tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60347548704201388262024-03-19T04:38:47.423+00:00Edvin's Caving BlogEdvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.comBlogger54125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-85828892512437218192015-08-26T13:20:00.001+01:002015-08-26T16:53:21.264+01:00A Traverse of the Brenta Dolomites<div style="text-align: justify;">
I seem to have the same love-hate relationship with via ferratas as I do with caving. As I'm clinging to a frayed metal cable half way up a cliff, legs shaking on a rusty stemple, it's not unusual for me to swear that this will be my last via ferrata and that when I get to the top, I will pack it all in and take up a hobby that involves sitting down. Yet later, when I've stopped hyperventilating, the vomitous terror of a kilometre of space beneath my feet seems to slip from my mind. I think to myself, "it can't really have been all that bad, can it?"</div>
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That's why Stuart was able to persuade me, along with Kathryn and Adrian, to join him on a 4-day hut-to-hut via ferrata trip in the Brenta Dolomites.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A first view of the Brenta Dolomites and Cima Tosa.</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>We had a couple of days in the vicinity of Madonna di Campiglio prior to starting our route proper. However, drizzle and clag prevented us from getting any view of the mountains. With the forecast not much better for the coming days, we began our ascent from Vallesinella (at 1500m) expecting the morning sun not to last.</div>
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The route began with a stiff 900m ascent, past the Rifugios Casinei and al Brentei. Impossible limestone pillars towered up to 3000m altitude from the scree slopes above us, Cima Tosa, the highest point in the Brenta Dolomites, among them. Now above the cloud line, the via ferrata itself traversed out across the cliffs of the Ponte di Campiglio on a series of reasonably comfortable ledges, apart from one un-cabled section in a crawling sized notch. Occasionally the clouds would swirl away, affording us brief glimpses of vertical drops and wooded valleys, far below. Eventually an awkward climb down some iron staples and an upwards ladder led to another set of ledges, where we met another British pair, and an Italian with his young son, all of whom (except for the son) were quite happily sauntering along with no gear.<br />
"We didn't realise it would be like this," said one of the Brits, before continuing up the staples, completely unperturbed. </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayB_FL4E5OpFTLCRozioEEfaQuyZw85m7jqjBPLRA8QPH9qmVa0jCrRSGYezLfSRXEgsFCHBdCteeFt8CTzuu7nSOshhaOslkTMx5mE8NV1qaofvgRVc3xFY_ni3GRqCJQ38QH-M-CuY/s1600/IMG_4945s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiayB_FL4E5OpFTLCRozioEEfaQuyZw85m7jqjBPLRA8QPH9qmVa0jCrRSGYezLfSRXEgsFCHBdCteeFt8CTzuu7nSOshhaOslkTMx5mE8NV1qaofvgRVc3xFY_ni3GRqCJQ38QH-M-CuY/s320/IMG_4945s.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down onto ledges.</td></tr>
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The ledges ended at a house-sized boulder field (the boulders, not the field), and as we lost some altitude, we emerged from the clouds to a view of Rifugio Tuckett, our stop for the first night.</div>
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The altitude (and perhaps several beers) were enough to ensure a disturbed night's sleep, but nevertheless at 7:30am the following day we were trudging up towards the vedretta (small glacier) below the pass of Bocca del Tuckett. At the pass, we began the Via delle Bochette, the backbone of the Dolomitic via ferrata route. More altitude was gained via a series of crags, sometimes with a wire or a ladder, never with both, and often with neither. Thankfully the cloud went a long way towards hiding the true scale of the exposure, as we began another long traverse of a system of ledges. We were soon overtaken by a friendly Italian, happily spurning any protection, and commenting that we must be loving the British weather. We pointed out that it wasn't raining, a comment we would later rue.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjnc-wgv9avcJ54yfU_SGIN6HxtJ-vHxRW2Er1c6iBCiTW_x2GUr7KIsIqhJxDI_EzIAucu-mmm6r0sv4BIHGnJu21GnAmKyjQe6TbBCWkzFPjCg5RNiDd5jFnfTextcV6xbG0jso3T2c/s1600/IMG_4958s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjnc-wgv9avcJ54yfU_SGIN6HxtJ-vHxRW2Er1c6iBCiTW_x2GUr7KIsIqhJxDI_EzIAucu-mmm6r0sv4BIHGnJu21GnAmKyjQe6TbBCWkzFPjCg5RNiDd5jFnfTextcV6xbG0jso3T2c/s320/IMG_4958s.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Climbing the Vedretta.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Three hours later, a series of ladders led us down to a lunch spot near a tiny 10m wide pass, separating two of the great limestone pillars. A bit of scrambling over rubble, and another snow slope in the Bocca dei Armi led us to the start of the next long section of the Via delle Bochette. This was similar in character to the morning: height gain via a series of ladders; a long traverse on ledges; then dropping down via a series of scrambles, ladders and wires.<br />
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Unfortunately, the minute we stepped onto the first set of ladders, the mist turned to rain. I rapidly discovered that via ferratas in the rain are quite slippery, with my boots providing next to no traction on the metalwork or the limestone slabs. On more than one occasion my feet vanished from under me and I slithered down the slabs until my cowstails caught me.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NZdh9r40hfAxCFH5FuOxtZT55vS34eQYm_8Vlwd7vGxOTnjdrxaju5Zq-GhvWDCJNh5CXY53oGbqsGVZHgdBBy1mCChRmNxHg1nRB5FRPut8xWH3FL2UNIrpXQgp4T-RyqshWr-uyS4/s1600/IMG_4984s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8NZdh9r40hfAxCFH5FuOxtZT55vS34eQYm_8Vlwd7vGxOTnjdrxaju5Zq-GhvWDCJNh5CXY53oGbqsGVZHgdBBy1mCChRmNxHg1nRB5FRPut8xWH3FL2UNIrpXQgp4T-RyqshWr-uyS4/s320/IMG_4984s.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Via ferrata in the rain.</td></tr>
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The ledges proved especially damp. Water run-off from the non-vegetated dolomitic pillars above us was near instant. And the only place for the sheets of water to go was straight onto the ledges, and directly in our path. Thank god we'd thought to pack our stuff into drybags!<br />
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Finally, 10 hours after setting off from Rifugio Tuckett (and 10 minutes before the rain stopped) we caught our first glimpse of Rifugio Tosa, only a few minutes away. It is little exaggeration to say that we arrived no drier than if we had swum there. On seeing Stuart, the hut warden said, "you might like to know that we have a drying room downstairs." Never has a throwaway phrase been so welcome (although "here is your hot chocolate", "here is your beer" and "here is your beer again" were also pretty good).<br />
