Whatley
Mammoth has been making regular appearances whilst in lockdown, and
courtesy of student museum curator Nathan Cubbitt, our furry friend was
very active on Twitter as you can see above, but for the rest of us,
it's a case of still
in lockdown, still no caving, but on the bright side, we're still doing
the hilarious weekly virtual pub nights on Tuesday with the exceedingly
popular pub quizzes that have been run by Megan, Sam and Zac, followed
by the usual caving chat and the time-honoured pastime of talking about
anything and everything as well as taking the piss out of your friends.
Bring your own alcohol. If you'd like to join in, keep an eye on
the club's Facebook page. but if you're not on there and would like to
join in, let us know and we'll get the links for the video calls sent over to you.
Last month we had an arts and crafts theme. This month we've turned our
hand to something slightly different, as a result of one of the pub
chats, which got onto the subject of fan fiction, and we set the writers
in the club a challenge of coming up with a piece of fan fiction about a
favourite book, incorporating caving (whether as part of the original
or not) with the optional extra challenge of incorporating a honey
badger. Don't judge us, we'd had a lot to drink by that stage and it all
seemed sane at the time, as it always does. We have two entries this
time, the first by Megan, who absolutely smashed the challenge, and the
second by one of your editors (Linda), who managed a badger, but not of
the honey variety. So we're now bringing you some not-for-profit
creative writing to while away your spare hours in lockdown! What better
incentive could there be to read to the end?
We hope this is an idea we can continue in future issues, so if anyone
would like to turn their hand to fiction writing, either continuing with
the fanfic challenge, or writing that caving murder mystery you've
always wanted to visit on an unsuspecting public, now's your chance.
Ideally anything up to about 1,000 words can run in one piece, and over
that it would be better to serialise. So don't hold back! And if you've
always wanted to write a caving epic, go for it! If you're fanficcing,
just avoid Game of Thrones as GRR Martin gets sniffy on the subject,
whereas JK Rowling takes a very relaxed view of things providing it's on
a non-profit making basis. If in doubt, check with Linda first, it's
her subject area. And if you'd like to send any nice feedback to the
authors, please email us, and we'll pass it on!
And to enable us to keep providing you with club news and history at a
social distanced time, please keep your articles and memories coming.
Our 100 Memories project is doing really well!
We hope you enjoy our latest offering, and thank you all for your lovely email messages of support!
Back issues of this newsletter can be found here.
Linda and Mia
|
|
LOCKDOWN RESTRICTIONS - A VISUAL GUIDE
The UK’s lockdown restrictions are
constantly shifting and sometimes difficult to interpret. To help you
along, we’ve dug into the photo archives and put together a guide of the
most important things to remember in these unusual times. Please note that any resemblance to UBSS members in this important Public Information Announcement is wholly coincidental.
Mendip Cave Rescue is still saying that we shouldn’t be going caving. :(
At the time of writing, the advice is to
stay two metres apart, and remain in groups of two (unless you’re in
Northern Ireland or Scotland, in which case crack on with your five to
seven mates, as long as they’re from only one other household).
This is not social distancing.
This is not social distancing. Big gatherings in a cave are presumably doubly bad.
Traditional caver games such as body traversing or pan and sling are right out
But what to do while we’re waiting for
normal service to resume? Sun tans are the new cave tans, and unlike
Otter mud, they don’t wash off. It’s time to adapt and improve, and
venture above ground for once.
But remember to stay at least two metres
apart from others, particularly if they have been hiking all day and are
a bit fragrant.
Some people may try to infiltrate your 2m bubble. Don’t let them.
You also need to maintain social distancing
if called upon to deliver essential supplies, such as whisky, to those
in need. (Off-licences were classed as essential early on in the
lockdown.)
Keep washing your hands. And the rest of yourself too while you’re at it, especially if you’ve been hiking all day.
Wear a face covering. This will help reduce
the number of gross germs you can cough over everyone, and with any
luckalso do a reasonable job at deterring midges. You’re socially
distancing anyway, so nobody will notice how ridiculous you look.
And finally, remember: stay alert.
 Always remain vigilant to the invisible enemy!
Elaine Oliver
|
|
HOW I GOT INTO CAVING
First year computer science student Zac Woodford looks back on how he
got into caving, and the story starts well before he found UBSS.
