Hut working weekend 2024. Photo by Linda Wilson.
|
|
With exam season drawing to a close, there has been a lemming-like rush to get underground. There's also been a welcome flurry of trip reports! Don't forget that all you have to do to get your activities recorded for posterity is to fill in this simple form and email photos to us.
In our next edition you'll be able to read about caving in an area where carrying a gun is mandatory, and you'll see what we got up to during the annual working weekend at the Hut. Please keep those reports coming in. We'd also love to hear any reminiscences you might have about caving in times past to add to our 100 Memories project. We'd particularly like to hear any stories about caving or working with EK 'Trat' Tratman and Oliver 'OCL' Lloyd as we'd like to compile a feature about two people who did so much for the club so that new members can see the background behind the Tratman Fund administered by the university to fund work abroad and the Oliver Lloyd Memorial Fund which provides grants to UBSS for a variety of things, including the costs of the working weekends at the hut.
You'll see that there's a new caving song in this month's newsletter. There's been talk recently of compiling a new UBSS songbook, so what are your favourite caving songs, old or new? What keeps your spirits up on a wet wait for the rope to be free, or on a long surveying trip? Have you written any caving songs? We'd love to hear from you!
If you want check out previous issues, you can find them all here. You can also find a scanned archive of all our paper issues from 1919 to 2017 here.
|
|
TREASURER'S NOTE
Public Service Announcement: Please read!
It seems that emails from my [email protected] address are not being delivered to everyone as they should be. This means that subscription reminders are not getting through. If you don't remember paying your sub between March and now, it means you probably haven't! Please contact me at either that email, or my ordinary email or on WhatsApp and I can check for you.
Graham Mullan
|
|
|
BCA AGM
All members of UBSS are members of the British caving association (BCA). BCA does a lot more than simply provide insurance. The association's AGM is taking place at 7pm on Monday 3rd June 2024 by Zoom.
The AGM mostly receives reports from the various officers, but there are some vacant posts, namely one individual representative and one group representative. Please do consider standing for one of these positions. The link for the meeting is HERE.
|
|
|
THE RIGGER
Caving songs everywhere are known for putting a new slant on some old favourites and now Zac Woodford has turned to the country classic, The Gambler, written by Don Schlitch and most famously performed by Kenny Rogers ...
In a Cold Austrian Cave
In a camp, edge of nowhere
I sat up with a Rigger
We were both too tired to sleep
So we took turns a-starin'
Down the lead at the darkness
Till boredom overtook us
And they began to speak
They said, "Kid, I've made a life
Out of rigging sketchy pitches
Knowing where the bolts go
By the sound the rocks make
So if you don't mind my sayin'
Your rope-work'll end in stitches
For a taste of your Curry
I'll give you some advice"
So I handed them my bowl
And they drank down my last swallow
Then they bummed a spare cell
And refilled their light
And the cave got deathly quiet
And their face lost all expression
Said, "If you're gonna rig this cave, kid
You gotta learn to rig it right
You've got to know where to bolt 'em
Know where to hold on
Know where to tie them in
And know what to knot
You never count your krabs
When you're swinging from the pitch-head
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the rigging’s done
Every rigger knows
That the secret to survivin'
Is knowin' what to garden
And knowin' what to keep
'Cause every lead’s a goer
And every lead's an ender
And the best that you can hope for
Is a few more feet"
And when they'd finished speakin'
They turned back toward the darkness
Turned out their headlight
Faded off to sleep
And somewhere in the cave
The rigger made the breakthrough
But in their final words
I found a lead that I could keep
You've got to know where to bolt 'em
Know where to hold on
Know where to tie them in
And know what to knot
You never count your krabs
When you're swinging on the pitch-head
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the rigging’s done
You've got to know where to bolt 'em
Know where to hold on
Know where to tie them in
And know what to knot
You never count your krabs
When you're swinging on the pitch-head
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the rigging’s done
You've got to know where to bolt 'em
Know when to hold on
Know where to tie them in
And know what to knot
You never count your krabs
When you're swinging on the pitch-head
There'll be time enough for countin'
When the rigging’s done
Zac Woodford
|
|
|
MORE TOP TIPS
Training guru Jess Brock offers continues to offer top tips to make your time underground more comfortable.
- If you find that your wellies are too large but the next size down is way too small then wear a pair of crappy fluffy socks on top of your neoprene socks. This allows you to get better grip in your wellies without stubbing your toes.
- When buying gloves it's important to think about what cave you are going to do. Wet caves usually call for washing up type gloves with longer sleeves and waterproofing. Drier caves are better with flexible gardening gloves. I tend to always wear the latter as I have small hands. No gloves is also an option but you tend to smash your fingers about a bit more.
- Always take a back up battery for your light! Even on short trips as you never know when your main battery is going to have an off day.
Jess Brock
|
|
|
BENEATH THE BRISTOL STREETS
Is it a cave? Is it a sewer? Is it a glimpse into the dark and twisted collective consciousness of the Knight’s Templar? Dan Rose reveals all in this tale of subterranean Bristol.