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Day three greeted us with clear skies. The true majesty of the Dolomites was revealed: huge views of wooded valleys kilometres below, and limestone pillars soaring above into eddying clouds. But as we walked along the Sentiero Brentari, above a rubble moonscape, something was preying heavily on my mind...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYn-yxog3UtDdF_UaPRgrSAiQqeLAqrNIJkkHZCgyZFX1muHc4xC0r5bSY7KCZKYu7d4jiBMh8IapQ_8w9DDXCwWmQGpflDpPgKoSCP6kIfqKAQr_k77_eUikrCVHcNYN1lgsjbUnakc/s1600/IMG_4994s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHYn-yxog3UtDdF_UaPRgrSAiQqeLAqrNIJkkHZCgyZFX1muHc4xC0r5bSY7KCZKYu7d4jiBMh8IapQ_8w9DDXCwWmQGpflDpPgKoSCP6kIfqKAQr_k77_eUikrCVHcNYN1lgsjbUnakc/s320/IMG_4994s.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from partway up Cima Tosa.</td></tr>
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I seem to have the same love-hate relationship with climbing as I do with via ferratas and caving. Stuart had expressed an interest in a 2 hour detour to the summit of Cima Tosa, involving a couple of short pitches. And it was almost inevitable that I was going to force myself to join him.<br />
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In truth the rock climbing was probably no harder than Diff in standard. But when there is that much space around, it messes badly with my head. So as Stuart began shinning up the climb, I hurriedly passed him our paltry Decathlon 8mm 'walking rope' so I could at least pretend to be protected.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Jk6mFvBZgQ3niJNPxHtuzccJTj0DvNWRwFp1tcUJa_XaQLvWhpJAMVx2pjEB9qYEfTimMZ7ITTRcHKA-dag_jThSEHVl7WhIfXNz7ODDJYPPsD5jOE_pHXyLSZEzFOe2RG3H3RsYqJo/s1600/IMG_5000s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Jk6mFvBZgQ3niJNPxHtuzccJTj0DvNWRwFp1tcUJa_XaQLvWhpJAMVx2pjEB9qYEfTimMZ7ITTRcHKA-dag_jThSEHVl7WhIfXNz7ODDJYPPsD5jOE_pHXyLSZEzFOe2RG3H3RsYqJo/s320/IMG_5000s.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking down the gully on Cima Tosa.</td></tr>
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For several metres above the climb, things appeared to be just has difficult and exposed, but eventually we found ourselves scrambling more easily up a huge rocky bowl, following a line of cairns. An hour later we were stood at the 3173m snowy summit of Cima Tosa. A gully to one side afforded a view of Rifugio al Brentei, a kilometre below. To the north, the Marmolada range was visible.<br />
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Returning towards where Kathryn and Adrian were waiting, we slowly grew accustomed to the terrain and exposure, and made rapid progress down to the top of the pitches. We encountered an Italian guide with clients at this point. Once Stuart belayed me down, the guide apparently commented on our rope, and the two of them converged towards conversing in German, being the only common language. Nonetheless, it was never clear whether the guide was impressed by our lightweight approach to the climb, or thought we were utter numpties!<br />
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The next stretch of via ferrata led along another series of mid-cliff ledges to a suite of ladders down onto the icy Vedretta d'Ambies. After slithering past a couple of small crevasses, a fair chunk of height was lost, only to be gained again with a sweaty walk above the Rifugio Agostini.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfaTruCYez4CxxefS778iW2l274Fpq-P27439wiTEootnwy93IwECgJXgymcqt3zCRDM2GNvogAU8tgueB8hWPk3BSCHTACtF8AwpztuHZn05AmV2UYF9747l7uWrMUqEgic7urFjyu0/s1600/IMG_5043s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKfaTruCYez4CxxefS778iW2l274Fpq-P27439wiTEootnwy93IwECgJXgymcqt3zCRDM2GNvogAU8tgueB8hWPk3BSCHTACtF8AwpztuHZn05AmV2UYF9747l7uWrMUqEgic7urFjyu0/s320/IMG_5043s.JPG" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ladder climbing in the cloud.</td></tr>
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With clouds billowing in once more, we began our final via ferrata of the day: 13 ladders leading almost straight up 200m to a tiny <span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">brèche. From here we were afforded a fine view through thin clouds to the Rifugio Dodici Apostoli, our stop for the night, far below. Rain began to set in as we raced across snow slopes and screes and down the bouldery valley, but we arrived somewhat drier than the previous day.</span><br />
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<span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">After another fitful night's sleep, during which it became clear that the toilet smelt considerably nicer than our 4 unwashed-person dorm, we set off on our final day above a fine temperature inversion. 300m of climbing up moraine led to the Vedretta dei Camosci. The ice was as hard as rock and very steep so crampons were needed here. Now a mere 1200m of descent lay between us and the car at Vallesinella: down the great hanging valley holding the glacier, round the base of Cima Tosa to Rifugio al Brentei, and past Rifugio Casinei, where a celebratory rifugio lunch was taken.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPz_rk-3bpCJIlb6xWQ_yDEj0WcJmf3Dxn_qvkwKCMJABYV87QxSKFtFFOv3RVRUL0zN4R5tTyM1oUp_T_BEon9qLEZ_kUYgT3fuV5NsqC75IslJBB0ks_vVyl_1KDWSYls-IK8l73AEQ/s1600/IMG_5077s.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPz_rk-3bpCJIlb6xWQ_yDEj0WcJmf3Dxn_qvkwKCMJABYV87QxSKFtFFOv3RVRUL0zN4R5tTyM1oUp_T_BEon9qLEZ_kUYgT3fuV5NsqC75IslJBB0ks_vVyl_1KDWSYls-IK8l73AEQ/s320/IMG_5077s.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Vedretta dei Camosci.</td></tr>
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<span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">A minor hiccup was encountered back at the car, where a parking ticket was found on the windscreen. Tragically however, the date had washed off, and none of us could remember when we had arrived. But it was certainly within the last 24 hours anyway...</span><br />
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<span class="gt-card-ttl-txt" style="direction: ltr;">I can't recommend via ferrata in the Brenta Dolomites highly enough. Distinctive, out-of-this-world landscapes, fun ferratas and fine rifugios. What a trip!</span></div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-40173495986545849902015-02-16T19:46:00.000+00:002015-02-16T22:05:34.065+00:00The Grind Traverse14th February <br />
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After several trips that probably weren't worthy of being blogged about, I had a feeling this one might be different. Tom and Emma had dreamed up a particularly perverted itinerary for Tom's romantic birthday caving trip: a combination of the <a href="http://edvinscavingblog.blogspot.co.uk/2012/04/grind-circle.html">Grind Circle</a>, with a long Ease Gill Caverns through trip. The classic 'Greater Ease Gill Traverse' goes from <a href="http://edvinscavingblog.blogspot.co.uk/2011/06/top-sink-pippikin-pot.html">Top Sink to Pippikin Pot</a>. It's possible to do a longer trip by exiting out of Bye George Pot instead, one particularly notable obstacle being a squeeze known as The Backbreaker. Today's plan was Top Sink - Bye George, via the Grind. What better way to spend Valentine's Day?</div>
