25th July - CPC Penyghent Pot

 AJ, Mick, Simon, Jay, Adie, Patrick and Mike

After a fabulous AJ organised trip through King Pot with the Craven, I was keen to join another of his trips. The fact that it was to Penyghent pot made it even more unmissable. I've only visited once before, but it had been a fantastic trip and I was looking forward to another trip with both a reduced share of tackle and a potential visit to one of the extensions.

It's been dry for weeks now but there was definitely moisture in the air and rain forecast as I drove to pick up Mike. Excellent brownie courtesy of Sam, a quick cuppa, a brief chat with Mike's aunt and we were off again on the way to the club cottage in Horton. The club's carpark was busy with both vehicles and bodies beginning to sort tackle but a short shuffle worthy of a top level Tetris player soon had all parties accomodated and all hands on the bagging of the ropes. Mick, Simon, Jay and AJ I'd met on the previous King pot trip and I was introduced to Patrick and Adie, the club's tackle master. Along with rope we were going to rig/derig pitches with, there were also a number of 'decomissioned' ropes that were going to be used to replace the handlines that aid progress in the rift.

Walking up to the pot we experienced a sensation that has become somewhat unusual of late, rain. We felt sorry for the people heading up Penyghent, any other day in the last 6 weeks they'd have had clear views. Today though the clag was properly down. While the initial plan had been for a potential visit to the Friday the thirteenth extensions we were glad that we'd revised our plans to aiming solely for the sump. I for one would prefer no rain forecast before heading into the likes of Psycho crawl.

While the ramblers made their way up into the clouds, we cut off left at right angles to the main path, following a vague trod. Arriving at an area of shallow shakeholes our party spread out until the scaffolded entrance was located and the group once again coalesced. Watching a group of cavers kit up it soon becomes apparent that there are often many solutions to a problem. While everyone sported a harness, descender and jammers, the type and arrangement were almost as numerous as the number of people.

Knowing what was ahead I lingered towards the back of the party, enjoying the light drizzle until the last possible opportunity, before climbing down the scaffolded entrance. The water was definitely warmer than on our previous visit. Lamentably this meant that I was able to feel my knees and I was envious of Aidie and his two sets of kneepads solution. One industrial pair for this crawl and then a lighter set for the rest.

The first pitch brings slight respite from the crawling of Pilgrims' way but it's only after Easy passage and the second pitch that Penyghent really starts to show itself at the beginning of The Rift. This is a superb piece of cave, scrambling interspersed with hand line climbs and pitches. The fun continues down to the improbable bypass of the, today ironically named, Niagara pitch. Here, for me, the walls of the cave become darker and there's an ominous feeling in the final waterlogged passage to the sump. I knew I was almost there as Patrick and Adie hurtled past me on their out saying that the dive line was just around the corner. A quick bite to eat and we began our upwards journey with Mike derigging.

The shine was slightly taken off The Rift as the bag became ever heavier and at each rope there was the question of wether we should be removing it or not. The general rule was that if it had a krab on it, it was coming out. The main issue was that to Mike and I's eyes some of the 'tatty' rope we were meant to be leaving in looked in way better condition than much of the rope we're used to using.

At some point along the entrance canal I began to think that even the smallest little inlet on the right was our way out as I was determined not to miss it. I needn't have worried as the correct exit had been marked by a lovely bit of wall (or art if you're a Goldsworthy fan). A final few wriggles with the bag and we joined the others on the surface.

The wander back down into the valley allowed time for chat with fellow club mates before the excitement of putting ropes through the washer back at the kit store. A brew in the hut, another 

[In progress...]

23rd December 2021 - A Yorkshire Pilgrimage

Mike's thoughts:

Early pass- Pen-Y-Ghent Pot (23/12/21)

Most pot-holing  excursions are evening based, a quick escape after work on a regular Thursday evening slot seems to fit fairly easily into the demands of the working week. The expectations of work, family, children usually complicate weekends and holidays, thus the opportunity for a full team ‘early pass’ on the eve of Christmas Eve allowed the possibility of a trip further afield and further underground, with the knowledge that success would make upcoming festivities even more appreciable. Such opportunities are not to be wasted, cherry picking to be done, Pen-Y-Gent to be assailed!

We were not disappointed, a midday stroll up onto a clagged out fell soon led to aqueous commitment along the canal from the outset, leading to a developing streamway and the tremendous main pitch chamber. The following rift a continual concentration and entertainment of route choice, rigging (or not) and thrutching until the final inspiring main streamway into the depths of the fell. Physically and mentally demanding throughout, with the added niggle of a slightly drizzly forecast in the back of our minds, all put to rest with the best resurfacing butties I’ve eaten for a long time, an evening trot back down the fell and a wonderfully sustaining and relaxing pint in the pub. Happy days, may the festivities begin!

Al's ramblings:

Holidays mean that we can be a bit more flexible about our Thursday meeting time.  Instead of the usual 5 pm at Devil's bridge, we can go earlier and further afield. A high pressure sitting over the country also gave us more options than the usual set of wet weather alternatives. So it was that the classic Penyghent pot was chosen as our objective. Despite having done it before, Mike was more than happy for a return and it would be new cave for Tony and I.

The beginning of the week brought stunning cloud inversions across the country, social media filling with summit photos surrounded by a sea of cloud and island peaks. By the Thursday morning though, the forecasts were not as certain and I began to have my doubts. While the others met at Devil's bridge to drive over to Horton, I stopped off in Ingleton to pick up the last pair of neoprene gloves in Yorkshire and some valuable local knowledge from internet influencer, Inglesport Johnny (better known as Wild swimming Yorkshireman).  Rather than flocks of birds and poor animal's entrails, the oracle consulted forecasts and river gauges and gave the nod. We were good to go.

The others were almost changed as I pulled into the layby in Horton, but I still found time to get one of Tony's fantastic egg mayonaise butties down me before pulling on my gear. Then it was onto a strangely deserted 3 peaks motorway.  The last time I'd been along the road to Brackenbottom, youngest and I were struggling in the heat, overtaking a myriad of walkers as we completed a round of the famous peaks.  This afternoon though, it was only the three of us who stomped up the road, before heading up onto the open fell.

3 fields later we turned left, off the main drag, a couple of dog walkers guessing our intended destination.  The rusty red gate in the description no longer red nor rusty, replaced by a newer galvanised version.  Mike as ever led us directly to the pot's entrance as opposed to the aimless wandering over the fellside that usually ensues when multiple, multi-million pound satellites and I try to do the same. Here it was, a small scaffolded entrance with a wire mesh lid. 

I dropped down into the entrance and almost instantly found an awkward section in which to entangle my tackle sack, not the most promising of starts. The drop down into the canal initially offered relief, its ample dimensions being easy to pass through and my new gloves keeping my hands lovely and warm. After a while you realise you've been crawling for quite a way and yet the passage continues ahead, an impromptu carol from Tony being the only relief from the monotonous crawling. They say a change is as good as a rest, but I don't think they had in mind the roof changing from a few feet above the water to about a foot. This lowering did though signal that the pitch was nigh.