Hoodie up, wellies on, mind knarly, Billy Evans, Charlie Corcoran and I squeezed into the monk's tunnels of Temple Pipe one weekend, taking an ill-advised break from revision to wade through brown springwater to admire the Speleo-Medievalists' dream.
A kilometre of tunnels dug in the 14th century to transport water from a spring to the monastery being built at Temple Gate provide both an insight into late-Medieval infrastructure and – more importantly – an excellent place to procrastinate. We reached the entrance – a small hole in the ground leading down to a gravelly squeeze, with just wellies, shorts and hoodies for protection. Realising that this was going to be wet and muddy, I regretted forgetting to bring spare clothes, made sore by the fact that I was the only one to neglect this provision. Yet deferring the issue of perpetual muddiness to the minds of the future, I dropped down and slid through the platypus sized concrete arch.
Emerging to the uniform size of the man-made passage ahead was a jarring experience. Not quite cave, not quite construction. A liminal space, spiritually and temporally de-grounding. Insecurity and disorientation, compounded by the knowledge of instability – that a mere bump on the ceiling could bring the precarious pipeline plummeting down. A concrete pummelling that even the chivalric knightly ideal, endowed with spiritual and physical prowess, would be rendered defenceless against. Aesthetically, the tunnels look half-generated. Winding off into the dark distance like the small intestines of a leviathan, the place is ominously orange and off-putting, as though someone had asked a non-caver to draw what they imagined the inside of a cave to look like. A simulation of reality breaking down before our eyes. We felt forbidden. Soon-to-be recipients of biblical justice, perhaps.
To regain our grasp on reality, we began to sing. The Lord’s Prayer, adapted to the tune of Auld Lang Syne. A primary school favourite of mine that we felt was appropriate for the monastic setting. We hurled the lyrics at the walls and into the water ahead of us which, to our dismay, was gradually rising with each step. Ankles submerged. Then calves, then thighs all the way up to the waistline. Trudging.
As we moved, we felt the fruits of Medieval labour reaching out to us through the thousands of pickaxe marks still visible along the walls. Dents and grooves lining every inch of stone. The toil of the monks, preserved for centuries, manifesting within the archaeologically inclined visions of urban exploration. Magnificent artifacts of the lifestyle that time forgot, tempered only by the occasional piece of 21st century graffiti, the connection felt to a past to which neither I, nor my ancestors, have ever played a role, gave concrete foundation to the abstract perceptions of the Medieval world which my mind has built over the years. To see evidence of such a world in the flesh, accompanied by the symphony of senses that wet tunnels evoke within the skin, nose, eyes and ears, felt legitimising to the historical imagination. In its natural habitat, untouched by commercial tourism, not yet compartmentalised by any kind of ‘Natural Trust’. Continuity between the past and the present suddenly felt fathomable.
Billy Evans, looking intrepid, in the atmospheric tunnels. Photo by Dan Rose.
Reaching the passage’s further reaches, stalactites begin to line the walls. Old enough to form, yet too young to prosper, these calcite embryos remained small snot drops dotting bits of dull concrete. Something about them felt dirty, as though they had gone mouldy over time. Greenish and yellow hues were the culprit. Lacking the crystal white ethereality of Peak Cavern’s White River, or the proud greeny-blue of Daren Cilau’s Blue Greenies; these formations felt timid in their colour, direction and size. Failing to impress even Charlie, whose prior formation experience consisted of flowstone ‘formations’ in the run up to Swildon’s Sump 1, they evoked mild consideration, before we took a turn and accidentally found ourselves at the entrance again. Without realising it we had gone in a circle and completed a round trip. Lovely stuff.
We went out the way we came, with Billy almost self-immolating on the exit by carbide inflicted wildfire. Weeds lining the roof of the squeeze had ignited at the touch of his light’s flame, leaving him in a race against the spread of fire to get out before burning dandelions rained Hell on the monastery trespasser.
Following behind, and slightly more gracefully, Charlie exited with ease. After a short moment of fear when the largest British spider I have ever seen decided to trigger my crippling arachnophobia by intently straddling along its web towards me, I exited behind him. Covered in mud, I embarked on the long walk back looking like a troglodyte, through and through.
Dan Rose
|
|
THE EXETER TUNNELS
Exeter underground passages.
Bristol isn't the only city that can boast of its medieval tunnels, as Linda Wilson and Jan Walker discovered on a visit to Exeter last year. when Linda was asked to give a talk at the museum about the Kent's Cavern Grafitti Project. Presented with an unexpected opportunity, the pair disappeared underground on a guided tour like a pair of (surprisingly smartly dressed) rats down a drain.
