Simon must have thought us daft when I asked if this would be a dry
cave or a wet cave. Our experience
in South Dakota and New Mexico has been in dry caves. They were still formed by water, and you might get a little
muddy but Wind Cave and Carlsbad Cavern are essentially dry. English caves, all 7000 of them, are
wet with streams and lakes and waterfalls. No jeans and hiking boots here, but caving suits and
“wellies”, knee high rubber boots; helmets and lamps, of course, and simple
climbing harnesses, abseil brakes and carabineers.
Simon lives next door to Chris and Rose. When he isn’t tending his bees or selling quality horse feed he operates a program for at risk kids, “bad boys” he calls them, as he once was, too. Caving is a major part of the curriculum. It builds their self-esteem and teaches
them teamwork while keeping them off the streets and out of trouble. He is a fully certified caving instructor and explorer, one
of the (1) intrepid, (2) foolish, (3) insane [choose all that apply] who donned scuba gear and dive into underground lakes and rivers to see where they go. He gave up cave diving when his
daughter Isabel was born and he realized how many mates he had lost
underground.
Before we began our descent, Simon took Chris and Rose into a former
“show cave” to give them a tiny taste of what caving is like. Sadly these were the only photos we
have of the day. I couldn’t bring
my expensive camera into Kingsvale and I forgot to take photos while we were
all kitted out.
Our previous caving experiences consisted of crawling on hands and knees or
squirming on bellies through tight fissures in the rock. Kingsvale was formed by rushing water
that completely filled the tunnels, leaving them as nearly perfect arches. Unfortunately they are often only a
meter high. Crouching and
duck-walking takes a heavy toll on a 64-year old body like mine. My back and quads got the worst and if
not for the helmet I would have been knocked senseless dozens of times. But Simon really loves his caves
and he spent a lot of time showing us speliotherms like stalactites,
stalagmites, draperies, columns, fossils and more.
Wellies aren’t worn to keep feet dry – you are guaranteed to find
water deeper than they are – but once they fill up your body head warms the
water inside; fine until the next deep spot. Sometimes we were able to “stem” across swift, deep bits by
straddling the stream with feet pressed against opposite walls. Traction was surprisingly good making
this feel more like canyoneering in Utah than caving in New Mexico.
Time seems to move at a different pace underground and it’s
impossible to guess at distances, but we eventually reached a 25-foot drop
off. This is why we wore harnesses
and carried rope. Simon rigged our
Kevlar rope to the permanent bolts fixed to the rock and explained the use of
the descenders. Caving ropes are
static unlike climbing ropes, which stretch when weighted and descents can be
hundreds of feet long. Descending
with a climber’s rappel (abseil) device would cause you to spin uncontrollably
and leave the rope a twisted snarl, so cavers use a simple mechanical braking
system.
We didn’t go much beyond the bottom of the rappel. The next section gets really wet
and Connie and I weren’t properly dressed. When Rose showed us the gear Simon left I didn’t realize the
fuzzy fleece was part of our kit.
I thought it was Rose’s bathrobe and we left it behind. No harm, no foul. We were getting cold and tired and we
had gotten the gist of caving in England.
We climbed out on a narrow aluminum caving ladder, the hardest part of
the day, then moaned and crashed and splashed our way back to the entrance.
He didn’t charge us for the day so we treated him and his family to
dinner with Chris and Rose at Banny’s famous fish and chips. It was the least we could do.
