9th July 2026 - A pause for reflection

Spoiler: If you want a trip report look elsewhere, think only my lower half was underground for about 30 seconds. If though you're after some ramblings on why I only managed a 30 second trip, read on...

A teacher's timetable can have a big effect on how the year as a whole goes and I've learnt that, if occasionally it goes your way, you need to make the very most of it. Every second week on a Thursday there's been a chance that I can get away early and, with it being my last week in school this year, I wanted to make it count. 

The weather has remained remarkably dry so, coupled with the early start, we had the opportunity to keep the momentum going with East Kingsdale trips. Therefore, I suggested Growling to Mike. As ever he was more than up for any outing and so, under blue skies, we headed for Kingsdale. 

With the potential for a late return and to prevent disturbing the farm, weve taken to parking up by Yordas, the approach only being slightly longer. Today though the parking was full and Yordas itself was bustling with activity. Recognising a friend's car I went to chat while Mike parked the car further back down the valley. Sonja was there as her son was filming in the cave (see here) and she hoped to catch up with him at the end of the day.

It was a sweat soaked trudge up the valley side despite the fact that most of our cave clothing was in bags rather than worn and it was with some relief that we dumped the bags in the rough area of the pot while we looked for the entrance. There are a lot of shake holes in the shallow, dry valley leading up from the pile of stones that acts as a useful navigational aid but it wasn't long before we found the one thag we wanted.

Adding extra layers, gloves and a helmet the atmosphere began to feel even closer and I began to get frustrated as I tried to squeeze my harness into an already bulging tackle sack. Mike had swiftly rigged a handline for the entrance climb and had already disappeared from the foot of the climb as I first lowered my SRT kit leaking tackle sack and then myself into the gap in the limestone.

At this point my brain usually goes quiet. This is why I cave. There is a lot that I find frustrating in life, ranging from people who think it's fine to mix different pasta shapes to right wing nut jobs touting their illogical and vile twaddle and I admit that it gets to me. Drinking is one way of calming my racing mind but obviously this isn't a sustainable solution for numerous reasons. A weekly caving trip, with the finest mates you could wish for, therefore serves as my healthy therapy. The physical challenge of moving through passage, or the mental problem solving of rigging allow a fast track to a flow state in which I'm only focussed on the present. This normally sets in the moment the cool air of the cave us met, or on clipping the first carabiner. Today though my mind kept racing.

Was it overheating on the way up? Coming to the end of a busy term but with school trips still ahead? The fact that youngest had just fallen off his bike and, while he'd escaped with a bit of road rash, I still needed to sort his bike before going away? Or even something as petty as knowing my harness would keep trying to escape from my sack and require constant restuffing as I made my way along the crawl below me? An amalgamation of all of the above?

Fortunately Mike was still in ear shot of my muted, "I can't do this." "Can't do the move, or feel you shouldn't be here", he sagely asked. It was definitely the latter, my whole body almost physically revulsed by the act of entering the cave.

As previously mentioned, it's not just the caving that acts as my therapy, but that it's done with amazing friends. Friends who're there for you both when things are going well or, as today, not so well. 

With minimal kerfuffle we were soon having a pleasant wander further up the valley identifying other entrances before the slightly less stifling descent back down to the car and the inevitable pint in The Barn. Growling will hopefully still be there for me on another day...

8th November 2018 - Yordas

For the first outing of the 2018 season we wanted to brush up on our skills for doing pull through trips involving traverses.  Yordas, with its easy access seemed the perfect choice.

It didn't bode well when I initially couldn't even find the entrance to the cave, finding us too low in a small dry valley.  I'm using the excuse it was dark. Entrance located we crossed the main chamber to have a look through the window to inspect the water levels. It was wetter than when I'd last done a pull through, following the water down. That was definitely not going to be an option today and there was quite a bit of should we/shouldn't we as we headed up the side of the valley to the middle entrance.

After looking at the water entering just above the entrance we decided the trip was on and set up the first short pitch for a pull through.  At the bottom, as I pulled 40m of rope through the bolts rather than 10, I was glad we were having a shake down trip that wasn't too committing. The second short pitch was slightly trickier to rig, but at least I'd got my rope management sorted this time and with the tackle sack quickly repacked, we were heading down into the main streamway.

Fortunately we'd gauged things right and the water level was fine as we headed to the main pitch.  I set off rigging and Tony followed a few bolts behind derigging. After a short traverse, an abseil was required to reach a further bolted traverse on the opposite wall. Rigging this as I normally would it was only when I was safely belayed that I began thinking about the options Tony now had. I so hoped that there would be enough rope in the derigged 'tail' of rope for him to perform his own mini pull through. Once again I was glad we'd decided to have what was quickly becoming a much needed 'practice' trip. Communicating anything to Tony was impossible,  the roaring of the waterfall in the confined chamber was deafening, but he's a good few tricks up his sleave and he was soon making his way down to me.