Beneath the centre of Exeter lies a surprising tourist attraction. A series of brick lined passages built to house the lead pipes that carried clean drinking water from springs outside the city walls to the cathedral bring built in the centre of the town. But the problem with water pipes is that they often spring a leak, and that happened in medieval times as much as it still happens today. To avoid the disruption caused by digging up the ground to get at the times, the city took advantage of the number out of work masons after the completion of the elaborate carvings on the cathedral and employed them to line a vaulted passage around the pipes with brick, creating an access tunnel that could be used for the inspection and repair of the water pipes.
Construction first began in 1346 to bring water to the cathedral, and later the city passage was built to bring water to the people of the city, not just the clergy. During the Civil War, a section of the tunnels was filled in amidst fears that they could be used to infiltrate the town. They were reopened after the war. The water system was redesigned in 1832 and the old lead pipes were replaced with cast iron ones. The tunnels gradually fell into disrepair, but were eventually opened as a tourist attraction in the 1930s.
The cost of a ticket is £7.50 and the visit is great value for money. The tunnels are entered via an underground visitor centre with informative displays of both history and archaeology. Visitors are given helmets then led into the passages in small groups. At one point, our guide offered our group the choice of two ways out, either back the way we'd come in a narrow, walking-sized passage or through an alternative route where the vaulted roof dipped to within a metre of the floor.
It got lower than that.
I'd dressed reasonably smartly as I was giving a talk in person that evening, but Jan and I automatically dived down the lower passage, with me muttering all the way about not wanting to get filthy. A few minutes later, as we'd been warned, the roof dipped and I ended up on my hands and knees, complaining bitterly about the lack of knee pads while I watched Jan go through at a crouch, One other intrepid tourist followed us, and the three of us rejoined the group a few minutes later, muddy and laughing loudly at our total inability to act like sensible adults and thoroughly enjoying a tour that didn't coddle the visitors too much.
I didn't do a very good job of cleaning myself up in the loos, but everyone at the museum was too polite to comment on my grubby knees. The tunnels provided a fascinating comparison to the conduits of Ravenswell, described above by Dan.
Linda Wilson
|
|
UBSS ONLINE LOG
A (very) short record of some of the trips in May. To save your activities for posterity, simply fill in a few brief (or not so brief) details on this form. See, it couldn't be easier! Photos can be emailed to your hard-working editors who will be fawningly grateful. If we've missed any trips, we can add them in next time. Thanks to Zac Woodford for making this form.
2.5.24. Hunter's Hole. Emily McAndrew, Jake Reich, Claire Missen, Merryn Matthews, Dan Runcan.
16.5.24. Rhino Rift. Mia Jacobs, Jess Brock, Merryn Matthews, Stanley Lewis. (Report included)
16.5.24. Swildon's Hole. Dan Rose, Billy Evans, Wayne Starsmore. Bailing Mud Sump.
19.5.24. St Cuthbert's Swallet. Dan Runcan, Simon Payne, Ash Gregg, Eva Hesketh-Laird, Martin Grass.
21.5.24. River Bend House Cave, Avon Gorge. Linda Wilson, Graham Mullan + 1.
23.5.24. Craig y Ffynnon. Ben Morgan, Dan Rose, Stanley Lewis.
25.5.24. Grove Cliff Caves, Ariel Cave, Portland. Jess Brock & others.
|
|
CAVING ON PORTLAND
Grove Cliff Caves, Portland.
Jess Brock recently sampled the delights of one of the country's lesser known caving areas, Portland in Dorset, with sea cliffs, tight rifts and the occasional close encounter with seagull chicks.
Date: 23rd May 2024
Team: Jess Brock, caving with Plymouth (Adventure and Expedition Society)
Photos: Jess Brock
Courtesy of my brother’s alumni status of A&E he invited me to join him and the Plymouth lot caving on Portland. In the name of club bonding I went as a model UBSS caver, a self-rescuer, a keen survey reader and top tier photographer.
On the Saturday we went to Grove Cliff caves which sit under the YOI prison and facing the sparkling blue waters of Dorset. We went in the first entrance we came to and descended into the rifty cave. The cave itself was a long rift with multiple entrances made of pale grey rock and occasional sticky gritty mud. Most of the time it was me wide and I was able to somewhat easily walk through. As we followed the rift we found fossils such as huge ammonites poking out of the rock with their imprints opposite. They were easily the length of my forearm!
We weren’t in this short for longer than two hours. Some of that time was spent pulling someone out of a tight bit of rift. They panicked and ended up shuffling further in. Luckily they were feet first and just needed a calm breath and a strong pull. Under the instruction of my brother I climbed into the rift over the stuck person and slung a sling under their thigh in order to unpin their hips and so my brother could hoik her out. I was practically standing upright in the rift with very little effort - very small! Like releasing the cork of a bottle of bubbly, we hoiked and she was freed, (and not traumatised, she went on to happily cave the next day!
|
|
|
|
Grove Cliff Caves, Clog 11, brought to you by Jess Brock's Cave Productions inc. Click the link above to watch the video.
|
|
On Sunday we tackled the infamous Ariel cave which sits 10m down the windy coastal cliff face of Portland.
