An aligning of planets meant that I was able to get to Kirkby a bit earlier than possible offering the opportunity for a trip further afield. Unfortunately planetary alignment doesn't seem to affect atmospheric conditions on Earth and with the weather not playing ball we opted for a more local trip that could be completed in slightly damp weather.
We'd been on a Manchester themed Ease gill trip before and really enjoyed it. It's a trip that has a bit of everything, an edited highlights trip to showcase what the system has to offer. With this in mind Mike wanted to reacquaint himself with the navigation so that he could take friends and family in the future.
County laddered we set off downstream from Broadway past a shower bath in full power shower mode. The step up to the right was taken and the usual, "Which way is it to the Manchester bypass?" rigmarole undertaken.
A few years ago I bought a very lightweight caving under suit. Not for trips to warm foreign climes (though it has since come in useful for that), but for ensuring that I don't suffer from severe dehydration as I sweat out litres of water trying to follow Mike through Easegill. As soon as Strava makes it to the subterranean world I'm confident he'll be at the top of the leaderboard for quite a few Ease gill segments. Sadly the suit in question was tucked snuggly away at home in my caving drawer.
A sweaty mess with stingy eyes I arrived in the expanse of the Main line terminus and Mike was off already weaving an optimal route through the boulder strewn chambers of the high level series. We're getting quite good at locating the boulder behind which the Mancunian Way is secreted and the floor of the crawl quickly became reassuringly sandy, we were definitely in the right place.
At the end of crawl, next to the lovingly built clay brick wall, complete with model workman our memories failed us (or at least mine did). Fortunately this route is covered by one of the excellent Braemoor descriptions and we knew we wouldn't be puzzling over the way on for long.
Reassuringly there wasn't a dribble of water going down Easegill aven, an indicator that the return to County should be possible, so we donned our Brooks's Finest (a lot better than Tesco's Finest) slings and HMS krabs to descend the short pitch. Oscillating between passage we remembered and passage we didn't recall, the description kept us true till we arrived at a slot on the left from which the stream ensued. "Just follow the water, the first bit's the worst", said Mike and off I went. After a few metres the roof did rise a bit, but ahead it lowered ominously once more, the foam on the roof doing little to ease my nerves. Well it is quite damp I thought so the water'd be a bit higher and so I pressed on.
Trying to breath just out the corner of my mouth and ignore the foam tickling my nose I tried to keep my breathing steady, the water running down stream towards me now starting to back up and narrow the useable airspace even further. Could I roll onto my back and "ceiling suck"? Just as things started to get silly, the roof began to rise and soon I was able to kneel and get things back under control. With air no longer a concern I now began to worry about how cold I was.
A few years ago I bought a neo fleece. A fantastic invention, your core wrapped in thick neoprene and your limbs unencumbered but kept warm by thick fleece. Perfect for situations such as this. Sadly the suit in question, along with my neoprene boxers, was tucked snuggly away in a bag in the van.
OK, chilly but not freezing and the passage now beginning to open up, a quick stomp would soon have me back to normal. "Al?", was faintly heard from back beyond the aqueous passage. I've known Mike long enough now to read a bit more nuance than just the word might suggest. I didn't think I'd like the next bit. "Wrong way". There was no nuance in this, it was back into the water. Thankfully going downstream there was more airspace as the water wasn't backing up.
The cobbled passage now on my right suddenly came into recollection, Dismal junction. It wasn't pleasant but so much better than the continuation in the main stream. Time for a stomp. Platypus Junction, Toadstool Junction all flew by and we were soon up the little climb from Broadway and at the foot of our ladder. The climb increased my temperature further and Mike had soon tamed the ladder back into a manageable coil for our now rapid exit from County.
Our conversation as we crossed the moor was slightly more reflective than the new posts that have appeared, the older ones seemed significantly easier to see, but we were soon back at the farm. On the drive too and in the pub much of the chat was about what a great trip this is. The evening was finished to perfection by the free hand moisturiser outside the posh shop in Kirkby and by Mike getting the pizza in.
