The Committee Go Caving!

Stephen Jones

Well after a term of intensive slackness, it was decided that the committee had better actually go caving -- especially after the 'interesting' experiences of Mendip I. So there was clearly a need for a Swildon's trip, as this is the standard Mendip cave in which there is nowhere to get lost and only one route along the streamway. At about 2 pm we were ready to go - an admirable ability to faff had now been proved. I even managed to leave my wellies in the hut -- maximum points for a 10 mile faff.

Down to Sump 1 by the short dry ways, where a party of other cavers told us the Mud Sump pump was of limited usefulness, and then on down to Sump One with only a thirty minute wait whilst the ladder was rigged. Well that was what we were there for.

Through the sump went Earl, Tim and Steve. Andrew and Rachel decided to head back out. The rest of us had a quick bash down to sump two and raced on out, as Andrew and Rachel would be waiting at the car. The only delay was to remove comedy foam from helmets after emerging from the sump. The pitch was climbed, Earl and Tim headed out whilst the Tacklemaster devoted himself to duty by removing the ladder and carrying it out. On his arrival at the car there he saw no lights. Clearly the other 4 were having a jolly jape. However, asking a couple of farm hands, they had seen no-one at the car. "You've left them down the cave and took the ladder away". "No I haven't". They clearly couldn't be still in the streamway.

So, back to the cave to find them. Car keys still at the entrance. Bugger.

Tedium loomed. Whizzed around the two Dry Ways and saw a light. Earl and Tim emerging from the Wet Ways. "Have you seen the others?" "What others?" Arse. Tim and Earl went back to the entrance to pick up the tackle, whilst an orangutan dashed back to the pitchhead. Hmm. People at bottom of pitch with no ladder. Vexation. Another sprint later and some extra rigging practice ensued, much to the delight of 'training officer' Tim. It emerged that the other 2 had taken a detour to Trat's Temple, leaving an ammo can at the entrance to Trat's as a signal. A cunning choice of signal as it was invisible from the streamway. And yes, the Mud Sump is still, well, sumped. The pump pulls water out just as fast as it flows back in. Useful. This much our intrepid explorers discovered.

They later discovered that a certain veggie had done the shopping, so there were no bits of dead stuff on the menu. This was the cause of much ranting, and a trip to Wells in the morning to buy some.

Something easier was needed for the cavers, so Longwood seemed sensible, especially as it hadn't rained for a day. The Letterbox caused the usual whines, after which the first pitch was duly rigged and descended. The right-hand route, predictably, was totally full of wet looking water, so we all took a shower and headed down the left-hand route. The bad step was quickly dispatched by all, and the belays on the far side were totally safe. And not held on by mud. Really. Traversed Great Chamber, through Christmas Crawl and Swing Pitch was seen. More water -- this looked to be the soggy sort too. Tim suggested some cunning rigging which avoided the water for almost the whole pitch. It also prevented any but midget infants being able to start the pitch actually on a ladder. The cascade at the bottom was exciting, and the streamway just on the right side of interesting. The end of the streamway was reached and Renold's passage beckoned. But not us. It's small, horrid and floods to the roof. No ta. Instead we decided to follow the landowner's instructions to lug out the none-too-modest-sized sheet of steel telling people not to flood Renold's Passage -- the landowner has decided that anyone attempting this passage is clearly stupid and deserving of a Darwin Award anyway.

Carting this particular bit of shopping up the stream was of limited fun. Up the pitch wasn't too bad. A group blouse again ensued regarding drowning ourselves in August series, which it was felt would not add to the trip. So the sign was duly carried across to the Bad Step ledge, where a traverse line was rigged and the sign strapped into a tackle sack and shoved across with all due precautions (we all hoped really hard that it wouldn't fall out). Rachel only explored one ridiculously tight blind passage on the way to the first pitch. At this foot of the first pitch it was decided we were running behind schedule so Andrew and I would cane out whilst Earl, Rachel and Timmo derigged the first pitch and shifted the sign out. Special congratulations to Steve's ammo can, which made it all the way down the cave and back again without being asked to take a single photograph. Rachel asks for the fact that on the walk back her hair froze solid to be recorded. So there it is -- it was chilly.