As we waited for the pitch to be rigged on some beautifully shiny bolts we appreciated the sight of Chesil beach in the sun. Everything about this pitch terrified me, the gusting wind, the birds casually soaring past our heads, watching the white topped waves crash into the rocks that met them at the very bottom of the cliff.
If it had been in a cave I wouldn’t have thought twice about it! Not being able to truly see the extent of the pitch you’re about to take is somewhat calming - here everything was obvious in blazing sunlight.
After descending into the cave entrance I lay on the ground and caught my breath to one of the most stunning views. The cave continued into a crawl with an unexpected surprise of two seagull chicks who were astonished to see us going by.
The cave itself was made up of several intersecting rifts. With the aid of the fancy laminated survey provided by Plymouth, as the self-proclaimed navigationally challenged leader of Plymouth struggled to find the way on, I slipped into an almost letterbox crawl which luckily opened up to hands and knees crawling around the first bend as I led the seven of us into the cave. We wound our way towards Fairy Rift where there was promise of treasure. We crawled straight on from Piccadilly Circus towards Tangerine Rift then onto the Grand Canyon which had satisfying acoustics and some drippy flowstone. The treasure was found in an upwards corkscrew chamber and was worth all the rocky crawling. Fairy Rift held a lovely deposit of colourful straws, flowstone, helictites and even a little gour pool or two!
|
|
|
|
Ariel Cave, Clog 12, brought to you by Jess Brock's Cave Productions inc. Click the link above to watch the video.
|
|
|
The rest of the cave was much the same as we made our round trip back to Piccadilly Circus. A very dry cave, except for the entrance crawl which caked our gear in mud and bird deposits (which we were sure to hose off at home!) and an enjoyable trip with Plymouth!
Jess Brock
|
|
SRT IN THE WILD - HUNTERS' HOLE
Emily on the left, Dan and Merryn down in the darkness and Jake on the right. Photo by Claire Missen.
Merryn Matthews and Claire Missen kindly organised a Hunters' Hole trip to allow some of Jess’ SRT minions to experience single rope techniques in the wild and, needing a break from the deadlines, Dan Runcan accepted the offer.
Date: 2nd May 2024
Team: Emily McAndrew, Jake Reich, Claire Missen, Merryn Matthews, Dan Runcan.
Once parked by the pub, we checked the opening times as going to the pub after the trip was obviously essential, got kitted up and after improvising to account for some missing equipment we proceeded to the entrance. Merryn went ahead and started rigging and the rest of us followed.
From the entrance, we formed a line and we each waited for the bit of rope in front of us to be free to proceed on our descent. Being my first SRT trip, I was definitely a bit nervous. I started going down the first muddy climb, getting used to clipping into the traverse, and then I reached the first (and, I suppose, only) pitch. This was somewhat stressful as the stakes were now higher than when practicing in the SU. But I kept my calm, watched Jake descend before me and got on with it. Double and triple checking that I’d done everything right I started to descend and, while not as smooth as on clean rope, everything went well. After a rebelay and two deviations (we went down the Main Pitch) I reached the bottom.
While the rest were still coming down, I started to explore some of the passages at the bottom, aiming for the only one that was supposed to be interesting. Of course I missed it and visited the other two muddy dead ends first, before coming back to meet everyone else and identifying the right way. I took a break while the rest were exploring the passages I'd just come back from. Claire and Jake started going up to rig an alternative route and Emily, Merryn and myself started going down, following what we thought was the right way, in search of what the description called a well decorated passage.
Left: Claire up on the ledge and then below left to right: Jake, Merryn, Emily and Dan. Right: mud art. Drawing by Dan Runcan.
Everything was straightforward except for a bit of an awkward climb; but after some back and forth, everyone safely came down. We reached the highlight of the cave, a small chamber right before Gas Street with the walls covered in mud sculptures (see sketch) depicting cocks, naked women, wizards, club names, some of which we apparently hate, and dates, the oldest of which was 1993 I believe - all pretty impressive. I led the way forward through a bit of an unpleasant crawl and decided to turn around when the passage became even tighter and wet. I’m still not sure if we reached the end of the cave or we stopped just short of it and the supposedly well decorated passage, but perhaps the sculptures were the attraction all along.
We returned to the bottom of the pitch conscious of how late it was but, as Jake was not done with his rigging quite yet, we stacked rocks while waiting. Emily started going up the way we came and, after Claire adjusted Jakes’s slightly too big Y hang, they were both down and I started going up the alternative route. Me, Emily and Jake headed straight out while Merryn and Claire de-rigged. We quickly changed to get to the pub before the kitchen closed. Succes! We managed to get there a few minutes before the last order. We all reconvened in the pub and had a wonderful and very tasty evening meal together!
Dan Runcan
|
|
THE RHINO ROCKETS
Stanley Lewis and Mia Jacobs (and a kazoo) posing for the camera.