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I don't know what the collective noun for a group of cavers is, but let's say that a gaggle of potholers (9 in total) approached Top Sink at 11am, stripped off oversuits in unison and added to to the water levels in the cave. The first part of the trip went well. Easy and familiar caving, and enough people acquainted with the route, meant that, despite the group size, the landmarks came thick and fast: Holbeck Junction, Stop Pot, the high level series. It would have been perfect were it not for the constant anxiety gnawing at the back of my mind of the difficulties yet to come. We were a sweaty, sticky mess as we abseiled down the 88ft pitch to the start of the day's real objectives.<br />
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Throughout the Wormway, an angel on one shoulder was constantly whispering to me about how close to Link Pot we were. I could be at the surface in another 5 easy minutes, rather 5 hours if I ignored the turn off to the Grind! A demon on the other shoulder castigated me for such weak thoughts (well it might just have been one of the other cavers actually) and I found myself in the middle of the group as we sidled, then crawled and finally squirmed awkwardly flat out for half an hour or so through the Grind. As I lay sprawled in front of a puddle, my face resting in the gravel, whilst Holly in front of me negotiated Pickle Corner, I had the usual existential crisis which occurs on trips of this nature and resolved never to go caving again.</div>
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Little by little, we contorted ourselves through Pickle Passage's delightful S-bends, emerging from the roof tube in Easy Street, near the bottom of the Serendipity pitches, which were quite damp today. As if a switch had been flicked, most of us started to feel really cold. My balaclava, which until now had been used to mop my brow, stayed firmly on my head for the rest of the trip.<br />
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Unable to keep warm, and now quite tired, the lure of nearby Link Pot was very strong again. Tom had other designs however, and before we had time to organise a mutiny, he had dashed off ahead to leave the Serendipity ropes at the bottom of the entrance pitch and led us into the Wet Wallows and away from temptation. Strangely, I hadn't banked on the wet bits in the Wet Wallows being wet. But it was one ear, one eye and half a mouth in the water for a metre or more (and a very soggy balaclava as a result). Drenched, cold, miserable; I felt very sorry for myself. If I could just get through this little flat-out bit, I could then turn right and make a hasty exit out of Mistral Hole before anybody noticed...<br />
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But then I'd have to go back and do Bye George Pot another day. Bugger. So I decided to carry on.<br />
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In normal circumstances, the Lower Cigalère Streamway would be a brilliant bit of caving. Some fun cascade climbs, a clean washed streamway with potholes and 'nice shapes'. Then a narrow, deep canal which, if you have the energy, can be bridged on some outward sloping ledges underwater to keep you quite dry. If you don't have the energy then it's several minutes of chest deep wading to reach the bottom of the impressive Grand Cascade Pitch. Guess how much energy I had.<br />
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I got quite worried when I found I barely had enough dexterity to put my SRT kit on and wondered if the sensible option would be to throw a tantrum and get somebody to escort me back out of Mistral. But clinging onto Emma's promise that 'Bye George definitely isn't as bad as the Grind', I decided I should see if the prussic would warm me up. We would be heading out in three groups of three and on the pitch I prepared my speech to Holly and Noel at the top of the pitch, "I'm scared, tired, miserable, and probably hypothermic; you're going to have to help me out of the cave". Instead all I managed was a pathetic whimper that, "I think I might need some moral support on the way out". Holly assured me she felt similarly, which was somewhat gratifying. <br />
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To my great relief morale picked up now. In our group of three we kept a steady pace with enough squirming and sidling in the narrow passage to warm us up a bit. The early difficulties were not as horrific as I'd built them up to be - a couple of short, damp squeezes involving grovelling at floor level. And so we arrived at the Backbreaker.<br />
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The Backbreaker is a sharp 90 degree bend negotiated on your side at floor level. The problem is, if you face inwards, then (unless you are short; some people managed) your legs don't bend the right way and can't follow you round. The answer is to face outwards, hence the name. Others tell horror stories about needing to remove wellies and scrape heels from scallop to scallop...<br />
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Noel got through without difficulty, but Holly's first attempt went wrong and the resulting noises certainly made me nervous. In the end, with my helmet and bag passed through ahead of me, and Noel's guidance, I managed to pop through first time and felt a great clichéd weight lifting from my shoulders.<br />
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The surface was tantalisingly close now, just a little more thrutching, an easy squeeze and a short pitch and we were there! Clambering out of the Bye George entrance tube, the lights from Leck Fell House were only a few hundred metres away and it became apparent how much distance we'd covered.<br />
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We staggered back to Bull Pot Farm via Link Pot to pick up the gear left earlier, and warmed our swollen knees and stiff backs in front of the fire. A great trip in great company. God alone knows how Tom, Becka, Emma and co. managed to stay so chirpy and fresh for the whole trip, despite carrying some tackle out of Bye George - but thanks for all the pre-rigging and tackle carrying!<br />
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I expect I'll go caving again at some point.</div>
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T/U 9 hrs</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-91788118741780367152014-09-01T21:32:00.000+01:002014-09-01T21:34:45.048+01:00The Gouffre Berger and Other Summer Adventures<div style="text-align: justify;">
I spent a week on the joint Red Rose and CSCA (army caving club) expedition back in August. Only being there for the first week of the expedition, I was always unlikely to have a chance of getting to the bottom, although frustratingly as it turned out, a couple of days longer would have been sufficient.</div>
