Thursday Night Club

20th January 2012 - Wet Wetched Wabbit

2012-01-20T23:09:00.006Z

Perhaps we're just getting used to it. After what seems like months of grey, wet conditions with only a few crisp days respite, we just didn't think it would be this wet. Admittedly we'd changed our plans due to the forecast rain, but the "puddles" encountered driving along the Lune Valley came as a bit of a surprise.

Heading up to Bull Pot Farm, rain was exchanged for fog and the only reason we got changed in the van was "because it's there". Walking over the moor, trying to pick put the reflectors on the posts, the slight drizzle was hardly worth mentioning, not one of those days when it's impossible to wear to glasses if you want to see anything at all.

We weren't expecting Easegill to be dry, but crossing and recrossing to avoid the steep section of bank by County was definitely more interesting than usual. The plan was to head down Wretched Rabbit to drop into Spiral Staircase passage to take some pictures of the pretties in there before returning to photograph the climbs on the way back out.

Dick not heading down Spiral Staircase passage (the route of all the water).

We quickly dropped down the climbs, delayed only by Dick's attempts to free me from the tackle sack on my back that jammed as I was sliding down one of the climbs. Fortunately the emergency eject system on the sack was fully functioning and with the tearing out of the bottom of the sack, I was released down the climb (note to self: don't do this again). Traversing through the rift the sound of water grew ever louder and a surprisingly large waterfall greated us at the climb down to Spiral Staircase. While it still looked possible, it didn't look pleasant and so we made a quick change of plans. Down to the main streamway, a look up County and back out the way we came. Leaving the camera and flashes in their torn bag we set off meandering down to the main stream.

We met the stream a bit sooner than we expected and as we made our way down to the junction, it was an eery sight that lay before us. Normally a big fast flowing stream makes lots of noise, but this rapidly moving mass of water was almost silent. Strange noises reminiscent of sumptuous sump sounds the only accompaniment. The grass and foam in the roof testament, that while the water levels were high now, they'd been much higher. Our mud cubes gave us an estimate of the rate the water was rising, a couple of inches in the ten, fifteen minutes we sat watching. Unsurprisingly now, our attempt to head up the County passage was quickly curtailed and the only safe way on was back up Wretched Rabbit. Passing the entrance to Spiral Staircase once again, we were very glad we hadn't gone down it, the waterfall cascading down it now even more of a torent.

Ascending the first climbs

Dick was very patient on the way back up the climbs, dangling on the ropes while I messed trying to compose shots and then scurrying back down them to switch on the flashgun that I'd forgotten to turn on and then again on multiple occasions to point it in different directions.

The final climb out of Wretched Rabbit

Emerging back into the open there was still no more than drizzle in the air, but the gill had risen significantly and the crossings were even more interesting than on the outward journey. Things had changed in the Barbon Inn too. While we were able to sit in our favourite seats, the nice fire and fireplace had gone, replaced by a little electric heater that wasn't very good at looking like a woodburner and even less effective in heating terms, blowing cold air up my trouser legs. These were very recent changes as the paint on the walls was still wet and the painters were still at the bar. Nice pint though.

13th January 2012 - Hardrawkin Pot

2012-01-14T09:45:00.006Z

Dick enjoying the liquid refreshment on offer at the sump pool

Having to meet up later than usual, I'd had a look through the rigging guide for a short trip, not far from the road. Hardrawkin pot with its two short pitches and almost en suite pub seemed to fit the bill. As I'd never heard of it, in fact I'm not sure I can even pronounce it, I wasn't expecting much but as they say, even a bad caving trip is better than a good day in the office.

Changing in the car park above the Hill Inn another car pulled into the lay by and two other cavers began to get changed, their objective the same as ours. Hardrawkin was quickly changing from an unknown pot to the busiest in the Dales.

The short walk was stunning, under a clear, starlit, moon free sky we crunched through the frost on possibly the finest night of the winter so far. The entrance was soon located and Dick made short work of the initial climb down to the stream.

Almost immediately the quality of the trip is apparent with some beautifully shaped passageway, decorated with moon milk. The occasional crawling sections and right angled corners adding further interest.

The first pitch soon arrived along with the realisation that the bolts in this cave had been put in by somebody just an inch or two taller than me. It didn't help that the other two cavers had also arrived at the pitch head and performance anxiety had me firmly in its grip.

As soon as the y-hang was above me, a smile spread across my face. This is a great pitch. Searching for a natural or two to provide deviations to prevent a real soaking, revealing a stunning white gully entering the main shaft. "Rope free" and a quick scurry away from the spray lashed base of the pitch.

On Dick's arrival we decided to use the tail of the rope to descend the first of the little cascades that follow, though god sent holds make the others pure joy. The second and final pitch is soon reached and once again I wished I was just a little bit taller. An uninterrupted descent brings you to the sump pool and once again I quickly left the spray to find a drier vantage point to watch Dick's descent.

Ever the experimentalist, Dick made sure that it really was a flooded shaft at the pitch foot, before it was time to once again turn upwards.

The waterfall meets the sump

Starting the prussik back up

Returning up the second pitch

It always amazes me how little water it takes to produce ominous booming sounds and the return up the pitches was just as exciting as the descent. Not sure if it was the other two returning up the streamway above, but the water flow was far from steady, occasional pulses making me glad I'd followed Dick's advice to put my hood up.

If you're looking for a quick trip and the water's not too high I can highly recommend a trip to Hardrawkin, the Kylie of Yorkshire pot holes and when you're done a warm welcome can be found in the Hill Inn too.

6th January 2012 - Boxhead Pot

2012-01-07T12:10:00.007Z

Dick near the entrance to Epiglottis Grotto

New years are generally associated with taking on new challenges and so for their first trip of the year, the TNC headed to Boxhead.

The first major challenge came in the form of getting to the Lost Johns' car park, the fog thick on the fell road, with seemingly vertical bits of road appearing out of the gloom in the headlight beams. The second challenge was finding the cave. Walk back down the road to the Lost Johns' gate. Tick. Go over the stile. At this point we realised we'd left the description in the van and so while Dick went to get it I set about finding the stile. As the stile was attached in traditional fashion to a fence, it wasn't too hard to find but then for the next instruction, walk 200m south. Fortunately Dick had picked up his phone with newly installed "compass" app and off we went counting our paces. We had travelled 199m according to the "GPS tracking" app when a halt was called and we felt quite pleased with ourselves, only problem was that there was no sink hole. While I commenced a box search, finding multiple sink holes by falling into them in the ever thickening fog, Dick was hard at work too and the "satellite imagery of where you're stood" app soon saw us at the pot.