Stanley Lewis explains why watching the Descent (in case you're wondering, the description B movie is too kind, think Z movie instead) before a Rhino Rift trip isn't wise, especially if you're the one doing the de-rigging.
Date: 16.5.24
Team: Mia Jacobs, Merryn Matthews, Jess Brock, Stanley Lewis.
I’ve always wanted to do Rhino Rift. Not really sure why specifically. Maybe I just liked the look of the key. Maybe it was a pure excitement and passion for caves. Maybe it's just because the name would be a brilliant title for a gay caving smut series; but who really knows? Anyways, I wanted to be there and after much corralling, nudging, messaging and prodding I finally managed to organise a trip up to Rhino Rift and with a lumberjack, a worm and a complaining dorsettite in tow.
We trudged through the rotten ash forest as Merryn excitedly pointed out which trees she had cut down last time we went volunteering and after a less than polite negotiation with the lock, the door swung open and we scuttled inside. The passage went straight down, with an eerily reminiscent vibe to the final scene of the Descent, creating a feeling of unease amongst the group. This continued as a sharp right took us down to the first pitch, however once ropes started to be rigged, the kazoo got beginning humming its harpiscal melody (the indiana jones theme song) and the mood shot right up.
A lot of this trip involved me waiting with Mia. This meant a lot of this trip involved Mia and I trying as hard as possible to piss each other off. First, she blew the kazoo at full volume into my ear. I decided an appropriate revenge was a swift nudge to the knee and a slightly contentious topic about her quality as president. This was not taken kindly but I'll spare you the details for now. The first pitch began with a short traverse after which followed an immediate descent onto a hanging re-belay. After this is cleared, you drop into darkness with only a mildly acrobatic deviation in your path to the bottom.
Stanley Lewis putting Jess' training into practice.
Next you wait upon a drippy ledge. If the person in front of you is vertically challenged, you may enjoy watching them struggle to acrobatically manoeuvre their way onto the next pitch. My favourite part of this was when I moved onto it, reached out and grabbed the rope in a single swift movement. Some may say I had a genetic advantage but to be honest, I think this is irrefutable proof that I am much better at SRT than Jess. This descent follows a sloped wall and feels shorter than the other two, however the most thrilling part in my opinion was the third pitch, which was completely exposed. In the middle my fingers began to cramp from the combination of a dry rope and (old model) stop, leading me to briefly contemplating down prussiking the rest of the way. I quickly expelled this idea as horrifically inefficient and likely slightly boring.
The obligatory atmospheric shot.
The bottom of the third pitch is a tall and narrow chamber with scenic cracks embracing its walls and crawling down towards the bottom of the cave. On this occasion, we decided to skip the rest, but indulged in a snack break and photoshoot instead. On the way up, I was suspended from the top of the third pitch head for about ten minutes and as I looked down at a very cold Merryn below, I wondered why I put so much trust in a single rope to hold me up from a likely grizzly and very brutal death. We slowly ventured towards the top and on the final pitch. I was derigging which meant I had to wait at the bottom, ALONE.
Does Stanley look scared? Nope. Definitely not. Mia (left), Stanley (centre), Merryn (right).
This may not seem so scary to you, however, having just watched the Descent this was a truly terrifying experience. I could have sworn I heard the monsters creeping about just beyond my torch's grasp. As I heard the call of rope free at the top, unclipped the crab and slugged up the rope at a truly deafening speed. Once I had assured myself I was out of reach of the ghouls gathering below, the rest of the climb was a breeze. A tricky negotiation with the deviation led to a swing across the passage and a scramble to the top. Merryn and I walked back to the car, over the rickety bridge and were met by what appeared to be Mia and Jess dogging in my car. Overall it was a fun trip. Took about six and half hours and we even managed to not miss a lot this time.
Stanley Lewis
|
|
|
|
The Rhino Rockets, Clog 10, brought to you courtesy of Jess Brock's Cave Productions inc. Click the link above to watch the video.
|
|
DAM GOOD FUN
St Cuthbert's Swallet has a reputation for being a tad strenuous in places, but Dan Runcan was pleasantly surpised by his first encounter with the entrance rift.
Date: 19th May 2024
Team: Ashley Gregg, Merryn Matthews, Eva Hesketh-Laird, Simon Payne, Dan Runcan, (led by) Martin Grass (BEC).
Photos: Merryn Matthews
After long negotiations by Simon we finally got the date and a leader for a trip down St. Cuthbert’s Swallet, Priddy, and we were all excited for the trip. Because of SU opening times (SU opens at 10 am on Sunday) we arrived a bit late to the Belfry where we met Ash and our leader Martin Grass but Martin was not in rush so everything was fine. However, as a general rule, please do arrive on time for booked leader trips!!