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Nonetheless, some fine caving was done. The first trip (12th August, 6 hrs), with Adrian, went as far as the top of Aldo's pitch, helping to ferry the small mountain of rope and camping gear that needed to make its way down the cave. Aldo's Pitch is basically the final (42m) pitch before 'the big stuff' starts at -250m. As far as this, the cave consists of several dry pitch series separated by huge winding rifts a metre of so wide which are negotiated far above the floor with traverse lines in place. Fun and pleasant caving.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Salle des Treize - the stal at the back are as high as two people.</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>After a morning of rain the following day had prevented any caving from happening, we were raring to go when it dried up. Stuart and I were joined by two CSCA cavers and formed one of several groups carrying gear from where it had been left near Aldo's Pitch down to Camp 1 at about -500m.</div>
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Soon after Aldo's Pitch the cave gets huge - undoubtedly the largest passage I have ever been in. The main stream flows down this passage and we followed it, via a couple of small pitches, for several hundred metres before it disappeared into boulders (it is rejoined lower down). Partway down we crossed Lake Cadoux, either in a dinghy or using a traverse line to the side. Once we had lost the stream we spent a while in the Grand Eboulis, navigating the huge boulder strewn highway down to Camp 1, a small cuboid made out of space blankets.</div>
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Whilst camp was being set up , Stuart and I had a look at the Salle des Treize just beyond - a fitting turning around point, with it's deep, blue gour pools and person-sized stalagmites. With three fewer tackle sacks to carry (admittedly one had been full of roll mats), the journey out was quite pleasant. in total, the trip took us 7.5 reasonably leisurely hours. A trip to Camp 1 is an absolutely brilliant day out. But I have unfinished business with this cave!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Both photos are of the Grotte de Gournier entrance lake.</td></tr>
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Interspersed with the caving in the Berger, much fun was had doing other activities. I did my first (and last) via corda, which is like a 'bring your own cable' via ferrata. This is as terrifying as it sounds. The Furon and Ecouges canyons were jumped, swum and abseiled down. Finally we had a quick 2.5 hour trip into the Grotte de Gournier, swimming across the entrance lake (we had no boat) and pootling around the dry upper level taking photos.</div>
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After my week in the Vercors, I picked up Kathryn from Nice airport and we had a very pleasant couple of weeks in the south of France doing further canyons and via ferratas and making much use of Daniel Start's excellent <a href="http://www.wildswimming.co.uk/wild-swimming-france/">'Wild Swimming: France'</a> book.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'The Styx' - part of the Verdon Gorge</td></tr>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-5893463599365082762014-06-28T22:42:00.000+01:002014-06-29T21:34:06.464+01:00Magnetometer Pot28 June 2014<br />
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On my only previous visit to Magnetometer Pot we'd managed to miss all the good bits by sliding down a tiny slot quite close to the entrance and spending a couple of fruitless hours exploring some small and scrotty passages, so I was glad of a chance to go back and have a proper look around today. It was also my first caving trip for over a month and my first blog for even longer. Mea culpa on both accounts!</div>
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Nine of us converged on Fountains Fell. Adorned with varying quantities of neoprene, we made our way down the laddered entrance pitch and a couple of hand-lined climbs. A long crawl in elbow deep water was the next obstacle. This was quite pleasant in a wetsuit as the water could take some of the weight of my torso (which is not a lot of weight admittedly, but these days is more than my arms can manage). A long dry crawl followed, and my arms were already feeling tired due, in part, to the resistance of my wetsuit. And also my puniness.</div>
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We now entered the River Styx - a fine stooping-height stream passage with an elliptical cross section and decorated ceiling. Eventually we reached the ladder down into Caton Hall, where Steph and Phil turned round.</div>
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Below Caton Hall, the character of the cave changed considerably. The 'Rough Crawl' was crawling or flat-out, but with a sharp floor full of milled potholes (some of them over a metre deep) and flowing water. Neoprene was a boon here, not just for warmth but for padding too - oversuits took a battering. The interesting if arduous passage eventually led to a duck, with a flat-out bypass.</div>
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I decided to challenge myself and try the duck. I'm usually rubbish at them - by which I mean they are too scary. But today I had specifically packed my secret weapon - a neoprene hood. The water was chest deep, but the ceiling pinched in overhead leaving only a small triangle of airspace, a few inches at most. Attempt number 1 resulted in unpleasant coughing and spluttering as my head bounded off the ceiling and I ended up underwater. I rapidly realised that the advice to tackle ducks on your back does not mean 'reverse into them with your head above the water'. For attempt 2, I floated on my back and ever so slowly edged my way through, pressing my nose and mouth into the small triangle of airspace. Success! This felt like a major achievement in my caving career and, frankly I was expecting great plaudits and perhaps some sort of ticker tape parade. I got 'indifference' instead - humph! Nevertheless, I'm very pleased with myself!</div>
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A few minutes of crawling and stooping later, we emerged in a large passage containing 'The Whale', a huge broken flake on the floor. Emma, Tom and Becka headed deeper into the cave in search of further misery (I wonder where they are as I type this a few hours later...) but Jess, Ian, Julia and I turned round and dragged our tired bodies back to the entrance. Great trip!</div>
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T/U 6 hrs</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-45998553413933702752014-03-17T12:08:00.001+00:002014-03-17T12:08:48.367+00:00"Did I Mention I've got lurgy?"15/03/2014 - The Psychotronic Strangeways, Daren Cilau, with Tom and Emma<br />
