May 1999
AttendeesThis third AIC full trip through Dowbergill, the mile long rift between Providence Pot and Dow Cave, was undertaken in order to take photos. At the time of writing, the photos are not back, but I'm not overly optimistic about their quality. Whilst Dowbergill is a great through route, the high rift is not particularly photogenic and I suspect that they'll be mostly of the "person in caving suit with brown rock" variety. Never mind, the trip may have achieved some kind of record for the youngest person to complete the full traverse (Owen, currently 12). If anyone reading this knows differently, please let me know.
In order to allow a safe through trip (avoiding either lengthy traverses or hazardous free climbs) I went in by myself late on Saturday afternoon to rig the 5m. climb. The cave was not entirely empty of people, there being a large group of novices with two instructors in Dow Cave itself. On arriving at the head of the pitch I'd gone in to rig I was more than slightly surprised to find that the very same group of three cavers whom I'd met at this point before were there again, having been turned back by the squeeze just before Brew Chamber; thoroughly bizarre given that this was only their second trip into the cave and my first time in since meeting them six months earlier! We assured each other that we did not, in fact, live there, but incredulity remained on both sides I suspect.
After rigging the pitch I headed out (cautiously, this solo caving business being a bit scary), only to meet the large group just as they started to come through the duck. Judging by their comments the chest deep water was not entirely to everyone's taste, certainly not to mine after I'd waited for some time to get through! Soon after this, back in Kettlewell, I bumped into the three cavers from Sunderland again for a pint at the Racehorses and an attempted description of the route from Providence Pot to where I'd met them. Just as they left, Barny, Matthew and Owen turned up; great timing!
The evening progressed as might be expected (a beer or two), the most noteworthy comment being from Owen during a conversation about the various ages at which people are allowed to do things in the UK. In relation to the ability of sixteen year olds to get married, but not to buy alcohol, Owen asked: "What's the point of getting married if you can't have a few beers on your wedding night?" - a classic! I look forward to asking him to answer this question again in a few years time.
Despite ordering breakfast before 0900 the following day, we didn't get underground at Providence Pot until around midday, Matthew boldly going first into the disturbing, dribbly, feet-first slot at the bottom of the entrance shaft. By this time there was already some concern about the water level in the lower part of the streamway since we'd met two cavers who knew the route and were going in from the Dow Cave end in case the duck was sumped after the overnight rain.
Just before the short calcite slope which leads into the distasteful "blasted crawl" Owen and Matthew changed into their dry suits in a, mostly successful, attempt to stay warm and dry during the trip. This did make them a little more bulky than before, but they still had a distinct advantage over Barny and me in the tighter bits. We had a short length of rope with us and this was employed to assist Owie and Matt in the descent to "The Dungeon" and then a couple of times in the scrambles over boulders to the end of Bridge Cavern. Throughout the trip, most of the obstacles could be overcome with a little assistance in the form of shoulders or hands to stand on (much more comfortable than using the same technique with Tim and his steel toe caps!)
Barny and I had worked out that we ought to meet the two people doing the trip from Dow Cave somewhere in the Bridge Cavern area. We didn't, but the canal immediately beyond it seemed to be no deeper than on previous trips so we carried on. The next section, which involves a good deal of scrambling over high boulders in a wet passage, sometimes with waist deep water, took some time, but in a few places Matt and Owie were able to go under obstacles rather than over, which reduced the need for the time consuming rope a little. Eventually we reached 800 yards chamber, the half way point of the rift, at exactly the same time as the other two emerged from the downstream direction; another coincidence. This was something of a relief since it meant that the duck was passable, but given that they were fairly large and had done the whole of the trip traversing high up in the roof (not something which I'd wish to do, with or without Owen and Matthew) it didn't give us much indication of the water levels lower down. Nevertheless, Barny and I were happy that we could get the boys through safely, having previously noted this chamber as a "turnaround" point if the others had not appeared (it's a similar amount of effort either way from here).
