline' and showed off some rope walking skills before enjoying a quick break in the surface sunshine.
Grace Smith Looking out to Fall Pot.
Back in the cave it seemed like before we'd blinked we at were at Fall Pot, just in time to watch the other group abseiling down the pitch, to 'It's Raining Men' blasting from a speaker. We had a short disco break inspired by Joshitha's rave mode back-up light before saying goodbye bye to the other group and whizzing out.
Left: Merryn Matthews, Cow Pot. RIght, Jess Brock, Lancaster Hole.
Merryn Matthews
[This article first appeared in the July 2025 newsletter.]
LOOK AFTER YOUR FEET!
Our Hon. President Elaine Oliver once glimpsed a cave at a distance while running across the Sahara, as you do, and offers some advice that's equally applicable to caving expeditions as it is to an ultra-marathon in the desert. A re-run of this article seems particularly apt after the recent discussion of galloping foot rot experienced by one of our members after spending too long in Daren Cilau.
The Marathon des Sables is a self-supported seven-day, 250km foot race (155 miles in old money) across the Sahara. In almost 40 years since it was first held, roughly half as many people have finished it as ran the London Marathon this weekend. It had been in the back of my mind for years. And this month, I became one of those people.
How did I get there?
It started, as many ideas within UBSS do, over a pint of Guinness on Whiteladies Road. Imogen was busy convincing me I’d be fit enough to run from Bath to Bristol with her the coming weekend (around 2.5x the distance I was regularly running at the time). During that run, we remarked how I’d only need to cover the same distance nine more times and that would be the Marathon des Sables.
This is what happens when you take a wrong turn on the way from Bristol to Bath.
And so, with only one previous marathon under my belt (Médoc, which includes 23 wine tasting stops en route!), I took that tentative first step into the world of ultramarathons.
Fear is a strong word, but despite training since October I felt intimidated in a way caving expeditions have never made me feel. The sheer number of unknowns were what made it feel so daunting (Will my shoes rub? How will I cope with the heat? Should I have gone for those funny toe sock things? Have I packed enough food? Have I packed too much food?) – plus the fact I was going to be doing this completely by myself, without a safety net of seasoned exped-goers behind me.
All I knew was that despite what might go wrong, finishing would be non-negotiable.
This is what happens when you rely on Google Maps. Definitely not Bath or Bristol. Maybe it's the Cotswolds?
A week after entering the Moroccan desert, I crossed the finish line having had one of the best weeks in the great outdoors of my life. My bivi-mates became my family; my kit, training and nutrition all worked as well as I could have hoped, even if I can’t face looking at Oatso for some time yet. I got only two tiny blisters, and I actually began to feel stronger as the days went by and my body adapted to the environment and the work I was asking of it.
My strategy for the race was to finish each day feeling strong enough to complete the next, and this approach had several angles. Firstly, food. Despite having the second-lightest pack weight in my bivi, I had far and away the most calories with an average of around 3,700 per day – when I coordinated the food for the Totes Gebirge expo I learned a lot about calorie density! (Coconut chips and macadamia nuts, since you didn’t ask.) I knew I’d still be running a deficit (and I did end up around half a stone lighter by the end), but my tent-mates constantly exclaiming ‘are you eating AGAIN??’ meant I knew I was doing it right. I saw people later in the race suffer badly because they’d ditched food early on thinking it was extra weight they wouldn’t need.
Hmm, we're not in Kansas any more, Toto.
Next up: on expo, there’s no point in racing to camp one day only for the Plateau Monster to bite you so you can only limp through the next. Likewise, there’s no point in blitzing through a wadi full of thorn bushes to save ten minutes if you wake up the next day with your legs in tatters. The smart decision is to slow down and look where you’re putting your feet. When I joined the Mulu expedition a few years ago, I learned to protect my feet at all costs: my ‘luxury’ underground camp item was a bag of foot powder which I dipped my toes in every time we got back to our sleeping spot. This routine meant I was just about the only one that didn’t end up with some sort of awful foot-rot! For the MdS, I dedicated valuable backpack-grams to a couple of fresh pairs of socks, which were honestly the most lovely thing to slip into come the Long Day, at a time when many other peoples’ socks could stand up by themselves.