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I'm lying on the sofa feeling quite broken typing this on Sunday evening. I guess that's what happens if you go caving in Daren Cilau when you aren't very well (actually I think that's what happens when you go caving in Daren even when you are well). The thing is, trips to Borrowed Boots Streamway and the Psychotronic Strangeways don't seem to happen that often and we'd been planning this one for months, so I thought I'd soldier on. Plus it was my birthday the day before. Anyway, that's enough whingeing for now. I'm sure I'll mention my man-flu again later, but stop me if I keep going on about it.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The finest birthday cake a caver could wish for.</td></tr>
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I think it took us about two and a half hours to get to the Hard Rock Cafe. The pace was OK but I did feel a bit like I was caving at high altitude. After the boulder hopping of the Time Machine and Bonsai Streamway, the crawling in Rock Steady Cruise and Acupuncture Passage was a welcome relief...initially. Since <a href="http://edvinscavingblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/the-restaurant-at-end-of-universe.html">my last trip in Daren</a>, in which we had been a bit suspicious of the stability of the roof and walls in Acupuncture Passage, it had indeed collapsed; but the bypass dig looks much safer and more civilized. So it was that we arrived at the Micron - the top of the climb down into the stream. I treated myself to a bit of a lie down.</div>
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Most trips at this point head upstream towards the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. Our goal today was to make our way a similar distance downstream and have a look at the interesting passages to be found in that area, leading ultimately to St David's Sump. The first section downstream is known as Borrowed Boots Streamway. Initially very slippery, and with an annoyingly low ceiling, it eventually enlarged and was characterised by multiple sharp vertical ridges of (I think) chert through which the stream flowed. Very weird, and unlike any stream passage I'd been in before. After several small cascades and 'chert windows', an upward sloping traverse took us away from the stream and into Encilio Passage.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Half-hearted photo attempt. A pool in the Psychotronic Strangeways.</td></tr>
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After some walking, some flat-out crawling, a brief watery wallow and a slightly awkward but fun letterbox climb, Encilio Passage ended at a T-junction with a large echoey passage - the Psychotronic Strangeways. We spent a while here exploring the various ways on and admiring the eerilly shaped cave. The passages were large (several metres) and round (sometimes keyhole shaped) with more of the strange chert flakes everywhere and tide marks on the walls. The name seemed somehow completely appropriate. Initially we found no flowing water, but the damp mud underfoot and the odd thigh-deep pool suggested there were sumps nearby which must back up in wet weather. The closest of these was the Gloom Room, a silty chamber containing a murky-looking sump, which eventually leads to passage very close to Agen Allwedd.<br />
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Heading in the downstream direction, a 4m climb down an electron ladder led us eventually to flowing water. The vertical chert flakes were present here on a grander scale and deep, fast flowing canals seemed to appear from behind them or from parallel passages in quite a confusing manner. We turned round about 20m upstream of St David's Sump, at a pool that looked out of depth. Tom took various photos on the way back upstream, and after half-heartedly trying to take some myself I decided I was too cold and ill and that a point-and-shoot alone wasn't quite going to cut it here, so I helped Tom with some flash gun holding instead.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">An old digger's shovel with vast quantities of mould growing on it.</td></tr>
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Thoroughly impressed with the fantastic passages we'd seen, we began the slog out. Feeling quite broken by now, I had a lie down every time we stopped. Tom's knee was also causing issues (particularly in the entrance crawl), but the prospect of dry clothes, a warm hut and a hot cup of tea proved sufficiently motivating to get us out.<br />
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Sitting in the sun the following morning at Whitewalls, eating fried eggs on toast and drinking tea, I must admit that I felt quite exceptionally smug. The Psychotronic Strangeways seems like a relatively rarely-visited part of Daren Cilau and feels very remote. But it's such a cool and intriguing section of cave to look at that it's well worth the long return trip, even if you aren't very well. Thanks to Tom and Emma for their patience during my numerous episodes of lying down - hopefully I wasn't infectious anymore! I can't remember if I mentioned that I had lurgy or not.</div>
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T/U 11.5 hrs</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-35666351014827778322014-03-10T09:37:00.001+00:002014-03-10T09:37:52.664+00:00Another trip down Titan<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's good to do Titan now and then to remind myself of how scary big pitches are. This time I had also claimed that I might be able to find my way through to Peak Cavern. The others on the trip (Kathryn, Matt and Sophie) didn't know the route so the potential was there for a bit of a stressful day!</div>
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The first challenge was finding Titan. Thick fog at the top of Cave Dale had reduced visibility somewhat, and finding a small manhole cover in one of the nondescript fields was going to be tricky. Luckily, a team was heading in ahead of us to go digging (they were also doing the rigging and derigging, which was useful) and I spotted them on the surface just as they were about to drop down the entrance shaft - great timing!</div>
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Unlike my last trip here, I was the first from our group down, which meant no waiting around at the top of Titan. This reduced the buttock-clenching terror I usually associate with big pitches to merely hair-raising discomfort. Titan swiftly dispatched, I settled myself at the bottom to wait for the others, and watched as pin pricks of light became visible on the Event Horizon and torch beams swivelled around the shaft as Sophie, then Matt, then Kathryn slid down the rope to join me.</div>
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The next section, from the bottom of Titan through to JH, was the bit I was least familiar with and most anxious to get through, especially with a team derigging Titan at some point later. Through a combination of vague recollections from previous trips, following the polish, and having looked at a survey earlier which suggested we should 'sort of bear right at some point, perhaps', we found our way through the boulder choke, into the Far Sump extensions, Stemple Highway and eventually into the very scrotty crawl into JH. We only made two minor wrong turnings (although one of them involved an unnecessary duck).</div>