When I was little I always looked up to my aunt, she always did things
that were out of this world for a middle-class child from Bath:
climbing, canoeing, hiking, caving, motorbiking, activities I thought
were incredible. And while I later did a lot of hiking and climbing
through scouts and did my one start paddle sport at the time I always
looked forward to her rare visits and the stories she would tell of
adventures on rivers, up cliffs and down caves.
Unfortunately, she was always busy and as such could never take me on
any adventures of my own. But in 2010 she married a man who seemed to
obsessively collect qualifications: climbing, kayaking, canoeing,
mountain biking and most importantly CIC in cave and mine. He worked as a
freelance outdoor instructor and as such had the time to take me on
trips. The first of these involved river walking, a one-night expedition
and “caving”. So. I was thirteen at the time when I went up to Weardale
for a long weekend and my first real experience underground (show caves
and the Big Pit don’t count).
Notice the specificity, ‘underground’, because it was a mine we went
down. My first time underground was a mine. It was a large iron mine in
the Yorkshire dales, big enough to just walk into. And for my first time
underground it was incredible. Going to a place that’s so inaccessible
and experiencing true darkness. Plus, the social history is fascinating.
It was also the first time I discovered how bad my sense of direction
is underground.
A couple years later I went down Goatchurch twice, once with scouts,
once with my uncle while he assessed another instructor: some poor young
youth worker it seemed, who was way out of her depth and had a
breakdown at the Drain Pipe, she didn’t even go through it!
Just after GCSEs, I went up to Yorkshire to hike Pen-y-ghent and went
down Lancaster Pot with my aunt and uncle and some of their friends -
namely, the Middlesbrough port master, an old Irish caver who we had to
push out at the end, and a young woman (it was a long time ago, I can’t
remember their names or what they did). That was my first experience of
SRT having learnt it the Friday before the Sunday we went down. It was a
short pitch (about five meters) which was good because my technique was
atrocious.
Halfway through A levels I again took three trains up to Runcorn to join
my uncle on another trip to Cwmorthin slate mine (Go Below) where he
was working at the time.
Cwmorthin is one of those places where you can easily describe it, a
series of giant chambers running at a slant through a mountain across
many levels but doing so doesn’t convey the shear awe of the place. Its
titanic; if Moria was real, it would be Cwmorthin. Chamber after chamber
connected together creating titanic steps down the mountain. Great
pillars of stone separating halls greater than those of most of the
castles of Europe. The next day we went to a mine of the opposite
calibre, an ancient copper mine originally used by the Romans and was
still used up until the nineteenth century (53°07'28.6"N 3°12'11.6"W, if
you’re interested). However, it had long since been disused and as such
the entrance was barely more than a drain. It was a very tight mine,
more akin to a cave than a mine as it was dug following the vein giving
it a rift like structure. I have a brilliant picture of my head poking
out of the entrance.
At the end of A-levels I had done many more varieties of mine than
caves, which I enjoyed. Mines are rich in fascinating social history,
larger and have lots of awesome abandoned equipment. But caves offer
more of a challenge and an adventure and aren’t just a walking holiday.
After A-levels, I, naturally, went to university (tried for Cambridge
but didn’t even get to interview) and that brought me to Bristol. I
remember the summer before starting, half-jokingly half-curiously
laughing with my family about joining the caving club if Bristol had
one. If only I knew…
At the end of freshers week on an overcast rainy Friday I headed up to
the downs to purvey the various desperate attempts by societies and
businesses to lure in students and, lo and behold, in the first tent I
visited (sports societies was the theme) I found a
harness-and-helmet-clad Henry handing out UBSS pamphlets. Every other
society wasted time and paper for the rest of that day trying to get me
to join them; I’ll admit I was curious about the gliding and skydiving
society, but the rest were in vain.
I finally had an excuse to become a troglobyte. The next week I attended
a goulash social at the Stables and then rest has been wet, muddy, cold
and incredible, whether I’ve been drenched in Swildon’s or suspended
from the ceiling of the SU, I don’t regret a moment of it. In fact my
only regret is that I wasn’t able to do more, living at home is cheaper
but socially isolating. I can only hope that lockdown ends soon, and we
can get back underground.