Sticking to a routine was another core tenet of my race strategy. Just like in Mulu, as soon as I got back at the end of the day, the shoes and socks came off, then I made sure to eat some carbs, drink some water, stretch out and elevate my legs for a bit, before beginning my prep for the next day. I kept myself as clean as I could with biodegradable body wipes (allocation of 2 per day!) to keep prickly heat at bay. New batteries in the head torch if the stage was going to continue into the night (any self-respecting caver would know that! But I saw more than one person scrabbling in their backpack for batteries as darkness fell in the desert). At every single checkpoint, I had a little mantra I’d mentally check off: water, electrolyte, eat, suncream, toilet – so when I was exhausted, it was all programmed in there for me to run through, just like when I meet a rebelay in a cave: ‘Short where you’re going, long where you’ve been’, anyone??
I knew I'd find a cave somewhere if I looked hard enough!
Finally, I knew if I was going to make it around in decent nick, I needed to be selective about where I used my energy. Although it’s called a marathon, this is definitely not a 250-km run – even the winners walk sections. There’s almost no time benefit to be gained trying to run heavy sand – you won’t actually be much quicker than walking. So I saved my legs for the better terrain, or when I could see a photographer up ahead! I was the tortoise with consistent pacing and minimal breaks, and I found myself overtaking hares who’d flown past me earlier in the day – in some cases literally asleep at the side of the route. Double marathon day (the Long Day) was when I really drew on my experience of lengthy caving trips, and words passed on by those more experienced than me: “When you feel completely fucked and it’ll be hours 'til you can get out, you need to remember that you’re probably actually still at about 60%”. The body truly is stronger than the mind would have you believe, so I gritted my teeth, pretended I was at the bottom of Tunnocks, and just kept going. The double marathon day was my best placing of the whole event.
So to sum up, if I could offer ten words of advice to anyone considering a caving expedition or an ultramarathon alike: Pace yourself, plenty of snacks, and look after your feet.
[This article first appeared in the April 2025 newsletter.]
Our Hon. President Elaine Oliver once glimpsed a cave at a distance while running across the Sahara, as you do, and offers some advice that's equally applicable to caving expeditions as it is to an ultra-marathon in the desert. A re-run of this article seems particularly apt after the recent discussion of galloping foot rot experienced by one of our members after spending too long in Daren Cilau.
The Marathon des Sables is a self-supported seven-day, 250km foot race (155 miles in old money) across the Sahara. In almost 40 years since it was first held, roughly half as many people have finished it as ran the London Marathon this weekend. It had been in the back of my mind for years. And this month, I became one of those people.
How did I get there?
It started, as many ideas within UBSS do, over a pint of Guinness on Whiteladies Road. Imogen was busy convincing me I’d be fit enough to run from Bath to Bristol with her the coming weekend (around 2.5x the distance I was regularly running at the time). During that run, we remarked how I’d only need to cover the same distance nine more times and that would be the Marathon des Sables.
This is what happens when you take a wrong turn on the way from Bristol to Bath.
And so, with only one previous marathon under my belt (Médoc, which includes 23 wine tasting stops en route!), I took that tentative first step into the world of ultramarathons.
Fear is a strong word, but despite training since October I felt intimidated in a way caving expeditions have never made me feel. The sheer number of unknowns were what made it feel so daunting (Will my shoes rub? How will I cope with the heat? Should I have gone for those funny toe sock things? Have I packed enough food? Have I packed too much food?) – plus the fact I was going to be doing this completely by myself, without a safety net of seasoned exped-goers behind me.
All I knew was that despite what might go wrong, finishing would be non-negotiable.
This is what happens when you rely on Google Maps. Definitely not Bath or Bristol. Maybe it's the Cotswolds?
A week after entering the Moroccan desert, I crossed the finish line having had one of the best weeks in the great outdoors of my life. My bivi-mates became my family; my kit, training and nutrition all worked as well as I could have hoped, even if I can’t face looking at Oatso for some time yet. I got only two tiny blisters, and I actually began to feel stronger as the days went by and my body adapted to the environment and the work I was asking of it.
