1st August 2026 - A morning's adventure

Needing a morning's adventure for eldest and his friend, a return to Middle Scar seemed to fit the bill. Donning wetsuits we were glad it was just a short walk from the van to the entrance, the relentless Yorkshire sun beating down as it has for weeks now. The extended dry spell even ensuring that you can leave the Ribblehead road and not immediately sink at least knee deep in bog.

With buoyancy aids on we negotiated the first couple of metres of dry passage and then slipped into the cool dark waters of the canal, the fixed lines allowing us to keep our upper bodies mainly out of the water and letting us pull our way swiftly through the deepest section.

This aqueous obstacle overcome the boys took the lead and we regrouped at the bottom of the short pitch up the waterfall. Despite the warming effects of the more rapid movement to this point, the boys had opted to keep their buoyancy on, the thick foam providing welcome insulation. It's worth noting that even after weeks of warm weather the deep, slow moving water remains stubbornly cold. As swiftly as I could I gained the top of the pitch and lowered a ladder and life line. I'd been wondering why the tackle sack was so heavy but then remembered I'd brought my Petzl Rig rather than my usual Stop. While it's undoubtedly a great device for belaying others, I do question that they've seemingly constructed it from osmium, not the best choice in terms of either price or mass.

Before the boys set off again I briefed them on the delicacy of the upcoming chert formations and how they needed to be treated like the jelly fish that they'd once been. I'd love to have a friendly geologist on hand to explain how these 'walls' had formed in such a multitude of directions.

The 'final' waterfall chamber reached we quickly about turned, needing to keep moving. Only the pitch caused a brief hiatus in our outward journey and we were soon back in the water by the entrance. I thought the shrieks from the boys were due to the temperature, but no, they were due to a drowned shrew bobbing by at face height. My shrieks though were due to the cold as I realised too late that I hadn't zipped up my wetsuit.

Emerging at lunchtime and with the modal age of the group being considerably lower than usual, Seasons bakery in Ingleton provided a more than adequate substitute to The Barn for apres cave activities. When asked whether they wanted to sit in the shade or sun to devour our sausage rolls the response was both instantaneous and unanimous.