We headed for the entrance, had to close a small dam to stop the water flow down the entrance shaft of the cave and went in. We soon arrived at the entrance shaft which is a well-known part of the cave for being a fairly tight and awkward rift. In reality I would say it’s not as bad as it might seem. After this, we went down number of fixed ladders to reach a more horizontal level of the cave.
As the survey might suggest, the cave is complicated and mazy so I can’t really say I know the exact way we went. However, there are a number of impressive chambers and formations. Some of the prettier ones are the Cascade, the Balcony and the Fingers. Other important features are some massive boulders in some of the chambers named after the highest peaks in the world.
We slowly made our way towards the first sump and had some fun sliding down a chute Martin directed us towards after noticing how much we had previously enjoyed sliding down the Rabbit Warren. Right before a climb of a stalagmite boss leading to Gour Hall, Eva mentioned not feeling too well. She took some medicine and we decided to keep going as we were close to the end of our trip, Sump One. Near the stalagmite boss an unpleasant sight met us. Some of the stalagmite flows were covered in a black substance that, based also on smell, appeared to be gasoline. The leak was apparently quite recent and the source of it was not yet known.
We soon reached Gour Hall, an impressive chamber with big gour pools and stalagmite flows rising for several meters towards the ceiling, and then Sump One after which we started heading back. We slowly made our way back making detours to different routes and formations. Martin also mentioned an alternative route along Catgut Passage which led to a discussion of the uses of catgut. After the trip, Martin phoned us to confirm that catgut is used for sutures; note, it was also used in the production of cords for musical instruments; and importantly, catgut is not made out of the guts of cats but of other animals like sheep or cattle.
Before taking the last detour to see some formations, Eva seemed to be feeling even more miserable than before and so, on her request, we decided to head straight out. The way out was fairly straightforward, following the way we came in, up the fixed ladders and the entrance rift. While being a tired and cold at the end of a trip can make the entrance rift more unpleasant, I did not find it as bad as I thought it would be. There are decent footholds for most of the way and the rift is not that tight. The only slightly challenging bits are two sections of about two metres with no footholds in which you have to slowly shimmy your way up pushing against the walls until better support is reached.
Ash and I pulled the ladder out and got out of the cave, Ash nearly being met by the full streamway that Simon unleashed by opening the dam with us still inside for a bit of innocent fun. Overall a successful trip and a great cave I will definitely go back to.
Dan Runcan
|
|
A (TRAGIC) TALE OF TWO WELLIES
Ben sporting the buffed welly (left). Not Ben Sporting the stylish yellow wellies (right).
On the Welsh weekend last month, James Hallihan ventured into Daren Cilau and is able to confirm that caving is much easier when your footwear doesn't disintegrate.
Date: 13th April 2024
Team: James Hallihan, Ben (Brum), Oli (AKA Not Ben, Brum), Charlotte (also not Ben, NUCC).
Planned over a few beers in the common room of Whitewalls, we began the crawl into Daren Cilau at 9am. Hopes were high for our adventure to go to Hard Rock Café and find the Helibeds. Laughing and joking we made good progress through the crawl (although nothing like Charlotte’s past best of 20 minutes!!), through Jigsaw Passage and eventually to Big Chamber Nowhere Near the Entrance.
After a short wait, the group bouncing the Blue Greenies (Lara (MUSC), Ellie (MUSC) and Sam (MUSC?) reached us and we continued on our merry way as a seven to the ladder. There, we decided to split again and we carried on enjoying the highs of Daren Cilau and reached the awe-inspiring Time Machine. Shortly afterwards we began hearing the pained grunts from Ben as his ancient club wellies slid off from every rock and bashed his ankles. Bonsai Streamway provided little relief in spite of the incredibly well decorated walls.
The Darren Cilau services sign was a sight for sore eyes as we rested and checked on the state of Ben’s wellies, a small hole had appeared on the right ankle. Once we felt sufficiently content, the final 2/3 mile of the way in began and almost too quickly we reached Hard Rock Café. Upon closer inspection, the slit had grown and the sole of the welly began to separate. Minutes later, the other group appeared and offered us a swig of their “Juice”. This turned out to be a delicious mixture of Lara’s home-made pineapple mead and spiced rum. Over this, we came up with an idea to protect Ben’s welly, in the absence of duct tape, we tied Ben’s buff around the welly. After a toilet break in the (what I thought was the well-known) toilet sump, we departed leaving the other three to continue their trip. It took us just over four hours to reach Hard Rock, it would be another 11 until the other group would see the surface again.
The split worsens.
Unfortunately, all too quickly into our escape, Ben looked down and noticed that not only was his buff missing, but a hole had also begun to appear on his other welly! He decided to brave it and keep charging up the streamway. Due to the disintegrating wellies we made the sad decision to leave the Helibeds to another day. Upon reaching Time Machine, Ben came up with the idea to put his wellies on the wrong feet so the safe inside of the wellies was protecting his sore outer ankles. It was also around this point the delusions struck and we concluded that if you really think about it, the entrance is just around a couple of corners from Time Machine and obstacles were fun so didn’t count in timings so it was only a few minutes away as well.
