20th April 2012 - Bull Pot Kingsdale

Growing up, it was all about reaching the top of things: the top of climbs; the top of mountains. Geological pedantry aside, these are fixed points. A mountain will be as high one week as it is the next. Later in life I was introduced to caving. While I now realise that it's normally the journey that's more important than the destination, one of the quirks of caving is that a cave, down to a sump, may be deeper one day than the next.

Top of the entrance pitch

Normally our caving season would have finished by now, but with it still being cold and wet outside, it seems natural to carry on. The only real difference is that as we met up in Kingsdale and began heading up to the cave, it was still broad daylight. Dick's satellite imagery inspired direction finding soon found us at the impressive entrance and not quite as slickly as usual (I was rigging) we made our way down the daylight shaft.

A short piece of passage then brought us to the second short pitch before a choice of routes. While the rain hasn't been continuous, there have been some pretty heavy showers and the water that's around is cold. We therefore opted for the "fossil" route rather than the "slot".

Rigging the deviation on the "fossil" route

Descending the "fossil" route

At the foot of the pitch a ledge intervenes allowing a sneak around the cascade from the joining water before a short climb, maybe just a couple of metres or so, takes you down to a slot cut by the stream. While only short, the volume of water and the possibility of more made us think twice about this obstacle. Though there was a Petzl bolt, it wasn't positioned quite far enough over to allow a dry hang, so we made a retreat back up the pitch.
Back at the junction we set off down the "slot" route, arriving after a dry hang just down stream from where we had been previously. We were soon traversing above the stream again to the head of the third pitch. The first deviation took us further from the crashing water but the second looked out of reach for a short person with limited climbing skills. A Petzl bolted deviation was closer so I took this option and carried on down.

There must be a moral about taking the easier option, for the chilling water was soon on top of me again and jamming myself in a corner out of the main current I swapped over my gear and reascended. A different approach to a problem, often makes it seem easier and from below I managed to reach the P-bolt deviation. Even so we were in for a bit of a lashing at the bottom of the pitch.
A great bit of passage then led to the narrow rift down which the final pitch makes its way. While initially this looked a bit daunting, initially once again we'd be very close to a lot of water, in the end it was a really enjoyable pitch.

From the foot of the pitch, two small passages led off, one flowing with no possible way on and the other a static sump, again with no way on. The guide led us to believe there was more cave beyond, but not on this day.

I was asked the other day what my favourite colour was and I'd replied that it was the inky blue of the sky after sunset, before it goes fully dark. As Dick unclipped the deviation at the top of the entrance pitch, he was silhouetted against the sky of this very colour. What a great trip.

14th April 2012 - Simpson pot

With Lee over from Germany and having just completed a walk across the Lakeland skyline, a caving trip in keeping with his hiking adventure was required. A through trip in Simpson with a guarantee of a soaking in its (currently) very cold water would fit the bill perfectly.

"Yellow suit, wellies, what else?"

Though the sun was shining the chilly wind ensured a brisk change and for Lee, a quick reacquaintance with putting on SRT gear. Not normally caving on a weekend the hoards changing next to the road came as a bit of a shock. Fortunately of the groups there, two were going into Valley entrance and the other into Swinsto. Kitted up, it was then of up the hill to find the entrance to Simpson.

Another classic Simpson pitch

Having negotiated the entrance crawl, the pitches soon began and as usual Dick was in his element, efficiently rigging them while Lee and myself bumbled along behind. Strangely the way on departs from the water's route but it's departure would not be long lived.

"I'm sure that's got deeper"

While the duck is only short, the dark peaty water doesn't look overly inviting and the temperature of the water we'd already gone through didn't make it's negotiation any more appealing either. Going through first in order to take pictures of the others resurfacing, I found the driest bit of ground to put my camera cases on, before gingerly getting out a camera and flash. It was only when Dick came through last that he noticed that my careful stacking had produced a rather fine dam, reducing the airspace for him and Lee by a good 6 inches.

Camera box "dam"

The slot pitch could not be better described, but with a pre-rigged deviation over the top of it, we opted for the easier option.