We couldn't believe that we'd never been here before, the awesomeness of the pitches matched only by the digger installed plumbing. Following the Kendal flyover we soon arrived on a ledge, just above the bottom of Lost Pot Aven. Here the hoespipe split into two, one branch continuing down while the other headed into the Tate Galleries.

With hazily remembered directions we followed the pipe into the galleries, looking for Epilglottis Grotto. Knowing we had to turn right at some point we found ourselves traversing along the classically shaped and named Cresta run which eventually brought us to a handlined descent. Not remembering this from the description we turned around back to the last junction [having read the description since this handlined descent is the way on to Lyle cavern in Lost Johns'].

Going the "other way" we soon arrived at a pitch, which again we couldn't remember from the description [Crowbar pitch]. Just before this however was a small hole which Dick pointed out looked incredibly like an epiglottis. Sure enough a brief squirm lead to the fine Epiglottis Grotto.

We finally had a look at another dug passage [Venus or Serena??] before returning to the ledge and making the final descent to the bottom of Lost Pot Aven and yet another dig [Wet dig?]. There was a considerable about of water making its way down the climbs leading to the Tube so exploration of this was left for another time. It's not often that my lamp doesn't illuminate the majority of a pitch in Britain, but standing at the bottom of Boxhead's main pitch, the light was just swallowed, it really is an amazing place.

The return journey up the pitches became damper and damper, with water now flowing out of the footholes in the plastic pipe. I waited in here out of the wind and rain on the surface until Dick joined me and with the wind on our backs we once again found the wall that borders the road and with it the way on to the vans.

The Craven Heifer's quiz was in full swing when we arrived and it has to be said that the beer they're serving at the moment is very good and well worth a visit.

23rd December 2011 - bis Ihre Brustwarzen in kaltem Wasser

2011-12-24T10:32:00.005Z

Mince pies and brandy at Groundsheet Junction

Lee's mellowing with age and he no longer needs pitches of Titanlike proportion to fly over from Germany to go caving with us. Thus we found ourselves on Leck fell with three bags of rope and a pile of maillons for a trip into Lost Johns'.

Despite it's accessability I realised recently that I'd never been to the bottom of the pitches, trips over the years having involved different exchanges but never going further than the cross over points, well above the master cave.

Water levels as we drove up the Lune valley were high and the entrance series was definitely "active". While traversing the first big hole in the floor of the entrance passage felt a little airy it at least separated us from the water and we found ourselves in near silence. Near silence in that while the noise of the water had abated, we were left with a low frequency, almost subsonic, ominous, beating rumble.

At the first short pitch, Dick was at once in his element. While my maillon tightening and knot tying speed are best measured on the same time scale as cave development, Dick fluently passed bolts, leaving a thin yellow line in his wake. All the more impressive considering a later, over a pint admission, that without his glasses, it's all done by feel!

I was looking forward to the Battleaxe traverse and wasn't disappointed. Back and footing along the top of the meandering rift, with occasional glances of the stream far below really is impressive and the Valhalla pitch at the end of it is no anticlimax. Reaquainted with the stream in the form of a fine waterfall, the volume of the cave once again increased and we headed quickly for the final pitch.

Here we found ourselves having to traverse above the p-hangered route down in the maelstrom, a couple of older Petzl bolts providing the security that then allowed us to rejoin the normal route a little further along the streamway.

A short section of meandering stream then finally brought us to the master cave at Groundsheet Junction. A stomp down railway tunnel size passageway always feels the right thing to do after so much verticality and we headed downstream. As Lee pointed out, 10 minutes of walking along a stream like this would soon cement where the deeper parts of a stream are found at bends for any budding GCSE geographer.

The water level slowly increased and the roof level slowly decreased until I began to fear for my car keys which don't like cold water. Dick and Lee looked almost disappointed at this and only reluctently turned around. Walking up stream is definitely harder than walking down, but mince pies and brandy set us up nicely for the return up the pitches.

Lee discovered that it's also much easier to prussik up pitches if you leave behind rope filled tackle sacks for the poor sod behind you!

Would you like a hand with carrying that rope?

Actually it's easier without it.

25th November 2011 - Descent Part III

2011-11-26T10:52:00.006Z

So technically it should be part II, given that this was only our second trip to the abandoned copper mine workings above Coniston, but someone's already used the name for a high concept film exploring the human condition using a caving trip as a metaphor for a search into the parts of our psyche usually deeply hidden in the shadows, oh and it has monsters and lycra clad, ice axe brandishing girls in it too.

While we didn't actually see any monsters, something had definitely been knawing at the rope leading deeper into one of the veins. At least it was anchored to a bomb proof railway line.

Though the vastness of some of the stopes on the Hospital level gave witness to the riches that had been found in these hillsides, lengthy tunnels to nowhere reminded us of the days and weeks of hopefull toil, following a thin, mineral vein that yeilded no viable reserves of ore.

Reading Paul in awe of the ore.

Emerging into a wild night it was off to sample the wares of the Black Bull, a great pub with the further advantage of it's own en suite brewery. Fortunately they also do carryout, so after a pint we could relocate to our campsite for the night at Tilberthwaite.

The Met office warning of high winds and torrential rain had the softer members of the TNC scurrying home to write blogs, while those hardened to the elements set off with Reading Paul for a day's mountain biking at Whinlatter.

18th November 2011 - Miss Marple Investigates

2011-11-19T14:06:00.004Z

Given that the season has only just begun, alibis seem to be arriving ever earlier in the week.
John's arrived on Wednesday, which allowed ample time for the alibi to be fully investigated. incredibly it appears to have been genuine, or John has set up a call and e-mail response centre solely to back up his excuses.
Phil's arrived on the night in the form of a doctors note, but Tom left his 'til the very last minute with the classic quote, "I think I've left my SRT gear at home." Unfortunately he'd forgotten to clear a spare pulley jammer, assorted krabs and all the old bits of tat out of his bag. Thus a few minutes later he was fully equiped and ready to go.
Dick was keen to be rigging again and set off down the pitches with a 10 out of 10 for his skills and a massive improvement on my efforts a fortnight earlier (given 5/10 and more tellingly re-rigged by Tom before he set off down).
As with reaching a summit on a mountain, it's always nice to reach a sump in a cave and even better if there are two. The dive lines disappearing into the murk a testament to divers being a different breed.