Surprisingly, Time Machine seemed to finish in no time at all and after nearly accidentally hanging myself on the climb out (don’t put yourself between a horizontal handline and the wall it is bolted to in case you slip), we walked and crawled around the corner to find the traverse and we all swore an entire passageway had disappeared as the ladder was genuinely just around the corner. Maybe the delirium really had set in. Resting at the base of the ladder we realised Ben’s ingenious idea had really only caused discomfort and torn a hole in both sides of his wellies, so bets were taken on how long the wellies would last.
The stomp and crawl back to Big Chamber Nowhere Near the Entrance flashed by (just around the corner) in a flash of rock and pained groans. Moral was still high as we passed around the final corner (or maybe it was several, who knows?) and reached the crawl and to everyone’s surprise, both wellies were still intact. This was the last high point of the trip and moral plummeted as tired cavers entered the crawl. Unfortunately, our exit crawl was nothing to boast about, nearly an hour and three quarters to surface. Minutes in, I felt a softish object hit the small of my back and looked around to see a welly, cloven in two. They had finally given up the ghost and Ben was throwing them forward.
We made our way on slowly, trying not to hurt Ben too much and taking maybe one too many rests and after what felt like an eternity, the Vice was reached. Charlotte flew through with ease and Oli/Not Ben entered next. He squeezed forward, then the grunting started, he realised he couldn’t crawl forwards or back. After a long time trying different techniques to unstick him, we managed to move him forward enough to remove his welly, his foot could now move back enough to lever his knee free and he could escape, until the second welly got stuck! After much less effort, this welly was freed and we could continue. I can honestly say I have never seen anyone so happy to see the Welsh rain a few minutes later as we finally reached the surface ten hours after saying goodbye to the sun.
James Hallihan
|
|
|
CRAIG'S YA UNCLE
The Hall of the Mountain King. Photo by Daniel Jackson. Distributed under Rls at the English-language Wikipedia, CC BY-SA 3.0, via Wikimedia Commons.
Stanley Lewis seems to have been in philosophical mood on a recent coach trip when he penned an account of a trip deep into Craig y Ffynnon in South Wales.
Date: 23rd May 2024
Team: Stanley Lewis, Ben Morgan and Dan Rose
Favourite part: Route-finding off gut instinct and distant memory
Collective calories consumed in 'spoons after (accurate): 8,636
Camus once said ‘there is but one serious philosophical problem, and that is caving. Judging whether life is or is not spent caving amounts to answering the fundamental question of philosophy. Well, I’m pretty sure it was that or something similar and less profound probably.
This might feel like an oddly philosophical start to a newsletter article but I think it was an oddly philosophical trip. As we rambled down Craig y Ffynnon’s impressively decorated passages, sneaking glances at nail bomb helictites and making lewd comments about suggestively modelled stalagmites, the vibe was jovial but introspective. We spoke about the worries and troubles that face us every day, the absurdity of caving itself and naturally recent degenerate adventures we had all been on.
The goal was to make it to the end and there would be little that stopped us doing that. Having been to Craig y Ffynnon a fair few times I seemed to be in charge of navigating and swiftly led us through to the Hall of the Mountain King. This meant sliding through some very muddy passages and at least three wrong turns but we made it there with good time and didn’t dare dilly dally upon arrival.
This was then proceeded by Severn Crawl, a 250m scramble down a muddy passage about as tall as a miniature poodle. This may have once felt like a quite a trying experience for me, but I was pleased at the ease to which I ignored my mashed up kneecaps and bleeding hands (my glove had a massive hole in it). Seems like I’m becoming a better caver with each trip that passes.
Straws in Craig y Ffynnon. Photo copyright Chris Howes and used with his kind permission.
Coming out of there means an amble down a passage at which point we were confronted with a snakes tongue fork and were unsure of which way next. Luckily I'dd had the foresight to print off a route description and immediately reached for it from my inner pocket, however in doing so discovered the crawl had disintegrated it.
Unfortunately this foresight was only gained about ten minutes before we got the SU, so the description was just plain paper, something which surprisingly does not hold up to water and mud all too well. From this point navigation was on gut instinct so right we went (the correct call). This passage led us to a larger chamber and then after a short walk, we encountered a large pile of rocks. Midway up lies a reasonable but missable opening that follows to the dough boulder choke.
At the end of this is a final little squeeze, however, it seemed a little tighter than I remembered. To be honest I didn’t remember a squeeze at all but I knew it was the right place so I tried again. Push all I might I just could not fit through. Dan made it up with some issue and Ben's lean climber frame didn’t struggle at all but it seemed I was well and truly stuck down there. What followed was a very painful ten minutes of pushing which ended in a failed attempt to use a rope and Ben as a human anchor to haul me up.
Helictites in Craig y Ffynnon. Photo copyright Chris Howes and used with his kind permission.
