Thursday 20 December 2018

20th December 2018 - The forgetfulness spell

My excuse is that it's the end of term, but I don't think we've ever forgotten as much on a single trip before.

Once again it was wet and as we're beginning to run out of wet weather options, I decided I'd like to go on a trip to practice taking photos on pitches. The most convenient place I could think of and a place I always enjoy going, Bull Pot of the Witches beckoned.

While changing Dick realised that he'd forgotten his helmet.  Fortunately though he had with him a prototype, kevlar reinforced, caving flat cap. Though the stiffened brim serves as a handy place on which to mount a candle, Dick also had a new headtorch he wanted to test and so eschewed the more traditional form of illumination.

After inspecting the fantastic new interpretation board at Bull Pot Farm, we took the short stroll to the pot's style and carefully traversed around and down to the entrance tunnel.

Free climbing the pitch saw us swiftly at the bottom of the open pot and heading down to the continuation pitches. Dick descended,  positioned flashes and partly reascended while I placed another flash and prepared to take a few shots. With the shot perfectly composed I pressed the shutter.  The flashes fired and for a split second the finest caving photo I've ever taken was displayed on the camera's screen. I had only just started to revel in its artistic perfection however, when it was replaced by a stark black and white message, "No memory card".

Accepting it was just one of those days and with the upside that all the pitches had been beautifully rigged by members of the CDG, we set off for an explore. The streamway was no place to be, so we visited the long gallery and had a bit of a ratch around before returning up the main pitch. I love the fact that I struggle to work out just how this cave is all connected.

The Barbon Inn was doing a roaring trade, a group who I presume had been young farmers a number of years previously were having a great night out and we're fully dressed for the occasion. As always we were warmly welcomed, but did quickly head for the quieter room, next to the fire.

On leaving, the party in the main bar was in even fuller flow and I hate to think what the gentleman stood on one of the tables was about to do with the stuffed (taxidermy not sage and onion) pheasant he was brandishing.

Merry Christmas to one and all.


Tom Phillips said...

Caving in flat caps these days?

Alistair said...

They're stocking them in Inglesport now!

Tom Phillips said...

Very retro!