7th May 2026 - Definitely under rated

Over the years I've had sone cracking trips in Sell Gill, from 'full team' TNC trips (with Phil, our fastest runner, being dispatched to ensure we didn't miss last orders) to being a guinea pig on Tony's level 2 assessment. Never though had I been down the wet, Goblin, route. A visit from one of Mike's nephews meant that we required a short but adventurous outing and Goblin seemed to fit the bill.

Arriving at the entrance though there was only a trickle of water going down the stream and with the route solely being SRT, with no grovelly bits, I opted to leave my oversuit on the surface. Mike, once again, magnanimously handed over rigging duties despite knowing that this is a highlight of the route. It has been superbly bolted allowing some superb positions to be reached and the rock architecture to be fully appreciated. We're definitely going to be back with Tony for an exchange between the two routes.

While I emerged from the cave pretty dry in just my undersuit, my poor oversuit on the surface had managed to get wet anyway from a passing rain shower.

Joseph on the cracking final pitch

Mike joining him at the rebelay

Terrific rigging in and out of the oxbow

26th March 2010 - The Christmas Party

They say that history is written by the victor.

If however the victors' grammar is truly atrocious and they rely on made up words, then it's probably better if the losers do it...

The going forward of the clocks signals the end of the official TNC season and also the time for our Christmas party. A cave, campsite and pub or two in fairly close proximity are therefore required and 4:30 on Friday afternoon saw the team assembling at Mr Suttcliffe's campsite in Horton in Ribblesdale.

It's a very long "kilometre" slog up the Pennine way from Horton. There has to be a better way than walking. At least the entrances of Sell Gill Holes aren't far from the track. The wet or Goblin entrance was living up to its name so rather than the hope for exchange trip, the whole team set off down the dry entrance. With Tom rigging and two members of the team already fired from photographic duties, the camera passed to Dick as he had recently attended one or two lessons of a photography course.

The only difficulties with the pitches came from choosing which of the many rigging alternatives to use, Tom in the end choosing a minimalist approach to see us quickly to the bottom. The impressively sized chamber narrows and lowers till the stream only has a crawling sized hole to flow through and flood debris can be found high up the chamber walls. The exit passage from the main chamber soon reaches a sump and we returned to photograph the main chamber. The temperature of the water and associated wind coming down from the wet route convincing us we'd made the right route choice.

The sky was still light as we made our way back up to the surface. The long trog back to the village was made a bit easier by the couple of cans Tom had stashed close to the entrance. 

Phil having made the sensible decision to take some clean clothes with him was left in The Crown as we passed to secure a table, while the rest of us returned to the camp site to change. Phil did us proud and we were soon digging into a fine supper.

Moving on, we found ourselves in the "Brass Cat" with probably the worst pint of beer we've had all season. Spirits were low, but were soon raised as Phil produced an immaculate blue folder containing the Christmas quiz. Teams were decided and a (impartial) referee appointed.

While John and I graciously conceded that Tom and Dick may just have edged the first round, in the second and final round we were robbed, "zwerving" is not a word!

At least on the final question, to remain and drink awful beer or to head back to the Crown, we were unanimous.

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