P8 and Pink Llamas

by Duncan's Mum

"Can I ....come underground with you?"
"You won't like it"
"I won't be a nuisance"
"It's miserable"
"Can I come?"
"You won't strip off in a lay-by"
"But ... "

One Sunday afternoon after a swift sojourn to The Wanted Inn, I revealed my pink llamas to the motorists driving along the B6061. Cavers I soon noticed come in three sexes, male, female and androgenous. Wearing lipstick to match my llama patterned tights I donned gear borrowed from someone of approximately my dimensions, and set off with six other novices and three old lags across the rough field track to P8. The entrance appeared to be a chair-seat sized hole with a stream running down. "You can't go down there", muttered my daughter.

But ...

After a final gear check, Sean led the way and down we went. It was everything I had been led to expect and more, cold, miserable, hard work, thrilling, challenging and magical.

The wet dark corners made me feel as if I were inside a deep dark animal. Time passed unnoticed, fatigue crept quietly upon me as my wellies filled with water and it was only when confronted with idiot's leap on the outward journey that I realised how far fatigue had advanced.

In the two and a half hours below ground I had thrutched, stomped, crawled, climbed and got soaked through. Suddenly the air changed from dank and steamy to crisp and dry; like a startled rabbit I popped out of P8 to see a beautiful starlit sky. Triumphantly we novices trudged wearily back to the lay-by marvelling at our first trip underground.

In the darkness my now muddy pink llamas and mud smeared lipstick were invisible to passing motorists, and as the gear was checked and stowed, a voice in the darkness said "Yorkshire next week-end."

I really, really wanted to say "Yes me too."

Thanks for the experience CUCC.