Zac Woodford
|
|
VIRTUAL PUB - ALL WELCOME!
Last Tuesday's pub night, with various
people doing 'Sam hair', with varying degrees of success, and Henry
practising indoor cycling.
Yes, you too can join in on Tuesday night and display abysmal knowledge of a wide range of things, just like everyone else!
Two teams compete against each other to show who knows the least about
things such as book quotes, album covers and other obscure and
not-so-obscure facts. On one occasion a team managed to be the only
entrants but somehow still came an impressive last! Or maybe they won...
there was drinking involved, so it's hard to be sure.
The exceedingly popular pub quizzes have been run by Megan, Sam and Zac,
followed by the usual caving chat and the time-honoured pastime of
talking about anything and everything as well as taking the piss out of
your friends. Bring your own alcohol. If you'd like to join in,
keep an eye on the club's Facebook page. but if you're not on there and
would like to join in, let us know and we'll get the links for the video calls sent over to you.
Cavers quickly discovered that there's no obligatory drinking up and
kicking out time online, so virtual pub has some distinct pluses over
the real thing, but by the time lockdown ends, pubs reopen and haircuts
have happened, we'll no doubt all be glad to socialise in person!
|
|
100 MEMORIES - A FRESHER SO NEAT
Helen looking very spic and span in a club oversuit early in her caving career.
Former UBSS secretary Helen
Frawley, who graduates as a vet next month, shares memories from her
first caving weekend in October 2015, describing herself as "a naïve
little fresh caver!" But despite her adventures, Little Neath remains
one of her favourite caves now and she's looking forward to a trip once
lockdown is over.
I was warned it would be wet; I guess the name and significantly too
small wetsuit gave it away. But naïve fresher me was not prepared for
quite how chilly and wet Little Neath would be!
Slightly hungover from the previous night of caving games, a small group
of us went to follow in the footsteps of our elders in UBSS; visiting
Little Neath River Cave. We traipsed down the river peering in any hole
we could find looking for the cave until Cam disappeared. All we could
see was a pair of wellies sticking out of the rock; guess he found the
entrance!
One of our party was already starting to regret the determination and
valiant effort it took to get into the wetsuit he was offered - ‘I used
to wear this when I was about 14’- and was complaining of chafage. The
cave began with a tight, very wet crawl which was great fun and soon
filled up our wetsuits which solved the issue. After some wiggling
about, it opened up slightly before reaching my first ever duck. I got
through without drama and we carried on to Tributary Passage. This was
one of the few bits of walking I had done for a while as I finally got
to stand up straight!
We then went through to look at the infamous sump that links Bridge Cave
to Little Neath (woo go UBSS!!) before continuing on our own little
adventure. Us freshers were allowed to lead the way for a while until,
totally oblivious to where we were going and what we had reached, we
were forced to stop. There was lots of water… Surely we weren’t to go
through it? Cam smugly told us we had reached The Canal and that yes, it
was swimming time. We braced ourselves and went for it. After what felt
like a very long time and lots of water in my ears, we reached the end.
An upside: the hangovers were greatly reduced!
We then went on to the Junction Chamber where we stopped for chocolate,
biscuits and more chocolate. Suitably fed, we - like the wise men -
returned via a different route; thankfully the Canal By-pass. The trip
was going swimmingly (excuse the pun!) until the exit crawl. Cold, wet
and quite tired by this point, I got my leg and hip wedged under a bit
of rock and couldn’t get it free. This dammed up the stream as my
oversuit filled up.
There was a fair amount of pushing and pulling (well as much as possible
in a near flat out crawl). One of the more sympathetic of the group
thought I had stopped because of a spider and was freaking out because
he doesn’t like them. I was thinking that two trips with the club seemed
too soon to require a rescue story. After about 15 minutes (although it
felt like hours) lying face down in the water, I managed to relieve my
leg from under the ledge and we all crawled/dragged ourselves back out
of Flood Entrance to finish like a beached whale in the river.
Helen Frawley
|
|
CAVING IN GUNUNG SEWU, JAVA
Hans, caving in Gunung Sewu.
As part of our 100 Memories
project, Hans Friederich has kindly taken the time to share some of his
memories of expedition caving and cave science abroad.