A few pretties completed the trip before Tom ably filled in for John by declaring in a headmasterly tone that it was time for the pub.

Grotte Du Guiers Vif, Chartreuse. Friday 11th November

2011-11-11T18:01:00.001Z

Les horloges ont repris, après la mi-Octobre a passé (nous avions un bon moment à Swanage) et une semaine a passé depuis ce qui pourrait / devrait / aurait dû être le TNC première compétition de la saison 2011/2012. Mais ... après une semaine sans blog a été prochain afin de l'hypothèse doit être faite que la saison n'a pas réellement commencé et a donc été laissé au membre de l'équipe voyageant en association avec le CSFdTNC (fédérée août 2007) (Club Français de Spelologie Jeudi Nuit Club) branche à la clandestinité et le blog du voyage réclamant ainsi le premier voyage de la saison.

En France la spéléologie n'est pas seulement une courte distance de marche de la voiture, mais une expédition d'alpinisme suivie par la grotte avec une descente Via Ferrata à la voiture. La promenade jusqu'à la grotte a commencé avec une équipe de 4 le plan en cours pour deux de la partie pour visiter la ville aux cascades et ensuite travailler leur chemin de retour vers le bar. Les deux autres (Dick et David) porterait sur la montagne escarpée jusqu'à la grotte, puis descendre explorer cette cascade de la route de retour à la barre a aidé par la bien équipé par des équipements ferratta. L'autre chose à propos de spéléologie En France était qu'il n'y avait aucun besoin de poids des vêtements, oversuits, bottes en caoutchouc et des casques. Les larges passages, marche facile et sec grotte chaude répondant aux critères pour un 'voyage de moelleux 'avait pas été pour l'ascension et la descente de montagne alpine.

Une fois trouvé (il ya de nombreux détournements sur le trajet ascendant de la montagne) l'entrée de la grotte fit signe d'approcher l'autre côté du couloir d'entrée très vaste. L'eau de la grotte émergents cinquante mètres en dessous de la série d'entrée fossilisés dans le visage du cirque. Exploration des passages important dans la grotte nous a conduit via un arbre de 80m avec de l'eau d'entrer, vers le puisard où les photos ont été prises et la sortie a été effectuée par une autre voie de passage fascinant dépôts stratifiés retourner vers l'entrée.

La descente pour revenir à la barre a commencé par une ruée vers le bas d'une ravine en passant sous une arche de comparaître à la résurgence, qui est tombé sur une chute d'eau pour les rochers en contrebas. Câbles étaient en place pour protéger la montée à travers les rochers au fond de la cascade, où plus de photos ont été prises.

Quelques éboulis opérationnel rapidement conduit à la cascade suivante où le brouillage a conduit à la piste touristique et un sprint rapide retour vers le bar où les membres des équipes d'autres (Sharon et Christine) attendaient avec de la bière prête.

21st August 2011 - A lesson in determination

2011-08-26T15:27:00.008+01:00

July's visit to the Cupcake had taken place on a blue sky day with temperatures nudging into the mid twenties leading to accusations of madness from some members of the TNC. Luckily for Tom as another blue sky day dawned and the thermometer this time headed towards 30, he was on a plane to Spain and therefore had a watertight alibi for not caving. Two years ago while enjoying the Mackrill's superb hospitality on the Vercors plateau, Paul had taken us to visit his dig which at the time had reached -23m and was beginning to make its way into the side of a boulder choke. Now it was time to see what progress had been made in the intervening years.

Even though much of the walk to the dig is tree covered, it was still hot. Fortunately my PVC suit was hung up at home as even in shorts and a T-shirt I'd soon worked up a sweat. Arriving at the dig, the plants round the base of the covering tent trembled in a chilling breeze eminating from the entrance. I've often read of cave discoveries being made by the witnessing of twitching vegetation on still days, but this was the first time I'd seen such a strong draught.

Making our way down the initial climb the draught continued blowing up my trouser legs and sleeves. We soon arrived at the previous deep point and were greeted by a beautifully cast concrete lintel, where once there had just been boulders. Beneath the lintel the way on lay open and the passage led around the corner into an open rift, leading both up and down. The pullies above and spoil filled cavities acted as reminders that even though this rift appeared open now, a lot of work had gone into making it so. Our work for the day was to install a number of stempel steps in the lower part of the rift, to allow easier access to the digging "face" and also to see if we could make any further progress. Paul swiftly installed the new steps with an efficiency born of years of experience and it was soon time to try making his dig a little deeper.

Paul demonstrated his technique for capping, highlighting the importance of each step in the preparation process and the need to be methodical. A dull thud then took off a large chunk of rock at the bottom of the rift. Paul systematically prepared a new hole, before it was my go. This time the dull thud was accompanied by the tinkling sound of the firing screwdriver dropping down into the boulders below, a little more practice is required. Having loosened a fair bit of rock it was now time to shift it up the shaft and store it in a large alcove. I was quickly reintroduced to the hauling system that I last remember being employed to take material to the surface, unfortunately all my triathlon training had left me at lithe race weight (I wish) and Paul had to send up half loads to prevent my dangling ineffectually in the air. After a good few bucket loads we'd lowered the dig by nearly a metre with a draught and beckoning blackness that would excite even the most pessimistic of diggers. Huge thanks to Paul once again for the superb hospitality, the capping lesson and another look down his dig.

25th July 2011 - The Cupcake

2011-07-26T12:51:00.003+01:00

It has to be something pretty special to get the TNC underground in the closed season, especially if it's the day that coincides with the English summer. An invitation from Dave Ramsay to be given a guided tour of the Cupcake and take some pictures of a new Panasonic drill in action was just enough incitement though.

Once down the finely crafted entrance pitches, the eponymous cupcake soon comes into view. Moving on into Pool chamber further collections of formations adorn small grottos too. But this isn't what the Cupcake is about and once down the Mud pitch we headed quickly for Sludge Crawl.

If you are unfortunate enough to be the first person through the crawl, then you will be disappointed that the liquid mud is covered by a centimetre or two of crystal clear water. Better to wait 'til one or two people have been through and mixed the water and mud into a homogeneous soup reminiscent of sadly odourless, slurry.