After a little more boulder scrambling and two squeezes in the streamway (Owen: "Squeeze? What squeeze Mike?") we quickly surmounted the first boulder choke and arrived at the main one beneath Brew Chamber. In an attempt to take some "informative photos" a good few minutes were spent here, Mike and Barny going through the contorted route, Matthew through the "Mike's not going to do that again" route (on the left) and Owie through the "ridiculously tight" route (on the right). Owie's route is so tight that he had to take his helmet off, briefly, to go through - after I put it back on, he was, theoretically, locked in place in the most remote part of Dowbergill. This whole area was time consuming as there are several short traverses and descents which required use of the rope for protection. In particular, just before the final squeeze prior to dropping back to the streamway, someone seems to have added approximately 5m. of easy traverse which certainly wasn't there last time - Dowbergill is quite clearly getting longer! Even the drop to the streamway was awkward, or rather painful, for Barny since it required a lower whilst standing on one foot, wedged in the rift. For my part, I stood on the comfortable ledge and looked on in sympathy during this stage.
Hereafter the route simply follows the deep canal to the point where I'd rigged the rope the previous day. It was here that we concluded that the water was, indeed, higher than on earlier visits, being up to Owie's neck for most of the next few hundred metres. The other exciting revelation was that water was entering Matthew's suit via the zip at the back and we received regular, commendably stoical, updates as to how "full" it was getting. Given that this seemed to be the main leak, Matt spent the rest of the trip carrying a rather substantial quantity of water around inside his clothing! To further compound the general slowing down at this stage, it transpired that, although Owen was certainly the thinnest of the group, the constriction in the canal, which is about waist height for me, was about chest height for Owie - this is not his thinnest bodily area - he was frequently having to struggle to get through. The result of this was that Barny ended up carrying Owie for a long section and finally, towards the end, perfected the technique of walking along with the self-acclaimed "King Caver" standing upright on his shoulders, which was remarkably effective.
Reaching the rope and struggling up it warmed everyone to a more comfortable level and the remaining few ups and downs were crossed rapidly, with the group reaching the cars at a little before 1900. Not exactly the most speedy of Dowbergill through trips, and probably no photos of great note, but it was extremely pleasing to have taken Matthew and Owen safely through a fairly serious route.
April 1999
AttendeesA traditionally short notice meet was agreed upon on Thursday evening to take advantage of the newly available, and, for future reference, palatial, accommodation in Manchester provided by Miss (slapped wrist - see, I am responsive to visitor input) Ms J.Wyburd, a trifling 20 miles from the caving areas of Derbyshire. Unfortunately no suitable caves could be found in Derbyshire so the meet rapidly became a Yorkshire trip. Bull Pot of the Witches was deemed a good venue since only one of the group (Mike) had previously been down it, the walk-in is under 100m. and the length would be suitable for Jocelyn to walk the 9 or 10 miles to the Marton Arms in about the same time as the underground party took. (J had been strangely unenthusiastic about the idea of our taking either her or Zak underground - odd that).
As is customary, Barny arrived in Ingleton from North Wales on time and Mike/Jocelyn were 15 minutes late due to a failure to go to sleep at a sensible time. At this stage the team was already one member down as Matthew had decided to roller-blade instead. Pushing the principle of 'late starts' to its limit a leisurely lunch saw us signing the blackboard at Bull Pot Farm at somewhat after 1500. By this time, the objectives had changed, BP of the Ws being deemed a bit easy and a bit short; instead, the last remaining 'major entrance' into the Ease Gill system proper had been deemed the route of choice; namely, in Pool Sink and out County via the delightful and spacious Manchester Bypass. J made her walk up to a solid 12 miles by accompanying us as far as the entrance to County Pot (which Barny went into and rigged since it was his idea to do this route - seems fair to me).
The team was finally underground no later than 1630, leaving the splendid, warm, April sunshine for a rather constricted tube with a couple of 'Tim-stopper' zig zags. Pool Sink proved to be an excellent entrance to the system; it's a beautifully clean (it can be very 'sporting' apparently) stream passage with four entertaining pitches leading to some superb passages and eventually emerging just below Holbeck Junction - 100m. upstream of Stop Pot. Owen managed to stay dry on the last, crawling, section of this route by means of finding a devious offshoot of the main passage which had presumably been formed by a slightly over-sized earthworm; those of a larger dimension got a little damp here. For the first time, at least for us in the context of trips into Ease Gill, the rope was pulled down from the first (20m) pitch without prior knowledge of the way through to Holbeck Junction, which added an extra degree of excitement to the route-finding further down.