Gunung Sewu (it translates as "Thousand Hills") is an area of
spectacular limestone cone karst in southern Java, some 30 km southeast
of Yogyakarta. The limestone hills have an area of over 1300 km2
and 40,000 limestone cones, all of remarkably consistent size, the mean
being around 200 m in diameter and 50 m high. In 2015, UNESCO declared
Gunung Sewu as a Global Geopark site.
Over a quarter of a million people live within the karst area, mainly in
small villages in the valleys and karst depressions. The critical
restriction on economic development of the area is the total lack of
surface water or readily available groundwater throughout the dry
season. Starting in the late 1970s, Indonesia's Ministry of Public works
and Britain's Overseas Development Agency jointly financed a large
groundwater project in central Java, and Gunung Sewu was included in the
project. Several attempts to reach the groundwater with boreholes had
not been successful, and it was therefore decided that further
development could not proceed until the water resources of the karst
aquifer were properly assessed.
The Royal Geographical Society was contacted with a request to identify a
group of suitable cave scientists, and they got in touch with Tony
Waltham, and – as they say – the rest is history. The 1982 project
agreement simply stated that two two-man teams should explore and map as
many sinkholes as possible in a search for useable water resources. The
team comprised Pete Smart and Hans Friederich from Bristol, together
with Tony Waltham, Andy Eavis and Tim Atkinson. The team was in the
field from late July to early September 1982.
Hans, surrounded by locals taking an interest in what he's doing.
Scores of cave entrances were known by the
local people, and many of them were explored for the first time in 1982.
Further exploration in 1983 by Dick Willis and friends resulted in a
complete catalogue of 263 caves. A major group of caves lies along the
northern margin of Gunung Sewu where it borders the Wonosari Plateau
which is made up of chalky non-cavernous limestone. Surface rivers from
the Plateau sink where they meet the outcrop of the cavernous Sewu
limestones, and the result is a series of active river caves that still
contain sizeable river flows in the dry season. The central area of Sewu
is characterised by steeply descending shaft systems, located in the
valleys and depressions between the conical hills.
The object of the 1982 project was to find water, and exploration of
"likely" wet passages was the prime task. Caves with water were surveyed
to grade 5, and dry caves of any length were just surveyed to grade 3.
Extensive programmes of dye tracing and water quality testing were
carried out at the same time, and confirmed that most of the
subterranean water flows to the large Baron resurgence on the southern
coast of Java.
Economically usable resources really had to be one of two types.
- Small
streams or pools generally at depths of less than 30m, which could be
exploited by direct access or hand dug and operated wells, or;
- Major
streams or large lakes at depths up to about 100m, which could support
abstraction schemes using boreholes and submersible pumps.
A number of usable resources of both types
were found, but after the first phase of explorations it was realised
that the main conduits from the river sinks in the north all ended in
sumps, and probably continued in the phreatic zone. The exploration
efforts therefore shifted to finding perched water resources within the
shaft systems of the central area; many caves were therefore left
unexplored where they descended to depths from which small resources
could not be exploited economically.
The centre of attention!
The 1982 cave survey programme in Gunung
Sewu was considered cost effective as a large proportion of the known
caves was explored at a cost equivalent to that of drilling only a few
boreholes Some resources with immediate potential were discovered,
and five sites were budgeted for development in the following years. We
did not survey all caves in the area and Dick Willis, Colin Boothroyd
and Nigel Briggs returned to Gunung Sewu in August of 1983 in order to
complete the exploration of the area. They concluded that their work
more or less completed the exploration of the known sites of
speleological interest in west Gunung Sewu.
Hans Friederich
References
Waltham AC, Smart PL, Friederich, H, Eavis, A.J & Atkinson TC
(1983). The caves of Gunung Sewu, Java:, Cave Science, 10 (2), pp 55–96
Antony C. Waltham, Peter L. Smart,
Hans Friederich & Timothy C. Atkinson (1985),
«Exploration of caves for rural water supplies in the Gunung Sewu karst,
Java», Annales de la Société géologique de Belgique [En ligne], 108, pp 27-31
Eko Haryono (2010). Significant features of Gunung Sewu karst as
Geopark site. 4th International UNESCO Conference on Geoparks,
April 2010, Langkawi.