Cupcake doesn't just do horizontal liquid mud either, some of the pitches are made entirely of mud, that by some miracle of the fundamental constants of nature, allow its viscosity to be such that it can form almost vertical walls.

Close to the connection point with Notts II, the mud even goes as far as to take on a beauty of its own, forming a city of towering skyscrapers, each capped by a small, protective stone. Sadly, I need more practice with my new camera and their architectural grandeur eluded my memory card.

Dave then got into position with his drill and hopefully, despite not having a "DIY tools" setting on my camera, we hopefully managed to get a usable shot.

Huge thanks go to the diggers for creating the access to this particularly muddy part of Yorkshire and to Dave especially for also showing us around.

Tom realises why John doesn't answer Alistairs calls any more

Alistair "enjoying" himself

7th April 2011 - Swinsto to Valley Entrance

2011-04-09T08:46:00.003+01:00

"Well, the water from Rowten runs into Valley entrance and the water from Swinsto does too, but joining a bit further along. If Valley entrance is in line with those trees and it must run generally in that direction. Now it can't be as far as Aquamole because that water runs into..." It had turned out lovely again and our objective for the night had been switched to Swinsto, which unfortunately we hadn't brought the description for. Luckily Dick's logical assessment of the hydrology of the pots above the Turberry road soon found us at an entrance he recognised. We left the rope on the first pitch in place 'til he was sure we were in the right place and then he was off down Swinsto's long crawl. I'd almost have preferred it had it just been a long crawl, the constant changing between hands and knees crawling and stooping putting me off my stride. At least it wasn't painful on the knees, the cold water numbing them quite effectively. The roaring of water grew louder and louder until the sight of Dick's light once again confirmed we were at the next pitch. As soon as I arrived he was down the pitch, the pace helping to keep us warm. It would have been nice to say that we then got into a steady rythmn of one person derigging the previous pitch while the next was being rigged, but Dick's fluid rope work tended to be heavily punctuated by my less than fluent efforts. "So if I'm abbing on this end, then the knot needs to be....". Still I suppose it's better to get these things right. One thing that did remain constant however, was the excitement of descending each of the spray lashed pitches, the water being the perfect temperature to provide maximum exhiliration. The through trip really is one of the Yorkshire classics, an active streamway, followed through constantly changing cave to a master cave, with the added benefit of a thirty second walk back to the car at the end. To top off a great evening we needed a good pint of proper beer, a large packet of crisps and an open fire to sit right next too. These three were amply provided, along with a very warm welcome at the newly opened Marton Arms. As with calculus and rural post offices, suppose you either use it or lose it.

1st April 2011 - Sunset Hole

2011-04-05T11:53:00.003+01:00

With the end of the season rapidly approaching, Sunset seemed an aptly named cave to visit. Driving up the Lune Valley, large ponds of water in the flood plane gave testament to how wet it had been recently, but we hoped it had stopped raining long enough for a trip down this very active system. In all our memories it's just a wander down fine meandering passageway with a couple of little, free climbs before arriving at the main pitch. How different a place can be with a bit more water running down it. Both "free climbs" were rigged, the second especially, well clear of the water.

Having dropped down the main pitch, a rope ladder hung enticingly from the opposite side of the chamber, offering a way on into parts of the system I'd never visited. While the cave leading to the main pitch had been walking down a streamway, in this side of the caving we were crawling through what appeared to be washed out shale beds, almost from the off. A second in situ rope dropped us down into another bedding at the end of which lay a "final" chamber. On the return to the rope, Tom took a slightly different path and discovered the not so inviting corkscrew squeeze that leads further into the system. Fortunately none of us felt like even giving it a try, as we later discovered that it leads straight on to the top of another pitch. At the top of the squeeze lay a good number of chocolate bar wrappers. Evidence of someone spending a little longer in the squeeze than anticipated?

Emerging into daylight we made our way to a packed Craven Heifer. John's alibi for not going caving with us next week - he's going caving.

25th March 2011 - Ingleborough Cave

2011-03-28T12:17:00.014+01:00

With sick notes coming in thick and fast from the majority of the team, a rather reduced party made its way from Clapham up the track to Ingelborough cave under clear blue skies. Even with only the background lights on, caving in a show cave is a peculiar experience. You turn your lamp off and it doesn't go dark. We quickly made our way through the opening galleries of what must be one of the prettiest show caves in Britain and stopped for some pictures at the first Gothic Arch.

First Gothic Arch

At the end of the show cave lies the pool of reflection and again we stopped to try and get some good shots. Beyond this point the lights and concrete floor are left behind as you make your way through elegantly shaped passageway, floored with sand. John, Tom noted that this would make excellent building sand.

Beyond the show cave

A short pool led to the show caves flood defence gate before the sandy passageway continued, leading to a bend, which once rounded, revealed passage way adorned with curtains and the second Gothic Arch.

Second Gothic Arch

Up until this point the cave had been lovely and fluffy, but with a downward sloping sandy crawl the cave's nature changed dramatically. Comfy walking passageways were soon replaced with low bedding plane crawls and the comfy sand replaced with knobbly rock. Things could have been even worse, were it not for the nicely padded ladders over the wetter bits.

Beyond Giants Hall

Returning back up the sandy slope our hearts went out to egg laying turtles the world over. It's not easy to crawl up steep sand. Whether flippers improve or further impede progress is something we're left to ponder.

Huge thanks go to Sue and Bob Jarman for making this trip into their fine cave possible.

18th March 2011 - Lost John's in Derbyshire

2011-03-20T11:33:00.007Z

Shares in British Airways have plummeted as John has found he doesn't have to travel all the way to South America to have an alibi for caving, Derbyshire will do just fine.

Those of us unable to make it to exotic destinations, however, found ourselves walking across the moors on a stunning spring evening towards a portal to the underground realm. So keen was Phil to once more be among caverns measureless to man, that he was 10' down the first pitch before it was suggested that he may wish to follow the time honoured tradition of attaching a rope to the pitch head and using this to aid (impede?) his descent. The initially restricted pitches soon opened out and we found ourselves descending down the side of a large chamber. Though the pitches carried on down to the roaring streamway below, we set off to explore the chamber and the passageway leading off from it.

After a good few stops for pictures during which the models and lighting technicians showed remarkable patience, it was declared time to head to the pub. The undescended last pitch serving as an excellent excuse for a return trip.