Going up and down the slot pitch

At the junction with Swinsto we met the couple just finishing their through trip and we set off down the final pitch. Unfortunately a slip for Lee left him in the full force of the water, the torrent bouncing of his chest into his face while he tried to descend the last few feet. I imagined the roaring of the water, but Lee said the only thing he'd been able to hear was Dick wetting himself laughing.

All the time in the water was now beginning to take it's toll and the final crawl through to the main streamway certainly didn't help matters. Ever the professional, once we were through, Dick happily returned to lay in the water to allow a photo or two to be taken.

Joining the main streamway

A warming stomp down the main streamway then soon brought us to the pitch up into Valley entrance.

The pitch up into Valley entrance

Despite being in easier cave it was once again back into the water, before popping out of the plastic pipe into warming sunlight.

It's great that the Marton Arms is back as it provided a handy stop for a post cave pint and Lee's worries about his dress (pyjamas - long story) were soon allayed by the person stood at the bar dressed as Bananaman.

16th March 2012 - Shuttleworth Pot

Sharon rediscovering the joys of all in one yellow PVC suits

Dick at the entrance

Dick and Sharon at the sump pool

(Attempt 1: Lots of (too much?) photoshop)

Dick and Sharon at the sump pool

(Attempt 2: No photoshop but not so sure about the water)

Sharon in the main gallery

Admiring some of the many features

Beautiful curtain

9th March 2012 - Cow Pot

Dick rigging the first pitch (in the light!)

Driving up the Lune valley on a pleasant afternoon, the murk hung in the distance over the hills of the Dales and Easegill lay invisible in the clag as we headed to Bull Pot farm to change. At least Cow Pot was easy to find and we weren't in for a repeat of our Boxhead experience. Rigging in the light for once Dick was soon heading down the open entrance shaft and by the time I'd arrived having tangled every bag with every bit of rigging, had located what he hoped wasn't the way on.

The "awkward" climbs leading down from the entrance shaft

Heading down the climbs wasn't actually too bad and we were soon in the great little crawl taking its sinuous route to the second pitch. This is a superb bit of Dales caving. It was going to get better though as the stream dropped away below us and the (rigged) traverse ahead became visible. Dick's shouts came thick and fast, "Rope free", "Whooo whoooooo", "Rope free"...

The view of Fall Pot, Montague East and West gained from this vantage point reminded me of being in an aeroplane for the first time, the difference in perspective from our usual passage through this bit of cave being incredible.

Landing at the bottom of Fall pot we made our way down through the boulders to the Main Drain before stomping down, through a surprising amount of water to the sump. On the return the waterfalls in the aptly named Waterfall passage were doing exactly what it says on the tin and returning to the drain, we continued upstream. Moving through the ever changing passage, I was reminded just how lucky we are to have such amazing places so close by.

The return journey, other than the terrific view once again of Fall Pot, passed without incident until we arrived at the foot of the climbs. While gravity significantly aids the descent on the way back up it causes slightly more of an issue. As Victorian climbers found, "combined tactics" will get you up most things and with assistance from ropes, jammers, knees and shoulders we both found ourselves at the foot of the entrance pitch once more.

Dick returning up the first pitch

Our thanks to the couple by the open fire in the Barbon Inn who, despite being there for a posh weekend, were happy for two muddy oiks to sit next to them.

Our apologies to the vast number of frogs, who thought it was their lucky night, but ended up under the wheels of our cars.

24th February 2012 - County Pot

The pitch in the entrance series to County Pot.


Having just arrived back from a short trip to Europe and knowing that Al hadn't been caving for nearly a month, the decision was not too hard that there was the need to fit in a quick caving trip on Friday night.  Having been thwarted in taking the definitive set of Wetched Wabbit fotos for Descent we decided to go and try to capture the essence of County Pot.   

The meanders at Broadway

Toadstool Junction

The Platypus at Playtpus Junction

Spout Hall

What do you think?  Did we succeed?

20th January 2012 - Wet Wetched Wabbit

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

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.