Emerging pleasingly clean, albeit a little wet, into the Ease Gill Main Drain, the team then headed down to Stop Pot, up the ladder and into the muddy wonderland of the Manchester Bypass. Mention was made at this point of the general 'Tim-unfriendliness' of this route and the fine effort which had transported said Tim through here a few weeks earlier. Owen demonstrated his prowess at tight caving by having no difficulty in this section, though he had earlier managed to become stuck in a slot, requiring assistance to remove him; as might be expected, this had caused a fair degree of amusement.
Whilst it was still light at the County Pot exit, the Sun was not exactly visible and The Marton Arms was reached just before 2100 to find a somewhat chilly and very tired Jocelyn and Zak sitting outside (since 1920) as they don't allow canines inside the place.
Overall, a great trip and one to be repeated at some point.
April 1999
AttendeesThe meet this weekend was well-attended, with 40% of the 'core' club membership attending (namely Mike and Barny). In a break with tradition, Mike arrived nearly an hour early at Ingleton, meeting an on-time Barny at the Wheatsheaf at 1300. Prior plans to enter Ease Gill late afternoon were aborted at 1400 due to the inability to drink any more and still drive legally, resulting in departure from the cars at 1530 and entry to Top Sink c.1700. A rope was judiciously (and fatally - for the traverse) dropped down Link Pot on the way in, facilitating avoidance of both the Wet Wallows (flat out in water, head on the side) and Pippikin (tight and vertical) if required.
Top Sink and the notoriously complex Limerick Junction were despatched relatively rapidly and succeeded by a fairly quick wander through the High Level Route from Stop Pot to Stake Pot (having been through here seven times now, Mike was actually able to accurately remember the way and not make any mistakes at all). The supposedly tricky Stake Pot series proved, well, tricky really, as Mike completely failed to find the way yet again and valuable minutes were lost. The 10m. Cannuck Climb proved to have been modified in the last couple of months, the stout chain ladder attached to an equally stout metal bracket having been replaced with an electron ladder (wire thing) attached to a cruddy old bolt - fortunately, this is not apparent from the bottom so fears were allayed admirably, only retrospective worry being in evidence when examining said attachment point. Alas, since Barny had the rope and Mike had gone first, both club members ascended on said dubious bolt.
Soon after this the team were once more searching for the 88' pitch from Long Gallery (OK, Barny was, Mike having scared himself silly on a recent solo visit to this area). After only a few minutes the elusive aven was found and proved to be a really spectacular descent, a superb, soaring aven. Caution prevailed once more as Barny's 45m. rope was left in situ, despite the fact that the pitch was pre-rigged.
The Lower Streamway passages (those of 'flooding to the roof when the water is running in Lower Ease Gill' fame) were thankfully not flooded and provided very rapid and easy progress to the foot of Echo Aven in Link Pot. Whipping up this 30m. pitch, again, another superb aven, took us to the point we'd reached from Pippikin 5 days earlier. The traverse was complete, sort of. (To be fair, the existence of Link Pot makes the Greater Traverse artificial since it's perverse to carry on when one can escape to daylight in a few minutes).
Henceforth the rot set in. Calculating that we'd been down about 4 hours we realised that the pub would still be open - from near the top of Echo Aven it's a mere 15 minute struggle up the tight exit of Link Pot to the exterior - add to that a 30 minute walk and we'd still be within pub opening hours. The alternative, 250m of flat out crawling, often in water, to Dusty Junction, followed by a laborious ascent of the Pippikin squeezes (combined with the fact that there were a fair few parties listed as being down Pippikin that day) led to the "we've done it, let's head for the pub" decision. After a brief panic when the team looked up and couldn't see the previously placed rope - only to find that we were looking up the wrong slot, we arrived back at the cars an hour or so later, to find that it was actually 2330 - bummer. As a backup, we retired to a 'local' motorway service station for an 0200 breakfast (0300 due to the clocks changing), and finally retired to the luxurious bliss of the car seats for some 'well earned' rest at 0330.