Willis R.G., Boothroyd C. & Briggs N. 1984,
The Caves of Gunung Sewu, Java, Cave Science 11 (3), pp
119 - 153.
|
|
JOURNEYS BENEATH THE EARTH: THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A CAVE EXPLORER
Veteran cave explorer Dave Gill has
recently published the first part of his fascinating autobiography
describing his caving career. Linda Wilson and Graham Mullan spent two
months working with Dave on the book...
As a lot of people know, Graham and I spend a lot of our time editing
and writing, but I wasn't expecting an email from David Rose of Oxford
University CC in February this year asking if I'd be willing to help out
Dave Gill with some editing work on his autobiography. At that stage, I
didn't actually know Dave, although we have many mutual friends in
common. With the lockdown looming ever-closer, I thought I might have
some free time, so I said I'd take a look at the book.
I was quickly sucked into the story of Dave's early life and how he got
into caving, then tale upon tale of expeditions quickly followed. Dave
has a great natural writing style and can spin a great yarn in the same
vein as such early classics as Norbert Casteret's adventures (but unlike
Monsieur Casteret, Dave isn't a bullshit merchant!). No exaggeration is
needed to embellish the stories as Dave really was - is - as hard as
nails and has done things that caused the hairs on the back of my neck
to stand up, in particularly the terrifyingly wet antics on the Untamed
River Expeditions. I also really enjoyed all the stories of caving in
France on early UK expeditions to the Gouffre Berger and the Pierre
Saint-Martin.
I worked my way happily through 300 pages and then turned the edited
version over to Graham who did the layout, including photos and cover
design, and produced versions for use on Amazon and as eBooks.
Altogether, we spent two months and countless hours on the book, and
will soon be starting work with Dave on volume 2, so that's my dog in
the race clearly labelled!
I can honestly say that Journey's Beneath the Earth is an absolute must
for anyone with an interest in the history of expeditions and anyone who
is thinking about running an expedition abroad. Dave shows that most
obstacles can be overcome by a combination of meticulous planning, good
humour and respect for the local people, no matter where in the world
you happen to be, You'll also encounter quite a few UBSS members in its
pages...
Journeys Beneath the Earth: the autobiography of a cave explorer is available on Amazon.
The high print cost of £34.95 is unfortunately an inevitable
consequence of publishing with full colour throughout on a
self-publishing platform, but with the state of the publishing industry,
book deals are few and far between, so this was the only likely way for
this impressive to reach a caving audience. The Kindle version is much
more modestly priced at £8.50.
|
|
PHOTO CORNER
Thanks to Liz Green for this photo of the our second hut in the woods!
This replaced the old caravan that women members used to sleep in the
woods. It was originally known as the Women's Quarters then later became
known as the Married Quarters, which is a story in changing social
dynamics in itself, and if something that would well repay a more
detailed study! No doubt it could feature entertainingly in our oral
histories project, so please do let us have your memories of when the
hut was built, how it's changed over time, your memories of the times
you've had to clear birds' nests from the chimney etc!
WHAT TO DO WHILST BORED IN LOCKDOWN!
James Rossington, who many will remember was one of the very last people
still standing and vaguely sentient in the bar of the Wookey Hole Hotel
after the Centenary Dinner, turned 18 at the beginning of May, and as
well as wanting to do more caving, he's also a very keen climber, and
during lockdown has missed going to the climbing wall, so he decided to
do something about it and construct his own.
The structure grew week by week in his parents' kitchen, to the extent
that on one occasion, Helen and Richard had to resort to phoning for a
takeaway due to the inability to reach the fridge! Thanks to Helen and
James for this photo.
If climbers can do it, so can cavers! Come on folks, the bar has been
raised. We need our own artificial cave. Let's see what you've been up
to during lockdown!
COMPETITION!
Thanks to Dick Willis for supplying this photo!
The competition is to name ALL the people (or as many as you can) from
left to right. There will be prizes or a wonderful new UBSS mini-torch
for your keyring for the first three correct answers to arrive! There
will be a bonus prize of a UBSS pen for any winning entries that give
the correct location and year the photo was taken.
And if you don't know the answer, there will be also be a prize for the funniest spoof entry!
|
|
IF SAM HAD A SPIRIT ANIMAL ....
|
|
So what's your caving spirit animal and why?