The Moon loomed large over a bank of cloud illuminating our return to the cars. Hopefully we'll still be wandering over the moors on crisp, still evenings such as these when the Moon is once again as close in 2029.

CLICK HERE FOR FULL SCREEN SLIDE SHOW

The 2011 Christmas Party - March 12th.

2011-03-15T10:44:00.003Z

The annual Easter Christmas Party was organised by John this year to be a trip down Browney Mine in Nenthead near Alston, followed by a meal at the Miner's Arms Nenthead.

The usual TNC team was swelled by a number of groupies keen to experience a fluffy trip and the party. In addition to Tom, Phil, Dick, John and Ali, we were joined by wives Sharon, Rosie and Val and friends Brian, Holly and Anita.

The mines were fascinating, the over riding impression being of the skill the miners had in their underground world. The sight of vaulted stone roofs, drystone walls and expertly carved tunnels made you wonder at their workmanship. Still it was good to get out into the rainy, snowy night (not nice snow, more like slush) and to the pub for a great evening followed by a stay in the campervans and an excellent breakfast at the Miner's Arms before we split up for various Saturday activities.

One issue of note was the annual TNC Christmas quiz superbly organized by Phil. The winner is not of importance as the quiz is just for fun but one couldn't help remembering the reaction of a certain member from last year on not winning see last years report here. A year of swotting up on the lengths of every underground pitch in the Yorkshire Dales, the names of every cave in the Three Counties Guide and the terminal air speed velocity of the swallow were of no use when it came to this caving club quiz. The excuses for poor performance were due in the end to the rigid thinking and inability to think 'outside the box' of the member who once again was left feeling that he had been robbed.

See some photos of the trip here

County Pot and Trident Series - 10th February 2011

2011-02-12T13:09:00.002Z

As usual, to get a pint and of pack of crisps in one of the local pubs, we had to meet at Devil's Bridge, agree a plan, execute it, and collect evidence. The beauty of taking phtographs is that we can allow ourselves to go back to areas we have been to before. Even so, as we set off down County and headed for White Line Passage, it was still easy to imagine what it must have been like to have been first to explore the section of cave we were in for the first time.

Descending the County Pot ladder pitch

Dropping down the entrance series, it seemed friendly enough with the short pitch in place to keep out the faint hearted. Then some devious route finding through to the waterfall guarding the entrance into the trident series. We took about 15 attempts to get the lighting right for the photo here and then dropped under the wall to the left and into the streamway.

Waterfall above Trident Series

What a great sight to lean around the corner and see the thick white line shining up at us. The Trident area seemed quite complex but easy enough to navigate in fact. Back out, the rain had set in but the air was warm enough with a following wind back across the moor. We set off for The Barbon Inn hoping to find the big lady with the plate of sandwiches there again.

One of the many Trident passages

Stunning formations in little explored passages

Bizarre 'hanging' passage

She had kept them all to herself last week but there were four of us tonight and we would have her outnumbered. We had the regulation pint and a half and then started to think of the end of season bash which John is organising when we can push the boat out a bit more. A good trip which filled the day which included one incident I can't say anything about (this did not involve the big lady and the sandwiches). The possibiity of the TNC guiding a nice French lady on an evening trip was also floated. This appeared to have a good effect on morale.

Mistral and Gour Hall - 4th February 2011

2011-02-06T12:09:00.006Z

Curtains in Gour Hall

5 o'clock came and went as we sat waiting at Devil's Bridge. What could be keeping John? This was his first chance to go caving in nearly two months and he'd be determined not to let anything prevent him from getting underground. Eventually after trying home landline, personal mobile, business landline and business mobile multiple times, John eventually answered. Too eager to get underground he had removed the panel from his bath, crawled under and was being dripped on by the outflow. The thought of having to get dry and be comfortable for the 15 minute drive was too much him and so as he crawled back under the bath, we headed onto the windy moors.

The irony of finding shelter from the wind in a pot called Mistral wasn't lost on us as we made our way down the freeclimable entrance pitch. Having negotiated the winding entrance crawl, Tom was soon back up to full speed, the passageway blurred to me by both the speed with which it was passing and the condensation on my glasses.

The passageway to Cross Hall and then onto Gour Hall must be some of the best in Easegill in terms of the continuity of formations, interspersed only by the occasional slither under the odd low section. As we approached Gour Hall a strange metallic ringing sound was heard, growing ever louder as we drew nearer. It's source, an upside down sauce pan under one of the shower baths that fall into the fine chamber.

Fine formations in Gour Hall

Another view of Gour Hall

With photos taken Tom produced a survey showing the Extreme ways extension from the Hall and inspired by seeing a new bit of passage we set off through a small hole at the bottom of the chamber next to the more likely looking old dig.

For the first time in a number of caving trips we'd actually got muddy, so the crystal clear pools that make up the floor of the crawl through to Extreme ways Hall gave a great opportunity to clean off. With time pressing/no rope for the next bit/further photos to take/fear of last orders being called (please circle favoured excuse) the climb up the snug aven at the end of the Hall was left "for next time" and the return made through the now slightly less than crystal clear pools.

Returning from Extreme ways

With only brief interludes for photos we once again quickly headed back to the entrance and back out into the wilds. At least this time the wind was behind us and it seemed like no time before we were back at the farm.

It seems that Ruskin had taste not just in terms of his landscapes, as a pint of his beer in the Barbon in tasted very good too as we pondered the hairless and rindless pork scratchings.

28th January 2011 - Wilf Taylors Passage.

2011-01-30T16:54:00.003Z

With the visit of a French member of TNC with very specific caving requirements the planned trip this week was a round trip down Lancaster Hole taking in Montague's West, Wilf Taylor's Passage the main drain and Fall Pot.

Another frosty night saw us walking across the moor to the entrance with an unusually large team. Phil, Sharon and David were along as well as the usual suspects, but Ali was off in Scotland celebrating Lee's birthday. The entrance pitch already had a rope down it so once our rope was rigged we made double quick time entering the cave. The water level was low due to the freezing temperatures outside and the fact that it hasn't really rained for two weeks.

Kath's way was quickly dispatched followed by Bill Taylor's passage where the shower bath was absent due to low water levels. At Fall Pot the mud slope was ascended to the start of Montague's West passage.