So, the club now knows the way through the Ease Gill Greater Traverse.
Mike is hereby bound to carry the unpleasantly waterlogged, heavy rope on the next major traverse (though the metalwork was heavy too, honestly!).
May 1999
AttendeesSun! Remarkable; an entire Bank Holiday weekend of hot and sunny weather. This phenomenon also led to the first of the three minor injuries sustained over the weekend, Mike having sat in the garden of the Wheatsheaf for three hours, in a vest, during the hottest part of the day and consequently having burnt his shoulders somewhat (leads to distinct tenderness on scraping along cave walls; not recommended). On another burning issue, this trip probably takes the record for overall volume of fossil fuel consumed, all three attendees bringing their own cars. After all there's plenty of room in the Marton Arms car park isn't there?!
By the time Tim arrived at 1500 he was the only one able to drive away from the pub (he having suffered a bit of a delay on the M6 and being a couple of hours late) and so, leaving Ingleton at 1630, we agreed to forego caving for the day and attempt flight once more, using Barny's parapente. Having found a suitable venue, quite some time was then spent watching Mike being dragged backwards across the slope, he having not exactly mastered the art of inflating the 'chute AND making it go forwards. A couple of short flights were managed eventually though, short in this instance meaning sub-second, before Tim made the tactical error of being left "holding the seat", despite his reservations about the good sense of the enterprise. Tim also managed to take off briefly a few times and we then moved on to the second injury of the weekend.
As Barny headed down the slope the wind picked up nicely, hurtling pilot and craft across the field impressively quickly to land upside down in the biggest hollow in sight, more than once, and producing some kind of bruising to his back. Shortly thereafter, with time pressing on somewhat, we retired to the Marton Arms, bemoaning the fact that Barny's new parapenting book contained only three pages on the rather important subject of "how to launch".
A Caravan Club meeting in a local field ensured that the bar at the pub wasn't just busy but unbearably so and, after spending more time buying the first round than drinking it, we retired to Ingleton for fish and chips, or in Tim's case, a huge mound of green goo designed to firmly establish his Northern credentials. Shortly after this, at the shockingly early hour of 2230, the majority of the team went to sleep; it's tiring, this parapenting business!
No weekend in Ingleton is complete without someone handing over lots of money to Inglesport; in this instance it was Tim, who purchased a complete SRT kit the following morning, much time having been spent shuffling between the two shops prior to that in order to establish the best deal. This transaction formed the crucial precursor to minor accident number three, of which more later.
Discussion the previous evening had convinced us that the route of choice was to be Simpson's Pot and that we'd avoid Slit Pot, where the "plumper caver" is obliged to go through high up, by descending the "magnificent Great Aven pitch"; 40m. free hanging from the apex of the aven. The cave was fairly uneventful at first, Bob's Pit being traversed without incident and the first few pitches, whilst entertaining, presenting no great difficulties. We then reached what Mike had thought to be the crux, for the plumper caver anyway, a short rift ending in a pitch. As it transpired, Tim had little difficulty, avoiding the obstacle by going up high in the rift to where a couple of ledges provide an easy traverse and then descending, rather precipitously, by the popular "wedge and slide" method to the head of the pitch.
It was either on this pitch, or perhaps on the next one, that Tim employed the technique of learning by doing (doing it wrong that is) to discover what should not be done with a Petzl Stop descender and hence producing minor injury number three. As he approached the floor (for which read "fortuitously large and flat rock") he released the live rope and squeezed the braking handle, in that order. Unlike our earlier parapenting experience, this naturally produced free-fall, albeit only for about a metre, so terminal velocity was not attained. Luckily the landing site was, as described, fairly flat and he also managed to land on one of his more heavily padded areas; nevertheless, the resultant sound, that of a heavy, relatively solid object hitting an effectively immobile object, was most impressive. After this the mantra "don't let go of the live rope" was to be heard more or less constantly! This incident must surely have produced an impressive bruise, but the other members were spared the sight of it. (Perhaps Julia could verify the extent of the damage?)
