With a short delay but memories still vivid am I going to present you with this narrative about our adventurous outing last Sunday. Quite some time ago Pete started to prepare us for a great day outdoors and indoors at the same time and this idea was to be materialised on Sunday. Pot holing was the activity and A-Cave-Somewhere-In-The-Yorkshire–Dales was a destination. Being to only a few caves before and most of them easy accessible, I did not know what to expect. My only previous experience with serious pot holing was from my local cave at home, called Dupna Diera, where apart from crawling, bending and squeezing through holes I have done a bit of a research on a cave fauna with my friend for a secondary school project.
This time we had a new member in our group, Claire joined us and hopefully she will linger with us for a long time! I started to sense the seriousness of the whole thing when we popped into the outdoor shop in Ingleton, where we hired helmets and belts and head torches and batteries. With all these attached to appropriate parts of my body, I felt extremely “sexy”, but with relief I noticed that my friends were not looking any better. Pete surprised with gorgeous bright orange overall, which he wanted to test before he would wear it on a night out in Lancaster. I want to be there then! Equipped and determined we made our way towards the cave entrance. First we passed Alum Pot, which is a “hole” about 50 metres deep and giving me goose pimples. There were several entrances to the Low Churn cave system, and to me it looked like we have made an arbitrary choice, but apparently Pete knew what he was doing (and we all sincerely believed he did!) Off we went, below the ground, with the beams of our head torches exploring the interior of the cave and our feet in omnipresent stream of water. My helmet saved me from scratches and maybe even a mild concussion, considering that every now and again I forgot that cave ceilings were tailor-made for dwarfs and hobbits rather than human weirdoes. Pete’s waterproof socks came very handy, but after I unwillingly ended up in the over-knee deep pool of water it did not matter any more. It was nothing like I have done before. Almost like scrambling, but underground. Later in the pub, we realised that the cave was a grade 3 difficulty level, 5 being the most difficult. We were walking through series of corridors of variable height and width, with series of cascades with deep pools of icy water. Adrenalin stuff. I cannot exactly imagine how groups of school kids, like those we met there, can absolve that without any injuries. This thought has stricken me particularly when we got to the spot called Cheese Press, one of the highlights of our tour. Very appropriate name, I have to say. Imagine a wall of solid rock about 6 metres thick. Then imagine that somehow, (water erosion-collapse of the rock perhaps?) the rock is not solid from the top to the bottom any more, as if the whole block was lifted up or the bottom sank, which resulted in the creation of passage, which is comfortably wide, but sooooo low, that it must be a claustrophobic person’s worst nightmare. The only way forward to the following open chamber is by crawling lizard-like, following a visible path well worn by countless bellies. The passage is only about 40cm high, so the helmet had to be taken off and pushed in front of me. Claire was the first one to go and she did very well, using a snake strategy, swinging her body from one side to the other. I followed, using an earthworm strategy of pushing myself forward on the tips of my boots. It was time for our gents to give it a go and I was a bit worried, since Pete had said that he did not manage to get through on his last visit. Fortunately, both he and Spider squeezed through, using survival strategy. Then there were some more corridors and pools before we got to the last open chamber with a big pool, called Someone’s hand basin. When we turned our lights off, it was really really dark, surprisingly! As dark as this:
This time we had a new member in our group, Claire joined us and hopefully she will linger with us for a long time! I started to sense the seriousness of the whole thing when we popped into the outdoor shop in Ingleton, where we hired helmets and belts and head torches and batteries. With all these attached to appropriate parts of my body, I felt extremely “sexy”, but with relief I noticed that my friends were not looking any better. Pete surprised with gorgeous bright orange overall, which he wanted to test before he would wear it on a night out in Lancaster. I want to be there then! Equipped and determined we made our way towards the cave entrance. First we passed Alum Pot, which is a “hole” about 50 metres deep and giving me goose pimples. There were several entrances to the Low Churn cave system, and to me it looked like we have made an arbitrary choice, but apparently Pete knew what he was doing (and we all sincerely believed he did!) Off we went, below the ground, with the beams of our head torches exploring the interior of the cave and our feet in omnipresent stream of water. My helmet saved me from scratches and maybe even a mild concussion, considering that every now and again I forgot that cave ceilings were tailor-made for dwarfs and hobbits rather than human weirdoes. Pete’s waterproof socks came very handy, but after I unwillingly ended up in the over-knee