Send us your photos and a few words of wisdom! Or make one up on behalf
of your friends! Or we'll make one up for you...
|
|
|
AND NOW FOR OUR GREAT CAVING FANFICTION CHALLENGE ....
|
|
To get our creative writing
challenge off to a flying start, Megan has kindly shared the first
chapter of her forthcoming Epic, which will appear as and when further
inspiration strikes. Sam Bowers provided the cover image.
Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet
Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly clean, thank you very
much. They were the last people you’d expect to go digging around in the
mud for a bit of fun.
They lived in a large, pristine, semi-detached suburban home, with a
large, pristine, weed-free garden. Inside the house, the floors and
furnishings were carpeted in a dust free nauseating shade of salmon, and
the large, pristine kitchen looked like it had hopped right out of an
Ikea showroom, and didn’t know the meaning of the word food.
Mr Dursley was an uncomfortably bulbous man. He was a firm believer in
best before dates on food packaging and couldn’t stand the thought of
anything rotting sullying his shiny kitchen. Because of this, he ate
everything he could find with less than three days left, and had ended
up rather fat. His wife, Petunia, was built like a broomstick, and had a
permanently pinched face from the constant smell of disinfectant. Their
son Dudley adopted the worst traits of both his parents and had
developed a firm aversion to going outside under any circumstances.
The Dursley family had one single common energy that they loathed with every fibre of their being. Dirt.
One night, when Dudley was still a screaming toddler, Privet Drive was
visited by some oddly dressed strangers. A woman in a red boiler suit,
the colour subdued by a thick layer of grime, sat on the edge of the
pavement and stared into space, as if waiting for someone.
She was old, and her hair was a dull grey, streaked with a brown that
might have been a remnant of her former youth, or might have just been
mud. As the numbers on her digital, water-resistant watch ticked over to
midnight, she was startled by an eerie grating sound. A stooped figure
emerged from the shadows. It was a very old man. He had a long white
beard that he tucked into a thick belt wrapped around the same dusty
boiler suit as the woman. His gentle eyes were playful and full of
energy, but his body was stooped low from the years spent in cramped
conditions.
“Albus Dumbledore!” the woman cried. “You startled me! You appeared as if by magic!”
Dumbledore chuckled, showing off rows of yellowish teeth.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Minerva,” he said. “I simply came out of the drain
hole. No one wants to hear you prattling on about magic. Who on earth
would be interested in that?”
“Are the rumours true? Were Lily and James really… really… you know...”
“Mauled to death by a honey badger?” Dumbledore sighed, dabbing his eyes
with a mouldy tissue. “I am afraid so. The boy survived. Hagrid is
bringing him now.”
Before Minerva could protest, a low hum echoed down the empty streets,
getting louder and louder until the glaring lights of a motorbike turned
the corner and sped directly towards the two figures. It skidded to a
halt in front of them. A giant, shaggy man holding a new-born swathed in
a faded blanket passed the baby over to Dumbledore. He reached into his
coat pockets and pulled out a pic n mix bag, filled with lots of tiny
pebbles. He crunched on them noisily.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, flecks of gravel spluttering from his bushy
mouth. “Bit of a struggle to get myself down the cave. Gettin’ a bit
tubby nowadays, I’m afraid.” He patted the front of his fuzzy coat, the
buttons stretched thin over his belly. “Ol’ Sirius Black ended up havin’
ter rescue the both of us. He leant me this bike, and I came fast as I
could. “
“Thank you for bringing him to us, Hagrid,” said Dumbledore. “He will be placed with his closest relatives.”
“You can’t mean these ridiculous Muggles!” Minerva exclaimed. “I’ve been
watching them all day! They’re some of the worst sort. Why, I don’t
think that pudgy son of theirs has ever so much as stomped in a puddle!”
“It is for the best, Minerva,” said Dumbledore, cradling the infant
tenderly. “He is far better growing up away from our world, for the time
being. Think of the fame that comes when one’s parents are mauled to
death. We could not let that go to his head.”
Minerva sighed, and conceded. She took the baby from Dumbledore’s arms,
and gently placed it down on the doorstep. Dumbledore took out a
scrawled letter and tucked it into the blanket.