What we hadn’t realised is about a metre back there was a massive opening in the ceiling and I really did feel like an idiot when I saw it. On our way again we took a quick detour to see the pretties at Helictite Passage, then ventured on, down the 7 metre pitch, through the Promised Land and to the final chamber of the cave.
Overall it was a pretty fun cave. On the way back we got quite badly lost but ultimately managed to find our way each time, spurred on by the fear of being rescued by James and never being allowed to live it down. The only other occurrences of note was a sudden severe bout of dehydration I felt towards the end and when we briefly lost Ben 'cos we ran ahead too far. I’d certainly recommend the trip to anyone looking to do something a little more challenging that Mendip that’s a lot of fun, just prepare to get incredibly muddy along the way.
Stanley Lewis
|
|
AROUND THE BEND
River Bend House Cave. Photo by Linda Wilson.
Graham Mullan provides a teaser for some historical research into art, poetry and a lost cave in the Avon Gorge.
Building on work by Tony Boycott (our esteemed former librarian and archivist), and Robin Taviner (Mendip Cave Registry and Archive), I’ve been trying to track down a cave associated with a painting by JMW Turner and some poems by Robert Southey, all dating back to the turn of the 18th and 19th centuries.
As part of this, I wanted to visit River Bend House Cave (see Somerset Underground Vol 1) to rule it out of contention. This cave lies in the gardens of a large block of apartments called SeaWalls situated slightly downstream of the cliffs of the same name. The cave is almost vertically below the loo block on the cliff side of the Downs (no, there is no drainage issue!)
Linda and I visited the cave in the recent good weather to check it out and, most importantly, to check out the view downstream. We were allowed into the private garden by a lovely lady who runs the Residents’ Association who was very happy to allow us to clamber around and take photos, with Linda getting grubby, as usual.
To cut a long story short, we can rule this out as being the cave visited by Turner and Southey. Fortunately we already have a better prospect a little further along the cliff. The full history of these two sites will be in included in a paper in the next issue of our Proceedings.
Graham Mullan
|
|
LETTER TO THE EDITORS
In response to Jess's Top Tips in the last newsletter, Pete Smart commented that he would deal with some of the situations outlined by means of a botch, and went on to comment that...
... Having stepped off the top of a 110' pitch in Jamaica to feel 'a lack of support' I'm big on making sure that everything is really clipped into that monster crab on the sit harness. I think the point about botches is 'Keep calm BUT dont carry on until the botch is thought out and sorted!'. You are currently safe(ish) where you are. This works with wrong cows tails wrapped around re-belays, being unable to reach stuff set out by a much taller and more accomplished and athletic cavers, installing your petzl stop the wrong way up (I gave up and reverted to my rack afterwards) etc etc. Also works with cave diving, why do I not have air any more...
Pete Smart
|
|
GERALDINE GOOSE GOT HERE, DID YOU?
Our rat friend proved popular in the last news letter! If you have any suggestions for other animals you'd like to see in caves, do let us know, in the meantime, meet Geraldine Goose! And, please do keep your lovely comments coming in. They help us stay motivated. And there are prizes to be had if you need motivation ...
- Dear rat friend, I know we've had a turbulent relationship. We love you really, but you did eat all my stuff in the bathroom cupboard. I've realised you're not to blame, it's hard to resist a delicious feast of soap and tampons. Hope this message finds you well and we can rekindle our friendship. [Mia Jacobs]
- Wagwarn ubss I read to the end. [Dan Rose]
- I did get to the end again, and I LOVE the rat with the helmet! Keep going! [Hans Friederich]
- Excellent reading as always. [James Hallihan]
- I adored the rats! Very appropriate choices for the articles. 😊 Well done for the caving this month, and for knowing when to turn back and try again later. I fully support the online Proceedings; it’s been sad to read the messages from those subscribers who can no longer afford the postage price. [Jan Walker]
- I read to the end - although rats are a touchy subject in this household … Excellent range of articles and pix. I’m currently enjoying listening to the underground music recitation - cue facetious comments about sticking didgeridoos where the sun don’t shine (not the Forest of Dean!). And moving Proceedings online makes total sense. Every journal article I access these days is electronic. [Sharon Wheeler and the blessed FT Bear]
- Very sad to learn that Proceedings and paper are parting ways. There’s more to the subject than saving money, as I’m sure all know. [Chris Howes]
- Fantastic newsletter as always 😊 Nice to hear you enjoyed your Daren trip Billy (as I did mine) despite not reaching the end. Good luck for the next one! [Emily McAndrew]
- Awesome tales! [Merryn Matthews]
- I read to the end in El Salvador ! reading about your dusty dark adventures in beautiful tropical sunshine (sorry). Imogen Clement.
- I really enjoyed the rather more philosophical Swildons article by Daniel Rose. Great work, good sentiments. Keep up the good work. [Pete Smart]
Of course I got here, Geraldine, I'm no slacker!
THE END
|
|
|
|