deep pool of water it did not matter any more. It was nothing like I have done before. Almost like scrambling, but underground. Later in the pub, we realised that the cave was a grade 3 difficulty level, 5 being the most difficult. We were walking through series of corridors of variable height and width, with series of cascades with deep pools of icy water. Adrenalin stuff. I cannot exactly imagine how groups of school kids, like those we met there, can absolve that without any injuries. This thought has stricken me particularly when we got to the spot called Cheese Press, one of the highlights of our tour. Very appropriate name, I have to say. Imagine a wall of solid rock about 6 metres thick. Then imagine that somehow, (water erosion-collapse of the rock perhaps?) the rock is not solid from the top to the bottom any more, as if the whole block was lifted up or the bottom sank, which resulted in the creation of passage, which is comfortably wide, but sooooo low, that it must be a claustrophobic person’s worst nightmare. The only way forward to the following open chamber is by crawling lizard-like, following a visible path well worn by countless bellies. The passage is only about 40cm high, so the helmet had to be taken off and pushed in front of me. Claire was the first one to go and she did very well, using a snake strategy, swinging her body from one side to the other. I followed, using an earthworm strategy of pushing myself forward on the tips of my boots. It was time for our gents to give it a go and I was a bit worried, since Pete had said that he did not manage to get through on his last visit. Fortunately, both he and Spider squeezed through, using survival strategy. Then there were some more corridors and pools before we got to the last open chamber with a big pool, called Someone’s hand basin. When we turned our lights off, it was really really dark, surprisingly! As dark as this:
The only way out was up a rather impressive waterfall, which we conquered with more or less confidence and on this occasion Pete’s waterproofs were tested heavily, since Spider climbing ahead of him stepped right in the middle of the stream and remained there for some time oblivious of all the water splash coming right onto Pete bellow. When we reached the surface again, I regretted it was over, because it was superb and I think all my companions would agree with me on this one. In terms of the interior decoration, the cave was way behind what I’ve seen in Slovakia, you could occasionally spot tiny stalagtites on the ceiling, but that was it. Yet it was fascinating experience, a different dimension, a novelty uncovered and dangerously hooking. Where is the next cave then?
Still the best bit was yet to come! Following good old tradition we stopped at the pub called The Hill Inn to quench our thirst with a well-deserved drink. This pub is popular with pot holers for it features a real pot holing “simulator”. Nailed to the wooden planks separating two seating areas is a huge wooden wheel with twlwe wooden spokes dividing a circle into thirteen “pizza pieces”. It does not take too many beers before someone gets the idea to attempt to squeeze between the spokes of the wheel. And the tradition was born. According to the bar staff, this has been going on for several decades now and I would never forgive myself wasting a chance and leaving without giving it a go. We also got a bit of guidance, such as “choose the well-worn 8. hour, go head first, twist your hips and hold your legs horizontally”. Easy to say, not so easy to do. This time I was a brave one. I chose 6. hour and head first approach. After the initial struggle and realising that I have to squeeze in both my arms before my head, I proceeded successfully up to the point where I got stuck, well, ehm, on my chest. For the first time in my life I thought my breasts are too big! Eventually I managed to pull myself forward only to get stuck further down the way, this time on my hips.Somebody once told me I am a curvy girl, so there we are! After a bit of twisting and turning I was through, performing the same act as 25 years ago when I was trying to get out of my mum’s belly curious about what’s waiting for me out there. Claire followed with more-less the same difficulties, since we are of a similar size and figure. Our gents were a bit reluctant after what they’ve seen, but they both tried, bless them. Pete gave up when he was about half way through and so did Spider. One would have thought it would be their manly chests stopping them but the real obstacle was a bit lower…hehe. It was a great fun to watch. Only when Spider tried to reverse his torso and realised that would not work and it obviously was causing him pain, I realised that laughter is no more appropriate. Fortunately, he did not get to the stage some other people did, when they had to be undressed, buttered and pulled out! Just the thought of it makes me feel like rolling on the floor. A notice on the wall said that one guy was so determined, he fractured two ribs in order to get through! We are not as mad as that, we did it for a crack of it. Besides, breaking bones in the pub after surviving the cave would be pathetic.
So that was my Sunday, JUST THE WAY ******** I LIKE IT************ :))
Spider at his best
Pete contemplating the approach with Claire looking forward to have a bit of a laugh
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