A leisurely traverse of this passage took place with frequent stops for photographs. When the T junction where the water from Bull Pot of the Witches was met the silence was deafening as there was no water at all flowing out from the upstream sump. Evidence was everywhere in the roof and walls of the huge volume of flood water that had flowed through the passage two weeks earlier but today the flow had ceased and silence rained.

Following the stream bed downstream led us into the superb water washed tube of Wilf Taylor's passage. Some photos later we moved on and soon arrived at the roped downclimb of double decker pot, which has been re-equipped with nice new ropes to aid the climb down.

Wilf Taylors Passage. 'I will not reveal the secret under any circumstance.'

Once at the bottom of this the passage soon arrives at the master cave of Easegill Caverns and the downstream sump, which was quiet but the froth of recent floods was high on the walls.

A stroll up the streamway past Fall Pot led to the beautiful cascades where more photos were taken and then the climb out began.

Easegill Downstream Sump

Lancaster Hole Main Streamway

Back at the entrance to Lancaster Hole the two ropes were still in place so we were double quick exiting the cave and Sharon was relieved that there was no water falling down the pitch as the last time she had climbed the pitch there had been a lot of water falling down it and she thought she was drowning!

The surface temperature was once again well below freezing so the first people out returned to the cars while the last ones out de-rigged the pitch.

A swift drive down off the fell saw us all in the Snooty Fox where John joined us. We haven't seen him since before Christmas as he has been in South America so we were entertained to his stories of summer and sunshine.

The post script of this trip was, however, an awful dawning awareness that one of our members might be changing his club allegiance. Where as once it was 'all for one and one for all' no secrets and share everything, it transpired that this one longstanding and at one time trustworthy member of the TNC yearns to enter another clubs competitions and shares a secret with them that he refuses to divulge to those that he once called 'friends'. This is not Ali who the TNC may yet sell (for a transfer fee yet to be negotiated) to another club who wish to have him for his youthful enthusiasm for all things dark, technical, tight and wet, but an original member. This may be the start of the end for TNC as internal politics rip us apart. Keep watching this space.

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21st January 2011 - Aquamole pot

2011-01-23T10:50:00.005Z

The days are drawing out and we walked to Aquamole Pot in the light. Having previously explored it when it was originally opened up (the Pot was ascended from below after divers had entered it from the bottom after diving through from the sump in Rowten Pot. The high point of the vertical rift was reached by excavation from the surface) we were re-visiting it as it is the upstream continuation of the trip last week, Rowten Pot).

The entrance is a beautifully constructed brick shaft, supported from below by hanging buttresses of bricks and concrete lintels, followed after 8m by the excavated rift. This opens out and the rift is followed via a number of rehangs to the bottom of the first pitch. From there an awkward crawl round some bends and through water leads to the second pitch that ends in a chamber with some beautiful flowstone on the walls.

A breakdown passage and a rift leads to the top of the magnificent final pitch of 40m. The shaft is polished rock and the line of the rope is held away from the stream that falls down it by three deviations that appear to make the rope arc away and stick to the line of the far wall.

At the bottom of this pitch a short walk ends in a large, still sump pool, where underwater exploration continues to find further passages.

After a photo shoot, the long climb out began, the light of the Sten and Scurrion lights being used to effect to light the shaft while photos and video were shot.

On the surface, the temperature, once again was well below zero (-7) and clothing froze as we walked back to the cars. The moon on this occasion, not hidden by cloud but full and bright. Quick change then off to the pub where this time, we had a pleasant pint.

13th January 2011 - Rowten Pot

2011-01-23T10:23:00.003Z

The fog lay thick in Kingsdale as we dropped down into the valley and locating the parking place just after the farm was much harder than usual. Fortunately Dick has made the journey up onto the Turberry road many times and we were soon at the gate on the track. Following the track now, we soon heard the roaring of the water as it cascaded down Rowten and made our way round to the hopefully drier eye hole.

Rowten Pot Entrance

Numerous P-hangers protect the short drop over the edge and after a rehang or two we landed on the rock bridge that spans the impressive pot. Another Y-hang and a short descent later, the dry rift which we were aiming for became visible. After a few abortive attempts I finally managed to gain purchase in the rift and began the traverse, Dick hot on my heels.

At the end of the rift a y-hang allows an impressive descent of the main pitch to made and I stopped a number of times on the way down to appreciate my impressive surroundings. About 4 metres from the floor of the chamber the rope began whipping through my descender faster than usual and I was relieved when the knot in the end of the rope butted against my hand.

The full implications of "austerity Britain" became now very obvious. It seems that even our ropes hadn't escaped the recent cut backs. There was nothing for it but to make my way back up the pitch, where Dick passed my another rope and gave me a quick lesson in joining ropes and passing knots. It was then back down the pitch to complete my homework. As always in times of recesion there are some winners and the bankers' bonus seemed to have gone to the safety cord leading to my hand jammer, leaving it just out of reach as I tried to pass the knot.

Both safely down the main pitch we made our way down the fossil passage that brought us to a potentially very wet penultimate pitch, the rope taking us narrowly between two waterfalls. Having already pressed the intended rope into service on the main pitch, a glance down the final pitch was all that we managed before making our way back up.

Use of combined tactics saw us up the couple of awkward steps in the dry passage and then it was up the main pitch (again!). Passing a rebelay on the way back to the muddy ledge a whoop of joy filled the cavern as Dick pendulumed out of the rift and into space.

Once again back in the fog on the surface we made our way back along the Turberry road, the noise of the torrent slowly subsiding til silence once more, a glimmer of light from the farm guiding us home.

8th January 2011 - Cold trip down Juniper Gulf

2011-01-12T14:10:00.005Z

Years ago when we were but mere youths we used to go caving on a Saturday such was our keenness to explore the underground excitement of Yorkshire's great and famous potholes and caves. Here we were once again going caving not on a Thursday night but a Saturday night.

That was good, club honour saved again. The venue a trip down Juniper Gulf (probably last descended by myself in those youthful Saturdays) is described by John Gardner as a cave that typifies the best of Yorkshire potholes: wet, deep, vertical, and culminating in one of the finest shafts in the country.

Dick at a very snowy Juniper Gulf

The walk across the Allotment with three tackle bags, one containing an 80m 11mm rope was completed in the daylight, which made finding the entrance a lot easier. Once there, however, finding the P hangers for the entrance pitch was made harder due to the covering of snow that lay over everything. Once found and rigged pitch one the daylight shaft was descended and suddenly we were in the warmer environment of the underground.