Even with closer proximity, conversation was difficult and this definitely wasn't the time or place for a discussion on the relative merits of different techniques.  Rechecking I was on the right end of the rope, I unclipped and swung into space.  There was no point in rigging the deviations as Tony wouldn't be able to make use of them, but fortunately the hang meant a wetting only in the final metre or so before the chamber floor allowed a sprint out of the water and onto the drier window 'sill'.

Tony followed down and to our combined relief the rope ran smoothly, landing in the plunge pool in front of us.  With the bag quickly packed we crossed the main chamber once again and climbed the short bank to the entrance. Outside there wasn't a sound but our ears were still ringing as we dropped down to the road.

Even warmly ensconced in the 'under new management', more welcoming Marton Arms we became aware we were probably still shouting at each other, or perhaps it was just our scruffiness that drew glances from the much better dressed members of clientele. Still the beer and crisps were good and their prices a bit more reasonable than previously.

A grand evening out in a cracking little pot with superb company, even if we couldn't hear a word each other were saying.

15th February 2013 - Wetter than last week

Tom back at the van.

Incredibly it hasn't rained for a couple of days and some blue sky has allegedly been seen over Lancashire.  Having had a great trip last week in Yordas and needing a short and exciting adventure for my brother-in-law, I thought a pull-through trip would be perfect.

Driving up Kingsdale, I was quite surprised to see the river running relatively high despite having had a couple of dry days.  The remains of the snow on the flanks of the valley gave a clue to its source and potential temperature though.

A five minute uphill plod, made slightly more difficult than usual by the neoprene/PVC combo, soon saw us at the Middle entrance.  The two short entrance pitches were soon negotiated and we set off along the streamway. 

Arriving at the final pitch the waterfall looked and sounded awesome.  Descending first to make sure the rope ran clear, I tried to sneak my way down the side of the main fall.  Though this was partially successful, there was no avoiding a couple of refreshing showers, the biggest being saved for the last couple of feet into the plunge pool.

Waving my lamp at Tom, he began his descent through the maelstrom, again trying hard to avoid the main fall, and again receiving the biggest soaking just before the bottom.  Signalling to him to climb through the window, with fingers crossed, I began to pull on the abseil rope.  Fortunately it came through easily and we were both soon in the impressive hall of Yordas.

I pointed out the line of foam about 5 foot up the wall and told Tom that this indicated how high the recent flood waters must have been.  He then asked about the line of foam about 11 foot up!  It must be a truly incredible sight when it's in flood.

Two minutes later we were back at the van and not much later, sat in the warmth of the Marton Arms, the noise and power of the rushing water a distant dream.

1st February - Back down to earth

The rain had fallen steadily all day in Lancaster, while this is the usual state of affairs, it hadn't been forecast and so as the afternoon approached we decided to change our original plans.  A quick flick through the rigging guide and Dick decided we should go and have a look at Yordas pot.  

First though we needed to head to Ingleton, as the word on the street was that Inglesport had some of the long awaited Meander suit replacements.  The bush telegraph was indeed accurate, but Lyon's sizing wasn't and while Dick was able to adopt the customary Inglesport oversuit pose (see here and here), further movement wasn't going to be possible even in their largest suit.  (If anyone from Lyon's reading Dick is more than happy to lend his dimensions to help with the production of a new sized suit as, given the rave reviews, he'd very much like one still).  So with his old, leaky Meander we set off, at least this wasn't going to be a wet trip.

Road side caves are fantastic and within a few minutes we were descending down the first entrance pitch and shortly after the second, which brought us to a lovely streamway.

While I tried taking a couple of photos, Dick started off, rigging the traverse over a roaring waterfall.  With having taken the kids into Yordas, I had wrongly assumed that this would be a very simple trip, but the third pitch is very good fun as it first traverses out, before heading down to the waterfall plunge pool.

Pretending that daylight wasn't but a short walk away, we looked round the impressive main chamber, before once again stepping back through the window to the waterfall chamber.

Starting the climb back up, some strange force propelled you into the waterfall, before the force of the water spat you back out.  These are the type of conditions when a fully waterproof, PVC suit comes in handy.

Returning along the traverse we soon swapped the verticallity of the waterfall, for the pleasant stream way and began making our way back out.

Once again the road side nature of the cave came up trumps and we were soon back at the van and shortly after in the warm environs of the Marton Arms.  Worth visiting for the very good beer and also to contemplate the price of a steak dinner.