A really, really easy trip was needed for Monday. GB was decided on. They don't come much easier. Penny joined us for the day in a brand new, suspiciously clean oversuit. More of this later. Tim bloused in true presidential style. Much more of this later. Changing at Tyning's farm as usual - Earl decided that socks were not needed for the trip, but changed his mind after due contemplation. The departure of Sharon for the sock recovery left the changing ladies a little more exposed to the local builders than was ideal. Upon Earl's return, Andrew and I went into the cave via Devil's Elbow and rigged the drop here, the other 3 choosing Mud Passage. The Round Trip was then done, with the Art Gallery being detour of choice for the connoisseurs. This consists of an 'interesting' climb up flowstone/conglomerate for a long way above a big drop, followed by a muddy, scrofulous tube which pops out conveniently in the main passage. Less conveniently this happens 40 feet up the wall so you have to retrace your route through the mud and down the climb. Whilst coated in mud. Oh joy. We bimbled around the rest of the round trip and back out through Mud passage. Back to the car for a cup of tea and a brief wait. And a not so brief wait. And a drive back to the entrance, looking forward to changing back into oh-so-warm furries. Penny's oversuit, happily, shone brightly in the headlights -- they were all out. Back to the hut for dinner. And mulled wine. It was observed that we were at least eating regularly every 12 hours -- 11 am and 11 pm...

It was the last day. The weather was good (ish). We decided to investigate Eastwater Cavern. Seemed a good plan. Pack lots of tackle bags, take some caving gear to the changing barn, return to the cottage with Sharon to collect the tackle bags. Change. Go to the entrance. Discover one of the club lights isn't working so swap it for a couple of back-up lamps. At this point it was agreed that the entrance choke is really not that much fun. To be fair only one really big rock actually wobbled, but piles of boulders that have rivers in just aren't all that much fun. Across the Upper Traverse, however, is lots of fun. Really. 45°, low, bedding planes are just lovely to cross. Especially with a tackle bag. From here we progressed down Primrose Path. A small passage sloping at 45° -- fine on the way in even with tackle. Alas, Hallelujah Hole was less fine. There is a small way through and a larger way through. Experiment proved that Steve does not fit through the small way. Nor without a decent foothold can he extract himself after an attempt to fit through. Happily Andrew the Portable Foothold was there so an embarrasing cock-up was averted. More scroffling occurred as we shuffled across the Lower Traverse and down to the First Vertical. The traditional cave knitting was carefully converted from a pair of nice warm socks into a rope and Tim cheerfully wandered on to rig the Second Vertical from a particularly obscure bolt (about 20' from the pitchhead -- WHY??) Four people went down the pitch, then one person came back up, continuing on up the First Vert. Moved the longer rope from the First Vert. to the Second Vert. Then the last man could also come down the second pitch lifelined. Bonus. So it was that as Tim, Earl and Rachel headed up the pitch Andrew and I had only just gone down. The 13 Pots were universally acclaimed as wonderful fun -- the cave actually has some big passage? And not all at 45°?? In fairness they do average 45°, they just do it in steps rather than smoothly.

So whilst Andrew and I derigged and volunteered (oops!) to take the tackle out, the other 3 went out the way we came in. We had other ideas. Primrose Path with bags would be tedious, so we cunningly headed up the Canyon and Baker's Chimmney, lovely big passage all the way (well almost). Alas, a navigation error meant we ended up the wrong end of the Upper Traverse so this was repeated -- I can vouch that it's much better to have your tackle in your hand as when it's dangling between your legs you've just got no control over where it goes. The boulder choke was raining again - it's really rubbish with bags of stuff. It was raining on the surface. In fact it had rained hard for 2 hours whilst we were underground -- so Eastwater can't flood that easily, can it??

So what was achieved? Well we proved that the committee don't just rant, they do sometimes go caving. Lots of quotes were produced. Everyone got some rigging in, though, which was nice.

(all CUCC)

And last but not least : SHARON!! (Volkswagen)