Pitches 1 and 2 went smoothly apart from the rope not being long enough for the traverse and drop (having rigged the bad step, which was deluged with icy water) but we sorted that with some lateral thinking and knot tying. At the bottom Tom headed off with the tackle bag for the third pitch leaving me to lug the 80m rope through the 'traverse'. Gardner describes this as, 'rather unfairly described as "nasty" in the old guide book. With heavy-weight equipment, there is no doubt that it would be arduous and awkward, but progressing along it with a rope bag does not present problems for the modern caver'. How wrong he was!

Awkward traversing in Juniper Gulf

Twenty feet from the bottom of pitch 3 Tom realised that the rope was yet again too short for the pitch! The 80m beast came into its own and a quick fig of 8 knot later joining the ropes together we were down, rigging the traverse to the head of the final shaft. A crawl through another icy deluge led to the sloping ledge at the top of the 45m free hanging pitch. Tom rigged this and a fantastic descent, clear of the waterfall that entered from the left and half way down another that entered from behind a wall of rock to the right.

Looking down the main pitch of Juniper Gulf

At the bottom the rope had 2m to spare but the volume of icy water that poured and thundered down the final little drop meant that we didn't descend this to wander down to the sump pool. Instead we set off back up the pitch, Tom's Scurrion light illuminating the flutings and smooth walls of the huge shaft to great effect.

The spray lashed re-ascent of the main pitch

The exit from the cave was smooth but somehow I managed to end up carrying the tackle bag back through the traverse! Once below the entrance pitch we saw snow falling down from the surface. Climbing out onto the moor we met temperatures well below freezing and the gear iced up immediately.

The walk back should have been straightforward with Tom having his GPS with the route on it. A lapse in concentration, however, had us walking for a while 180 degrees in the wrong direction when we hit a track that we should have crossed adding some distance to the return journey.

Back at the car a bitterly cold change and we were heading to a warm welcome and great pint at the Gamecock Inn.

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December 30th 2010 - Lancaster Hole to Wretched Rabbit

2010-12-30T17:41:00.003Z

The Collonades Chamber in Lancaster Hole

A team of five assembled early at Bull Pot Farm for this classic through trip. Just a few icy patches where left on the paths, and most of the recent snow had now thawed. Lancaster Hole had several ropes down it already, but with everyone abseiling stright down from the top with no re-belays we were all down in about 30 minutes.

After a quick detour to see the Collonades we headed to Fall Pot (seeing some other cavers leaving up the far slopes as we arrived). With two young cavers in our team (Andrew and Matty) we protected the slippery fixed rope descent with a top rope.

Heading into Montague East we briefy stopped to enjoy the spectacular formations at Bob's Boss and Painters Palette before carrying on to Stake Pot.

The Painters Palette in the Hight Level Series

Once again we top roped the youngsters across the exposed descent and re-ascent at Stake Pot, and then continued past the minarets before stopping for a bite to eat. Ian was overheating and briefly stripped down to his undies much to everyone elses amusement! I won't put the photo of this on here, but you can see it on the slideshow!

The Minarets

Exiting the Minarets

Passing through the silent Cornes Cavern and Monster Cavern soon we were at the fixed ladder leading us down into Stop Pot and everyone had a drink of water from the river. A cold section in quite deep water in the Stop Pot boulder choke took us downstream to Eureka Junction.

Mark tackling the boulder choke in the main streamway at Stop Pot

All that remained was the long twisting passages of Wretched Rabbit, always good entertainment, everyone seemed to have plenty of energy left to tackle the awkward climbs and crawls of this classic bit of passage.

In the Wretched Rabbit Meanders

After roping the lads up the last climbs we arrived on the surface at twilight, 6 hours after starting. A very good effort for a team of 5 including two novices annd two 13 year olds! All that remained was to walk back across the moor in the fading daylight and then return to Lancaster Hole to get out ropes.

A happy team back on the surface

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Map showing Location of Lancaster Hole

Lancaster Hole / Easegill Survey showing Route - click for large image

17th December 2010 Diccan Pot

2010-12-18T00:43:00.007Z

The Awesome last pitch of Diccan Pot

A very cold night saw Lawrence breaking ice as he drove up the track to Alum Pot (Lawrence is a VW campervan). The temperature when we stepped outside was well below freezing so the change into caving gear and sorting out the ropes was conducted quickly. Just as we finished packing, the cream team arrived back at their bus, cold and wet from their day of training for their level 2 cave leaders award, TNC member Ali having been there learning new techniques to speed up our trips underground so we can arrive at the pub quicker.

The entrance to Long Churn was icy and icicle festooned as we slipped underground, the air temperature difference immediately noticeable. The water level was quite high despite the freezing conditions outside and the water temperature was low. Our feet were wet by the time we reached the top of the first pitch of Diccan Pot.

Descending the main pitch

The first pitch was spray lashed but quickly dispatched once the third re-hang was rigged. Once at the bottom of the second part of the pitch in the dry away from the spray it was time to watch the water lashing over the rocky ledge in the backlight from Tom's Scurrion light.

The second pitch was passed in the dry followed by the final awesome pitch that requires a traverse above a huge chasm leading to a technical descent that involves pendulums to catch deviation slings in the sloping roof in order to guide the rope away from the thundering water falling down the back of the pitch. A single re-hang off a ledge led to a final icy-spray lashed pitch landing in a pool about 5 metres away from the terminal sump of Alum Pot.

A quick look at the sump pool and then off up the passage towards Alum Pot and the daylight (now dark as it was nearly the shortest day) shaft where we had heard from the cream team that icicles were falling down the shaft. We were brought up short by the short pitch leading up into the open air where ice pearls were forming on the rocks, formed from spray splashing off the rocks.

Ice covered rocks at the bottom of Alum Pot

Back at the foot of the ropes it was Tom's turn to de-rig. The awesome pitch caused some wild swings as the rope was freed from the deviation slings, the light from above and from Tom's Scurrion showing that he swung into the water falling down with the stream.

At the last pitch Tom went up first as his hands were really cold and the rope was spray lashed for 3/4 of its length. Climbing the pitch brought us soaked and cold back to the re-hangs, which were fortunately above the spray. Once back the head of the pitch the 80m rope wouldn't fit back in the ropebag so it was coiled on top but with the water in the bag and weight of the rope the final 50m back up the stream passage was hard going.