We soon reached the head of Aven pot, from whence a traverse above it leads to a splendid, small chamber with the Great Aven pitch tucked away in a corner. On at least two prior occasions this initial traverse has proved too daunting and the continuation has been via Slit Pot. This time though, Barny, being decidedly happier about traverses than anyone else, led across the void and declared it easy. This was certainly true, it's a great deal more secure than it looks, particularly for Mike and Tim, who had the benefit of a top rope! It also proved to be well worth the effort, the series of small chambers and passages at the top being very fine indeed.
The belay for the Great Aven pitch is described in the book as being "a clump of slings having dubious vintage"; what it doesn't mention is that these slings are looped around a chockstone about the size of two fists and wedged into a flaring crack - not one hundred per cent reassuring but probably a good bit safer than it looks! Barny went first, with the ropes backed up to a bolt which was positioned in a particularly useless place for a pull through. Some time later the rope went slack, relieving us of the concern that the 40m. ropes might not quite reach the bottom of this 41m. pitch.! Tim followed and squeezed through the initial gap just before the pitch emerges into space; this was quite a relief to Mike who'd been pondering the difficulty of retrieving Tim from there had he become wedged! Mike finally descended, very gingerly, not wishing the ropes, which were rigged for a single line descent, to lock up at the top, which would have required him to go back up to retrieve them. Given the nature of the belay, using a double rope method of descent in future would be a much better idea (though the length of the pitch makes a Stop easier).
From then on exit was fairly swift and we emerged at around 1700; in time to return Tim's helmet and for Barny and Mike to further improve their parapente technique before retiring to the Marton Arms for a meal and the odd drink or two.
The following morning, Barny left early whilst Mike and Tim took advantage of Tim's SRT kit purchase to use the Inglesport climbing wall for free for a couple of hours. We had the whole place to ourselves, which was most pleasing and avoided embarrassment, and Tim practised ascent, reversal and descent whilst Mike traversed at ceiling height. Finally, a mid-rope rescue was performed, Tim being the casualty, and proved remarkably easy (though two metres above a nice, soft crash mat in a well lit climbing wall probably makes this technique somewhat simpler than it would be underground).
Yet another fine weekend, and it's provided the inspiration for a possible two day parapenting course for Mike and Tim sometime this Summer - probably also to be attended by Jocelyn. Anyone else interested?
May 1999
AttendeesYet another impromptu caving meet, decided over ICQ on Thursday night before the trip on the Sunday. It was, however, notable in that I arrived a full hour before Barny at a very fine pub, The Quiet Woman, in Earl Sterndale, near Buxton. I'd been rushing to get there for 2100 in the hope of getting food but needn't have worried as they only had pork pies; these are, however, really excellent, highly recommended and complete with sauces. This is such a good pub that a couple of the tables are actually dominos boards and they sell eggs behind the bar! It didn't actually have a lock in as such, but we were still there at 0230 or thereabouts.
Surprisingly early the next morning saw us at the cafe in Stoney Middleton and we must have been at the entrance to the pot by 1100 or so. The way in is about three metres vertically into a shaft which has a lid on and a dustbin for the top bit. I'd failed to register the generally constricted nature of the cave from the guidebook, though grade IV with no pitches really ought to have been a bit of a giveaway, and I was somewhat surpised to find the first section to be roughly ten metres, feet first, on my back! Thereafter we quickly found a couple of junctions which confirmed that we were indeed in the correct hole.
Relatively little time was spent route-finding, not like an Ease Gill trip by any stretch of the imagination. The cave is something like 700m. in, most of it being either crawling or flat out. The only real pauses were where the way on looked particularly improbable or unpleasant. In this instance 'unpleasant' generally meant pushing, headfirst, into a tight, wet contortion with the prospect of several metres of flat-out in water to come. One of the more intimidating obstacles, the mousehole, was far easier than is suggested by its name; fair enough, it was flat out, but either they have desperately deformed rodents in the Peak or someone was exaggerating. This particular section was also the best place to see the remarkable 'oyster layers' of which this area is formed. It would seem that a seriously large number of oysters died at some point, in rapid succession, and the result is oyster strata about 500mm. thick throughout the cave - not nice to touch, but fortunately they're mostly on the roof rather than the floor.