“Goodbye, Harry,” Hagrid cried, his fat tears dribbling down his mud
streaked face. The three of them turned away from Privet Drive and
vanished into the night. The baby slept on, unaware that he had lost his
parents, unaware that at that moment, men and women across the country
were raising grubby glasses and crying “Cheers to Harry! Cheers to The
Boy Who Wasn’t Mauled to Death by a Honey Badger!”
|
|
I fell passionately in love with
the world of Middle-earth as an eight-year-old, which did well for me in
my second year of uni when WH Allen &Son publishers accepted a
scruffy typescript of The Tolkien Quiz Book, co-authored with my
long-time friend and co-conspirator, Nigel Robinson. It was published in
the UK and the US, Second hand copies can still be picked up, I
believe! A return to my old fanfiction stamping grounds a couple of
years ago has been a lot of fun. This takes place during the battle of
Helm's Deep in The Two Towers. The title comes from Thorin's song in Bilbo's house in The Hobbit. So here goes...
“Baruk Khazâd! Khazâd ai-mênu!”
Gimli’s axe rose and fell, cleaving the orc’s sword arm from its body. A
thrust from Éomer’s long blade finished the job he had started.
The dwarf sketched a quick bow. “My thanks. That one was proving troublesome.”
“Does that count towards your contest?” asked Éomer, his conversational tone belying how hard pressed they were.
“I will discount that as a joint effort,” answered Gimli. “The Elf may
need the advantage in the game. The fighting is fierce here.”
“I doubt it is easier elsewhere. But we are being pressed back to the
cliff. Our only refuge may well be in the caves. If I give the order to
retreat, follow me closely.”
“A dwarf does not run from the vermin of Isengard!”
“We run or die, my friend, and I have no intention of dying this night…”
Éomer’s sword flashed in the torchlight and another orc fell.
Their enemies were driven onwards by whip and spear, some fuelled by
rage and some by fear; fear of their own captains overrode even their
fear of the Strawheads, as they called the men of Rohan. No quarter was
given and none was asked. The defenders were being pressed inexorably
back, step by step, Éomer on his right, a man whose name he did not know
on his left. When one orc was cut down, another sprang to take its
place. The Rohirrim were stout allies in a fight, but Gimli longed for a
hundred of his countrymen and their axes and then they would teach
Saruman’s creatures some manners.
As he fended off a spear thrust from a towering orc chieftain, a pained
gasp on his left boded ill. He sprang forward to give cover, yelling
again the battle cry of his people, “Khazâd! Khazâd!”
An orc swung a curved sword dark with blood and he passed Gimli’s
defence. The dwarf’s iron helm turned the blade but it was knocked from
his head and he felt the edge of the weapon slice his forehead in a
glancing blow.
“For the King of the Mark!” Éomer cried, his sword flashing red again and again.
The orcs fell back a body’s length.
Gimli dashed blood from his eyes. On his left side, his comrade’s thigh
now sprouted a black fletched arrow below the man’s mail hauberk.
“Do not pull it!” he cried. “The tips are barbed.”
The man stepped back, sheathed his sword and snapped the shaft.
“Their archers will pick us off one by one. We cannot tarry. To the
caves!” Éomer ordered. “Leofwine, lead the way. Gimli and I will cover
the retreat.”
Step by tortuous step, they gave ground as around them grey arms of rock
closed in, forcing the orcs to come at them in ones and two.
An orc rushed at him and Gimli swung his axe. An iron collar jarred his
axe, but his second strike cleaved its skull, despite the notch his axe
blade now sported.
“Turn now!” Éomer ordered. “I have your back, Master Dwarf!”
Gimli did as he had been bidden, following torchlight into a narrow cleft.
“Keep moving!” Leofwine said. “When Éomer is inside, we collapse the entrance.”
Once Éomer reached the rock sanctuary, Leofwine took hold of a long
wooden pole and swung on it with all his weight, ignoring the arrow in
his leg. The rock groaned, then shifted, a huge block falling to crush
the orc that had been hard on Éomer’s heels.
As more rocks fell, sealing the entrance, Gimli nodded approving. The
blockage would hold, he was sure of that, and if the orcs deployed their
blasting fire, they would only bring down more of the cliff.
The defenders had won through to safety. For now, at least.