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Clambering down into the Speedwell stream, a side trip to Main Rising was made before we continued downstream. Water levels were much higher than on previous trips. We'd been here in September in wetsuits, only to find nothing deeper than our waists. Today, shivering in furries we found armpit deep water (for me) to wade through, and The Bung (a ladder down through a waterfall) gave us a thorough drenching. Even Colostomy crawl failed to warm us up - it was particularly damp and draughty today. We finally emerged through the showcave (which by now was shut for the day) after an excellent 6 hours underground.</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-58728535928951907422014-02-01T19:04:00.001+00:002014-02-01T19:05:16.985+00:00Sidetrack Cave<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sidetrack Cave has an unusual access procedure which involves abseiling down the side of a quarry to get to the entrance. Kathryn and I decided that this was enough of a novelty to warrant a trip in itself.</div>
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After half an hour of wandering along some dodgy ledges in completely the wrong part of the quarry, we eventually found the right spot for the abseil. Watching the rope sawing across sharp edges of quarried limestone was a little perturbing but we made it down safely.</div>
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The cave itself starts off with 100m of flat out crawling, with a few puddles thrown in for amusement (well I was amused anyway...). The passage was probably once 2-3m in diameter, but it is now full of mud to within a few inches of the ceiling, so there's no choice but to squirm through on your belly. Eventually we reached a T-junction with a walking-sized passage. We explored in both directions and looked at some quite nice formations, although I think they are starting to get a bit muddied and damaged in places.</div>
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After a few photos we headed back out and prussiced very gingerly back out of the quarry.</div>
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T/U 2hrs</div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-56441725145021481972013-12-16T14:49:00.001+00:002013-12-16T15:11:52.547+00:00Surveying in Boxhead Pot<div style="text-align: justify;">
We had originally planned on a trip to the Eastern Front, Becka and co.'s new section found recently in Large Pot, to help Jeff take some photos. But after a wet week, and more rain forecast for later on Saturday the trip was a non-starter.</div>
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As Friday night at Bull Pot Farm wore on and started to look worryingly like Saturday morning, Becka suggested a trip from Boxhead Pot to Notts II. There were some odd bits of surveying she wanted to finish off around the bottom of Boxhead. The prospect of a first trip to Boxhead and through the new connection to Notts II was too good to turn down so somehow I agreed to be ready to go to Leck Fell for a 9am start. It was now approaching 2 am and the beer Holly and Noel had got for their party was really very more-ish indeed... I suspected I might regret this in the morning. Some vintage snoring and sleep-talking in the bunk room later was not particularly conducive to a restorative night's sleep either...</div>
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I just about managed some breakfast, and Becka, Emma, Tom, Jeff and I converged on Leck Fell for a cold, blustery 9am change. Boxhead Pot is an impressive 80-odd metre deep shaft. Ordinarily this would make it quite terrifying, but the rigging down to the Kendal Flyover (a rubbly ledge 10m off the floor) stuck to some slots in the side of the shaft, making for a fairly friendly descent. We could look out into the pitch, and later into the parallel Lost Pot shaft. From the Kendal Flyover, a somewhat confusing series of crawls and rifts (the Tate Galleries), including a delightful flat-out grovel through water, led eventually to an awkward climb up with an old hawser-laid rope to assist us.<br />
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We now split up, with Emma and Tom surveying up an aven to an old dig. Becka, Jeff and I headed down a couple of climbs and then down a pitch into Lyle Cavern, just above the Lost Johns main drain, with Jeff taking a couple of photos on the way. We left Jeff to take some more photos whilst we surveyed up a couple of moderately squalid inlets for an hour or so. Afterwards I was very distressed to discover that my scotch egg had been mashed into a watery pulp and my packet of sweets had ruptured leaving its contents to either dissolve or make a bid for freedom. I settled for most of an unsatisfactory muddy Mars bar instead.<br />
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Becka and I expected Emma and Tom to have finished and have joined Jeff when we got back to Lyle Cavern, especially as we had taken a while. Instead, we were puzzled to find Jeff's photo gear scattered around the chamber as if he had left in a hurry. We figured they might have headed down the main drain to find us, as Becka had also mentioned a small amount of surveying to do in another inlet at the bottom, so we started splashing our way downstream and recorded a few very muddy survey legs in a particularly filthy passage whilst we were there. Back up to Lyle Cavern, still no sign of the others and Jeff's gear hadn't moved. Uh Oh.<br />
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We agreed, but never really said it out loud, that there was only one possible scenario that would result in a lot of very expensive camera gear being abandoned like this. One of Emma or Tom must have had a bad accident; the other had gone to get Jeff as quickly as possible. We hurriedly shoved flash guns etc back into drums and tied the big tackle sack to the end of the rope down into Lyle Cavern, in case there was a chance to haul it up later. Then, with some dread, we hot-footed it towards where Emma and Tom were surveying to see what was going on.<br />
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A psychologist would probably have had a field day at the frenzy we'd managed to whip ourselves into! Within 5 minutes we met Emma, Tom and Jeff, merrily heading back toward Lyle Cavern! Jeff had left his flash guns perfectly set up so that a photo could efficiently be taken once we had all finished our surveying. He had then gone to find Emma and Tom, whilst we dismantled all his gear. Oops!<br />
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With the photo taken, we set off in the direction of Notts II. The route took us through the <a href="http://www.theguardian.com/uk/the-northerner/2011/nov/07/caving-potholing-three-counties-system-gaping-gill-white-scar-caves-edouard-martel">final connection</a> in the Three Counties system, a boulder choke a couple of hundred metres long. It's a hugely impressive digging effort, with scaffolding, cement and even builder's foam propping things up for much of its length. I was feeling pretty hungry and tired by now. After an hour of contortions, squirming up, down and around boulders, we emerged into walking-sized passage, with the Notts II stream audible close by, and the long climb up to the surface not much further on to really finish off my arms.<br />
