19th January 2017 - Ah-ah, ah! Ah-ah, Ah! Valhalla I am coming...

Given that Tony was so impressed with his first visit to Lost Johns with Dick that he'd gone back a few days later, it seemed right that we should try a trip to the bottom of the pitches as soon as possible. 

Unlike the last time we had tried this, when all I can remember was gathering every bit of rope and every maillon we possess and shoving them in innumerable tackle bags, split between the two of us, Dick had pulled off an organisational master stroke. There were three neatly packed bags, one each and a plan that would have us each rigging a couple of pitches.

Dick set off like a whippet down an enlarged rabbit hole and was soon rigging the first of his pitches while Tony and I followed more sedately, enjoying what seem to be the purpose built traverses above the streamway and holes.

The first two pitches swiftly dispatched, I took over for Candle and Shistol, before a short piece of horizontal cave brought us to the Battleaxe traverse.

The traverse is a fantastic piece of cave, exciting bridging above the heard, but unseen, streamway far below.  Passing over the first y-hang we made our way to the very end of the traverse, where a rather cramped game of leap frog crossed with cat's cradle put Tony on point.

Muttering something about "progression in SRT skills!", he moved up to rig the y-hang before descending the superb Valhalla pitch.

29th January 2016 - Discretion is the better part of Valhalla...

Having gathered together pretty much every rope and maillon we own to get us to the bottom of Lost Johns, there was absolutely no way I could manage a camera too, so sorry no pictures.

Heavily laden we soon realised it's been a while since we'd visited Lost Johns as we found ourselves walking through the wrong gate. We jumped back in the van and a few minutes later were in the right field, climbing down into the streamway.

Dick's recollection of the system soon came back and as I sploshed around in the stream, he moved swiftly along a higher traverse line.  With each passing pitch the load of tackle bags decreased till at the start of the Battleaxe traverse we were down to our final one.

At the end of the traverse we looked down into the gloom of Valhalla and listened to the crashing water. Our warm dry perch suddenly seemed very cosy and it didn't take much to convince Dick that this should be our turn around point.

While I'm pretty sure that I don't have many things in common with Madonna, enjoying a decent pint of Timmy Taylor's is one of them. Not sure if she ever drinks in the Snooty Fox though.