****
Gimli stared in wonder at the vast cavern as around him the survivors of
the desperate battle for Helm’s Deep laid down their weapons as men and
women rushed to tend the injured. Their faces told those who looked on
them that they had not expected to escape with their lives, cornered as
they had been like badgers in a trap.
He ignored the clamour of voices and the stamp of horses’ hooves on the
dry, sandy floor echoing from orderly picket lines on the far side of
the chamber.
Above him soared a vast vaulted roof adorned by countless frozen white
pendants that hung all around in long clusters. Around the sides of the
chamber many-coloured pillars climbed high, some white as the fair hand
of the Lady Galadriel, others with the rosy blush of dawn and warm soft
saffron hues. Translucent curtains draped from the roof and clung to the
walls, with the light of lanterns shining through. Everywhere he
looked, towering pillars stood as tall as mallorn trees in the groves of
Lothlorien, drops of water splashing down onto their flattened tops
like rainfall on a spring morning. Some had grown tall enough to form
columns joining roof to floor, some as slender as a reed, others as
thick and gnarled as old oaks.
His heart sang at the sight of such beauty and he marvelled that the
Rohirrim had spoken of these caves as no more than storehouses and a
refuge in time of war, yet here they had glories the like of which Gimli
had never before seen. Not even the great caverns of the Lonely
Mountain or the deep chambers of Iron Hills could rival this display of
riches.
Gems glistened in the walls and frozen flowers bloomed from the rock as
white as lilies, growing slowly but surely, others were as thin as the
finest silken cord, their beauty twisting this way and that into
eccentric forms. Gleaming white pearls nestled in beds of marble, as all
around crystals glittered in the lamplight like hoar frost on a winter
morning. Pausing only to dash the blood from his eyes when it threatened
to obscure his sight, he lost himself in a world of delight until the
sights, sounds and smells of battle faded from his mind.
His wandering feet led him to a wide lake mirroring the glories above
and he admired the illusion of the towers and pinnacles of a city of
glass and adamant, strong and glorious beyond even the dreams of Durin.
As he watched, a single drop fell and shattered the image.
“Gimli, your wound needs to be tended,” Éomer said softly at his side.
“This is all the healing salve I need, my friend, but I do not want my blood to stain such perfection.”
He turned away from the pool and was once more in the world of blood and pain.
His count now stood at forty-two but he would willingly cede the game if Legolas still lived.
|
|
JIGSAW COMPETITION RESULTS
As several eagle-eyed people
spotted, the cave survey jigsaw was Swildon's! This deduction may have
been aided by a close examination of the text...
The entries, in order, were:
Ashley Gregg (the winner!)
Chris Howes
Clive Owen
Elaine Oliver
Dickon Morris
And an honourable mention to Jacob Podesta, who said: "Since there are
pieces with 'Swildon's one', 'Swildon's three' and 'Swildon's four'
written on it I think I am going to have to go with Wookey Hole."
If anyone would like to try their hand at making another jigsaw for next time, that would be great!
|
|
I READ TO THE END!!!
We hope lots of you did, but there
always has to be a winner, and this month its the lovely Dr Andy
Farrant, up at an unfeasibly early hour! We're now going to be compiling
a League Table, so keep those entries coming for your place in the
history books! The running order for the April issue was as follows....
- Yay caving.. (Andy Farrant)
- Arggghghh I can't wait to actually go underground! This was a nice way start the day though. Thanks. (Si Hadfield)
- I read to the end! Honestly. (Hans Friederich)
- I'm probably not the first, but I did enjoy reading about the
past Ireland trips. We are yet to find any nuns guarding the caves on
our visits. (Ashley Gregg)
- Oops I slept in. (Megan Malpas)
- Me - good excuse for procrastination (Stu Walker)
- Pick Me!
- Yes, friends, once more to the end ... (Chris Howes)
- Here’s me and the blessed FT Bear checking in! (Sharon Wheeler)
- Yay Caving! (Rosie Daniels)
And Ian Wheeler gets an honourable
mention, as he might have won if his email hadn't taken a stupendous 14
days to arrive! He sent it very early, then it went for an unscheduled
trip around Box Mines and clearly got delayed en route. Ian said: Second
place and first loser last month, so surely due a promotion up the
ranks this time round? Got to be some advantage to being up at this hour
to plan my teaching!
Yes, I did, I read to the end!
THE END
|
|
|
|