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After an excellent 7 hours underground, a classic Leck Fell change ensued in the dark, as a strong wind lashed cold rain into our faces. I did however find a packet of Haribo in my coat pocket which made me exceedingly happy.</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-8022560845604056272013-11-04T11:52:00.000+00:002013-11-04T11:52:14.309+00:00Bonfire Night Caving<div style="text-align: justify;">
2nd and 3rd November 2013</div>
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It was a scene from a war film. Clouds of smoke billowed around us. We choked on the acrid smell of gunpowder, as we cowered from the rockets screaming overhead, temporarily illuminating the murky gloom as they exploded close by. Yes, it was another typical bonfire night at Bull Pot Farm, and yes I'm probably exaggerating a bit.</div>
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Over the din of the outdoor-fireworks-inside, we managed to establish that the weather forecast was terrible, and that our planned trip from Top Sink to Link Pot should probably morph into a trip from County Pot to Lancaster Hole, avoiding any potentially dangerous wet bits. So on a chilly Saturday morning (it would be warmer underground than above for the fist time in months) Tony, Kathryn, Emma, Nial, Aiora, Kayla and I dropped into County Pot. The climb up to Poetic Justice was as entertaining as ever, and soon we found ourselves in the Main Drain at Eureka Junction, where the water was still very low - presumably the rain hadn't arrived yet.</div>
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We followed the water up into Stop Pot and climbed up into the high level series. Our plan was to make a short detour to Carrot Chamber, which I had not seen before but had heard was nice. With Aiora's survey guiding us, we were fairly sure that we found the correct chamber, but extensive discussion ensued on whether or not what we were seeing could really be likened to carrots. Nevertheless the chamber and the passage leading to it, were beautifully decorated and in surprisingly good condition.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kayla in Carrot Chamber (probably)</td></tr>
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The rest of the trip was incident free, as we picked our way along the high level route (even though the Lancaster Main Drain was still very low). We met Ian and Hannah at Stake Pot - they had rigged the Lancaster Hole entrance pitch for us. When we finally emerged on the surface after 6.5 hours underground, the rain was only just beginning in earnest.</div>
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The following morning, Tony, Kathryn, Nial, Aiora and I spent a couple of hours in the Notts II streamway. It had rained very heavily overnight and the streamway was swollen enough to make the trip quite exciting. After going as far as we could downstream, we fought our way back upstream and it was quite hard work in some of the narrower, fast-flowing sections - we wouldn't have wanted much more water flowing.</div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-75205622176086726432013-10-07T09:45:00.000+01:002013-10-07T09:49:48.662+01:00Late Summer Tomfoolery<h4>
21/09/2013 - King Pot</h4>
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Emma, Tom and I spent a misty Autumn day bottomming King Pot. With vague intentions to look at the Middle Sump Bypass and the Grasshopper Series, we'd packed neoprene hoods. We made fairly serene progress through the early obstacles, including the T-slot. As expected, we found that since our last trip there the whole of the cave is now p-hangered, which sped things up a bit.</div>
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As we descended and entered some of the damper crawls in the lower part of the cave (which is otherwise large, impressive and very pretty), resolve weakened and I found myself hoping that it would be too wet for the Grasshopper Series. It probably wasn't - but I was! The 1 inch airspace over the flat out crawl was enough to deter all of us. After looking at the impressive sumps that bookend the East Kingsdale Master Cave, we started the trip out, the official line being, 'we really wanted to go through the horrible ducks, but thought it was too wet'.</div>
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Prusiking up the 20m Elizabeth Pitch, I had a minor incident when my safety cord somehow got caught alongside the SRT rope in my chest jammer. This isn't supposed to happen. I'm still not sure how it did happen, but 'safety' cord didn't seem like a very apt name at the time. Some midair jiggery-pokery and swearing seemed to sort the two ropes out, and then solid ground at the top (and more crucially a pint at the Marten Arms) eventually sorted my nerves out.</div>
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5/10/2013 - Alderley Edge: Wood Mine to Hough Level</h4>
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With Adrian, Emma and various other Red Rose members, and Nigel from the Derbyshire Caving Club showing us round. I have now been caving in a bathtub.</div>
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This was a through-trip between the two entrances, via Brynlow Mine and Engine Vein, with lots of extra loops and side passages to explore. The main mineral mined here was copper carbonate and there were still numerous blue tinged rocks on the floor and walls, and several vivid blue-green deposits where water had seeped through cracks and deposited the mineral on the walls.</div>
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The main through-route seemed to be along some adit levels at the bottom of the mine, so many of our side trips were made by climbing ricketty old ladders into upper workings. In one of these areas, Brynlow Mine, miners of old had inscribed dates on the walls, 1764 being the oldest one we saw.</div>
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Shortly after this, we returned down a ladder to the lower level, where the adit had a metre or two of water in the bottom. We distributed ourselves into a small fleet of vessels consisting of a Canadian canoe and a couple of bathtubs seated inside some tractor inner tubes, to keep them afloat. Drifting along the flooded passage for a couple of hundred metres in a floating bathtub, occasionally pushing ourselves away from the wall, was one of my more unusual but satisfying underground experiences.</div>
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T/U 4 hrsEdvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-61309121856751542522013-09-02T21:52:00.000+01:002013-09-02T22:54:15.617+01:00An Icelandic Adventure<div style="text-align: justify;">