'The Nervous Breakdown', a jumble of blocks in the streamway which the route goes through, over and under had sounded like the worst bit but proved to be not too tricky and we were soon able to stand up in one of the two avens in the cave (which was a nice change). Reaching the far end we found a dig, shored up with timber of dubious age and soft to the touch; I went a little way up this but didn't push it to the end as I was unhappy about the stability of the tight passage which I was in.
A short detour on the way back took us to the 'Lu Blue Sump' which is, as it's name suggests, a sump coloured very much like the blue stuff you can put down toilets - bizarre, and almost worth going in for that alone! I took several photos here but none were any good, alas, failing to show the colour of the water. The most peculiar thing about the route was that it had seemed a fairly long way in but the reversal took, seemingly, no time at all. My only explanation for this is that much faffing was done on the way in along the lines of: "That looks really tight, awkward, wet and generally unpleasant - who's going first?". With the possible exception of trips in the tighter bits of Ease Gill, this cave probably achieved the record for overall muddiness upon exit, though the warm April sunshine did allow washing in a stream on the way back to the cars.
This is undoubtedly a very worthwhile trip, though a couple of points could prove problematic for the more generously proportioned cavers in the club.
January 1999
AttendeesThis report will be lacking in detail since it's being written more than four months after the meet took place. Nevertheless, it's worth recording as a reminder to Tim that he has vowed to repeat it at some, as yet mysteriously unspecified, point in "the future".
Abnormally, if not quite uniquely, for an AIC trip, this one was a day trip from my house, which is fairly practical for the Peak District, being only a little over two hours each way.
We managed to arrive in Buxton before midday, hired a helmet for Tim, and were at the cave entrance soon after having had lunch in a pub. I'd warned Tim about "The Vice" a short constriction towards the lower end of the famous, twisting streamway called the "Crabwalk" but he was much encouraged when we met a van full of novices at the parking area since one of them was quite significantlly larger than himself. Alas, this proved a false hope as their leader told us that they'd only been as far as the top of Garlands Pot, the pitch a short way in, and had therefore only been wandering around in spacious passageways. Nonetheless, I had no real expectation of a problem with the Crabwalk constrictions and we were soon at the head of Garlands Pot.
The Crabwalk starts at the bottom of the 8m. pitch and proceeds for around 500m. as a high, convoluted rift streamway. Much to my surprise Tim was having to push himself through several of the narrower bits as his chest was simply too big to easily pass through. As a result, by the time we arrived at the Vice he was already a little tired from the effort of forcing himself down through the various tight bits. The guidebook says, of this feature: "passing this can involve a short wallow in the stream for all but the skinniest people". Contemplating the obstacle, it was apparent that, whilst Tim did not fall into this category of subterranean traveller, nor did he fall into the "it will be immediately apparent that you can't get through this bit" category. It finally transpired, after ten minutes or more of struggle, that the appropriate category for Tim was "just a little bit too big to get through here". This was most unfortunate since attempting to pass the Vice had required prolonged lying down in the streamway. To add to the discomfort, this is one of the few places in the whole of the Crabwalk where water is falling from above; the net result was that Tim spent a long time being soaked to the skin by icy water as he tried various contortions, including feet first, head first and on both sides; all failed. Eventually, wishing to avoid further discomfort, hypothermia or death we decided to give up the idea of a round trip through the "Giant's windpipe" and head out back up the Crabwalk.
Even the retreat was problematic as Tim was now rather tired and cold and he became mildly wedged at a couple of points on the way out. Still, the effort of pushing back up the streamway helped to warm him up and we were back at Garlands Pot reasonably soon to end on a high point, Tim's jumaring technique having mysteriously improved since his last rope ascent.
It being January, we arrived at the car with our caving clothes already becoming crisp with frost, only to find that it was so cold that the non-caving garments, into which we were looking forward to changing, were also slightly frozen! Commendably, within an hour, having ensconsed ourselves by a fire in a local pub, Tim vowed to return once the new, svelte, gym-toned version of his body had been created. At the time, this was in plan for "sometime later this year" - it's now May, so 7 months remaining on that one...