My strategy for the race was to finish each day feeling strong enough to complete the next, and this approach had several angles. Firstly, food. Despite having the second-lightest pack weight in my bivi, I had far and away the most calories with an average of around 3,700 per day – when I coordinated the food for the Totes Gebirge expo I learned a lot about calorie density! (Coconut chips and macadamia nuts, since you didn’t ask.) I knew I’d still be running a deficit (and I did end up around half a stone lighter by the end), but my tent-mates constantly exclaiming ‘are you eating AGAIN??’ meant I knew I was doing it right. I saw people later in the race suffer badly because they’d ditched food early on thinking it was extra weight they wouldn’t need.
Hmm, we're not in Kansas any more, Toto.
Next up: on expo, there’s no point in racing to camp one day only for the Plateau Monster to bite you so you can only limp through the next. Likewise, there’s no point in blitzing through a wadi full of thorn bushes to save ten minutes if you wake up the next day with your legs in tatters. The smart decision is to slow down and look where you’re putting your feet. When I joined the Mulu expedition a few years ago, I learned to protect my feet at all costs: my ‘luxury’ underground camp item was a bag of foot powder which I dipped my toes in every time we got back to our sleeping spot. This routine meant I was just about the only one that didn’t end up with some sort of awful foot-rot! For the MdS, I dedicated valuable backpack-grams to a couple of fresh pairs of socks, which were honestly the most lovely thing to slip into come the Long Day, at a time when many other peoples’ socks could stand up by themselves.
Sticking to a routine was another core tenet of my race strategy. Just like in Mulu, as soon as I got back at the end of the day, the shoes and socks came off, then I made sure to eat some carbs, drink some water, stretch out and elevate my legs for a bit, before beginning my prep for the next day. I kept myself as clean as I could with biodegradable body wipes (allocation of 2 per day!) to keep prickly heat at bay. New batteries in the head torch if the stage was going to continue into the night (any self-respecting caver would know that! But I saw more than one person scrabbling in their backpack for batteries as darkness fell in the desert). At every single checkpoint, I had a little mantra I’d mentally check off: water, electrolyte, eat, suncream, toilet – so when I was exhausted, it was all programmed in there for me to run through, just like when I meet a rebelay in a cave: ‘Short where you’re going, long where you’ve been’, anyone??
I knew I'd find a cave somewhere if I looked hard enough!
Finally, I knew if I was going to make it around in decent nick, I needed to be selective about where I used my energy. Although it’s called a marathon, this is definitely not a 250-km run – even the winners walk sections. There’s almost no time benefit to be gained trying to run heavy sand – you won’t actually be much quicker than walking. So I saved my legs for the better terrain, or when I could see a photographer up ahead! I was the tortoise with consistent pacing and minimal breaks, and I found myself overtaking hares who’d flown past me earlier in the day – in some cases literally asleep at the side of the route. Double marathon day (the Long Day) was when I really drew on my experience of lengthy caving trips, and words passed on by those more experienced than me: “When you feel completely fucked and it’ll be hours 'til you can get out, you need to remember that you’re probably actually still at about 60%”. The body truly is stronger than the mind would have you believe, so I gritted my teeth, pretended I was at the bottom of Tunnocks, and just kept going. The double marathon day was my best placing of the whole event.
So to sum up, if I could offer ten words of advice to anyone considering a caving expedition or an ultramarathon alike: Pace yourself, plenty of snacks, and look after your feet.
Elaine Oliver
[This article first appeared in the April 2025 newsletter.]
WE'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU!
If you'd like to regale us with stories of women and gender diverse cavers in UBSS over the past 100 years and more, please get in contact. These can be your own personal recollections of what it's like to have been a woman in the caving world or stories about our women cavers. And if there's anything from a past newsletter you'd like us to feature on next year's International Women's Day, do let us know!
We'd love to hear from you!
If you'd like to regale us with stories of women and gender diverse cavers in UBSS over the past 100 years and more, please get in contact. These can be your own personal recollections of what it's like to have been a woman in the caving world or stories about our women cavers. And if there's anything from a past newsletter you'd like us to feature on next year's International Women's Day, do let us know!
We'd love to hear from you!