21st August 2025 - Genuinely hardy? Er, no!

We've just come back from our summer holidays so the weather is now once again gloriously settled and I've still a bit more time on my hands allowing trips further afield from home. This combination meant that a trip to the Eastern Dales to visit a cave requiring dry weather was on the cards.

Sleets Gill seemed to fit the bill and so after some very fine strawberry cake at Mike's (his daughter has obviously inherited her mum's baking genes) we headed towards Littondale. It always feels a little strange donning layers of neoprene on a sunny afternoon in a dry valley, but fortunately the cave entrance lies only a few minutes from the car. It is though uphill and it's worth wandering up the right hand side (river left) of the gill to avoid the obstacle course of barbed and electric fences.

A small bag and walking pole at the entrance signalled that we weren't to be alone in the cave and we bumped into our fellow explorers at the foot of the peculiar scree slope that leads down into the darkness. One had been caving for over 50 years and the last time he'd been here was assisting with the infamous rescue in the early 90s. Where we were sat chatting would have been metres under water on that occasion though.

Mike and I are both fortunate still to be on our first set of knees so we left Phil and Richard to their photo trip and headed towards the main gallery. The Wharfedale sump seemed innocuous enough, a fair length of the dive line lay dry on the beach. Phil had said that on the day of the rescue when the two cavers had entered the water was knee deep at this point. Slightly reassured we carried on into the gallery, ticking off features as we went. The Bottom Connector and Boireau's passage were passed and noting the climb down to the lower levels, the sudden end of the chamber reached.

Backtracking 20 m from the choke we came back to the short climb down and the way on  to Hyperthermia and Hydrophobia passages. Initially it was just run of the mill caving until we came to a junction at which water was flowing from a small drain. This was the way on. 

Mike contemplating Hydrophobia passage

8-10 minutes can feel like a very long time and while in the past I've contemplated the difference between a 'hands and knees crawl' and a 'flat out crawl', I now fully comprehended the difference. My legs didn't seem to be able to do anything other than bob along behind me, my shoulders doing the lion's share of propelling me forward. It was ag this point I began to realise that something wasn't quite right. I wanted to take a photo of Mike in front of me. My camera was easily accessible at the top of a small tackle sack I was pushing in front of me, but for some reason it was just too much effort and I just kept on crawling.

Reading the description for the '68 series

Before though I had time to dwell on things the passage enlarged and we were once again confronted by another bizarre feature, The Ramp. While feature naming can be somewhat obscure and is often the result of in jokes, or needing to have been there at the time, the original explorers had it spot on with this one. If ever there was a need to bring crampons or ice axes into a cave then, forget high altitude abysses in the alps, this is it. While Mike confidentiality remained on his feet, I lay down and made like a worm hoping that one part of my prostrate body would stick long enough to make progress. 

The top of The Ramp saw the first formations we had seen jn the system and jolly fine they were, their pristine white a stark contrast to the water washed mud below. The descent of the slope was significantly easier than the ascent, the only thing required being to moderate your speed.

Mike at the top of the aptly named Ramp

Reacquainted with our bags which we'd left at the foot of the slope Mike read the next part of the description. It was time to don our hoods and have our masks at the ready. The black book describes the following sump as "an easy, 4 1/2 m long, free dive". In Rowten we'd dived a sump nearly twice as long so surely this couldn't be a problem, especially with it's reputed gin clear water.

I began my 'sump routine'. Helmet off, spit twice in each half of my mask, wipe, splash my face with water, mask on, then breath in through my nose to check the seal. Happy with my mask, helmet back on, turn on my secondary light and then head into the water. Content, I resurfaced, took a couple of breaths and dived. For the second time on the trip things didn't seem quite right. The Rowten sumps have a simple, almost tube like, geometry. You just pull on the rope and and through you go. There almost seemed too much to see here as you navigated through the flooded passage. The friction between the roof and my positively buoyant body wasn't helping either. There it was though, the exit mirror. I tried smashing through but was held back. Fortunately my head made it through into the thick air but the rest of my body was niw held. Somehow a loop of rope had formed round my ankle. It took a good few seconds before I had the presence of mind to slip back down into the water, allowing the loop to slacken and for me to free myself. Released and relieved I fumbled to get out my camera to record Mike's traverse of the sump. On surfacing Mike too questioned the definition of an 'easy' sump before continuing through the neck deep water.

The ducks beyond the sump