Returning up the main pitch

Once back on the surface the cold hit us. Wet gloves froze to metalware, the rope bags formed hard ice carapaces and our suits froze hard.

Back at Lawrence a quick change led us to the warming drive to the once famous caving pub of the Craven Heifer in Ingleton where generations of cavers have drunk the night away. If only we could say that a warm welcome awaited but .... well that is another story.

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10th December 2010 - New Rift Pot

2010-12-12T20:04:00.004Z

In the description of New Rift it mentions that even with moderate rain the crawl between the first and second pitches can become impassable. It hasn't rained in weeks but the cold snap had ended during Wednesday night and with temperatures rising by the best part of 20 degrees what effect would the snow melt have had?

With neither of us ever having visited Rift before, there was only one way to find out...

As we drove up the lane to Mason gill we could see that a lot of water had come down recently with gravel strewn across the road in a number of places. Just before the water treatment works the sheet ice started and Tom skillfully turned the car around before parking on the most ice free spot we could find.

Finding the large shake hole in which the entrance sits, our worst fears were becoming a reality. The remaining snow was melting fast and all of the melt water was making it's way down the wood covered opening. As we geared up we heard an ominous rumble from within, a lump of ice making its way down the first pitch.

From within the entrance we began to get an idea of the amount of material held back by earlier explorers using wood shuttering. Neither the state of some of the wood, nor the water filtering through it filled us with much confidence, still there were some nice ice formations. An in-situ rope soon saw us at the bottom of the pitch and a first look down the crawl leading to the next pitch.

The water seemed to be confined to a very small trench in the crawl, so removing my SRT gear I set off to have a look. A couple of shallow pools were no match for my brand new, tailormade undersuit and so I kept going till a slot in the floor allowed me to stand up. Nice and cosy and working on the principle that the melt rate should be decreasing as the night set in, I set off down into another crawling section.

Unlike the wider passage that had gone before, this was more tube like. Another drop in the floor beckoned so I kept going until I had the disconcerting feeling of water coming over my shoulders. Though the drop in the floor was only a couple of feet away I crawled backwards as fast as I could, trying to let the backed up water run underneath me, rather than over. Standing once again and lesson learnt I made way back to Tom and the climb back up to the entrance.

Tom making his way out of the entrance (exit?)

Tom accepted my apology for possibly not the best choice of cave and the forshortened nature of the trip with unparalled grace. It was almost as though he was happy to be making his way back to the pub so soon.

As we approached the water board building, there was something not quite right. On leaving the car it had been neatly parked by the side of the lane next to one of the walls. It now sat nearly right across it about 6 feet further down the lane. The handbrake was still on and there was no sign of outside interference. Spooky.

"I'm sure this is where I parked the car."

John would have loved this trip, we probably spent longer in the Craven Heifer than we did underground and still got home at a reasonable time.

My thanks go to Dennis at Jumpsuits for a fantastic new undersuit and my apologies again to Tom for about the shortest trip of the season so far.

26th November 2010 - Pool Sink

2010-11-27T10:06:00.011Z

In the bacon slicer

With poor Tom unable to join us having fallen off his bike earlier in the week and Phil and John otherwise committed, it was a slightly reduced team that set off onto the moors from Bull Pot farm.
With temperatures in the last couple of days having fallen well below freezing we followed a ribbon of ice over to a very dry Easegill, Pool Sink seemingly a misnomer under these conditions.
Entering the cave was like stepping off a plane in Southern Spain having boarded it in England, the exertions that followed adding to the rise in temperature too.
Once through the entrance S bends, the sink opens up into a fabulous meandering passageway before the first pitch is encountered. Given the complete lack of water, the initial Y-hang gave us the desired free hang with no need to deviate and use up one of our precious krabs. Gearing up at the car we had realised that most of the maillons must be with Tom, but by cobbling together all the krabs taken off bags and found in the car boot, we hoped we had just enough.
While the way on lay down stream, we deviated up stream to have a look for Magpie Grotto. It felt like we were very close to the surface again when we stopped in a small chamber, presumably the Grotto, decorated with stal but with boulders and a large of amount of mud spilling into it.

Dick in Magpie Grotto

On again downstream before a traverse over a couple of deep holes led us to the second pitch, split by a small pool.

Rigging the second pitch

To gain the third and final pitch we needed to make a rising traverse up "Jacob's ladder". A brilliant final pitch in this classic Ease gill entrance.

Heading up Jacob's Ladder

Following the water down from the base of the pitch we were soon in familiar territory, the unforgetable "blades" of the bacon slicer cutting into the passageway. Mindful of the return journey through the entrance passage with our tackle bags, we set off back up our ropes towards a stunning star filled sky and the sofas in front of the fire at the Barbon Inn.
John you'd have loved the last bit.

20th November 2010 - Coniston Copper Mines

2010-11-20T21:34:00.014Z

Friday night. Caving season. Heading AWAY from the Dales and its cave riddled limestone.

They say though that variety is the spice of life and we were heading towards Coniston and its historical copper mines. John had arranged for the TNC to meet up with some friends who actually do cave on a Thursday and a member of CATMHS to be given an intro (or refresher for some) to the possibilities for trips in the workings.

The first level we looked into gave us the chance to look down into a shaft flooded by crystal clear, blue green water. The level was terminated at a set of workings. While the ladders looked sound their exposure to air and decades of dripping water excluded further exploration for us. On returning to the surface we headed up hill again and into the higher entrance of Hospital level.

Dick in the entrance passage

Before long the nature of the workings became apparent as a collapse in the false floor allowed a view down onto further false floors and the remains of their stemple supports. Fortunately the volunteers who have done so much to gain and maintain access to the mines had provided us with a secure bridge over the collapse.

Looking down towards Deep level

Further passage and chambers led to a tunnel, complete with railway lines that followed the miners optimism towards further deposits. These never materialised and the tunnel finished at a dead end.

Stemples high in the stope

Returning back to the entrance gave us another opportunity to admire the green and blue formations, a change from the pristine white of calcite that we are used to. Before returning to the entrance a quick detour took us to a Temple of Doomesque passage with railway lines finishing in mid air over a huge void.

Phil admiring the green formations

Our thanks go to Mal and Brian for their company, Mark for being a superb guide and John of Barrow Mountaineering and Ski club for the post trip cup of tea in such comfortable surroundings.

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