Having run out of frozen meals, Kathryn and I decided to go to Iceland. Our main objective was the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Laugavegur">Laugavegur trail</a>, which runs from the hot springs of Landmannalaugar to the glacial valley of Þórsmörk, with an optional extra day or two over the Fimmvörðuháls pass to Skógar. The route would take us past the Eyjafjallajökull glacier, the scene of the 2010 eruption which disrupted flights across Europe. When it comes to words I am physically unable to pronounce, Icelandic is rivalled only by Welsh. Try saying Eyjafjallajökull three times backwards as fast as you can... </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The geothermal pool at Landmannalaugar</td></tr>
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Around Landmannalaugar</h4>
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Our Nordic Odyssey began with a one night stay in Reykjavik. I was probably more excited than I needed to be about the slight sulphurous smell in the showers (the hot water is pumped straight out of the ground) - it was a sign of smells to come.<br />
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The following morning we took the coach to Landmannalaugar. The combination of a 4wd bus, unpaved roads, river crossings and views of the volcano Hekla kept our spirits high, despite the drizzle that had been persistently falling since our arrival.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River crossing at Landmannalaugar</td></tr>
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We planned to spend the afternoon exploring the environs of Landmannalaugar before starting our trek the following morning. The best way of exploring the area is to lie in the natural geothermal pool for a couple of hours, relax, and occasionally swivel your head from side to side to take in a slightly different view. The thermal pool is created by almost boiling water from a hot spring meeting colder water. By moving relative to the hot inlet, and raising or lowering your body (there is quite a big vertical temperature gradient) fine temperature control can be achieved, with anything from "this bath is getting a little cool and we're out of hot water" to "ow, ow ow, I put my foot in the bath before I'd added any cold water" possible. The cold (perhaps 8°C) air temperature only served to enrich the experience!<br />
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To be fair, we also went for a stroll to a nearby water-filled volcanic crater. In fact it turned into a 10 mile march as we forgot that our map had a 1:100 000 scale.</div>
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Day 1: Landmannalaugar to Álftavatn</h4>
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After a night disrupted by an astonishing display of snoring, our first, and longest, day took us 24km over a 1000m pass (where the Hrafntinnusker hut is found) and down to the hut at Álftavatn. An hour in, the drizzle started, and as we gained height it turned to sleet and then snow. Other than removing the view, it didn't detract from the day too much though - we were far too excited by the lava fields, fumaroles, sulphurous pools and bubbling hot springs to care. The landscape was vastly different to anytihng we had seen; mulitcoloured mountains and tephra/pumice everywhere. The highlight was probably heating up a boil-in-the-bag corned beef hash in a bubbling pool. The lowlight was our rye bread, carefully selected because we reckoned it would last us 5 days without going stale or mouldy. It doesn't go mouldy because it is so unpleasant that even fungi can't stomach it.</div>
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By the time we had descended to the level of Álftavatn, we were below the clouds once more, and arrived at the hut reasonably dry, after negotiating a river crossing via a dubiously balanced plank.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view from the hut at Álftavatn</td></tr>
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Day 2: Álftavatn to Emstrur</h4>
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A much shorter day today, with spice added by two river crossings. The black ash of the lower hills was covered in vivid green moss, a huge contrast in atmosphere from yesterday. The rivers were about knee deep and negotiated hand in hand, wearing sandals, with rucksack straps undone. The water fell very firmly into the "so cold it hurts" category. After the river crossings, we traversed a vast desert-like plain of black ash, later christened 'Mordor' by fellow travellers in the hut at Emstrur.</div>
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As we arrived on the slopes above the hut, we caught our first glimpse of the vast Mýrdalsjökull ice cap (under which lies the volcano Katla), which would be a constant presence on our left for the next three days. We had arrived at the hut quite early, so had time for an afternoon walk to look down into the vertiginous Markarfljótsgljúfur canyon (doesn't that name just roll off your tongue).</div>
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Day 3: Emstrur to Þórsmörk</h4>
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A day of nearly constant drizzle and and icy wind, with a particularly "fun" river crossing, which required de-trousering. By late afternoon, it had cleared up and the wide Þórsmörk valley was pleasantly lit up by the evening sun. Many of the people who had been in the same huts as us got the bus back the Reykjavik, their treks being over, but we still had two more days left.</div>
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Day 4: Þórsmörk to Fimmvörðuháls</h4>
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This was the day when we most wanted good weather, and the Icelandic weather gods obliged. Beneath a sunny sky we traversed several kilometers across the Þórsmörk valley and began ascending the lushly vegetated slopes below the Fimmvörðuháls pass. As we gained height, the views became increasingly staggering. Behind us, and beyond the birch forests in Þórsmörk, we could see the black sand desert, vivid mossy green hills and the multicoloured volcanic mountains above Landmannalaugar, 50km to the north. The Mýrdalsjökull and Eyjafjallajökull ice caps extended to either side ahead of us. We approached the pass via a high level ice-rink-flat plain, where the top of a mountain appeared to have been cleanly chopped off, presumably by a glacier or an angry Nordic god with a scythe. On the far side of a ravine, another similar plain, extending to the Mýrdalsjökull, bore a river of melt-water down to a huge waterfall. And next to the waterfall lay what appeared to be a frozen "lava fall", with lava from the 2010 eruption still steaming.<br />
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We continued to climb, and soon entered the clouds once more. Our route now took us straight across the 2010 lava fields. At one point we noticed that the cold wind had suddenly warmed up, and the fog was actually steam. Plunging our hands into the volcanic ash for more than a couple of seconds was unbearably hot. This is from an eruption 3 years ago!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The view north east, climbing the Fimmvörðuháls pass</td></tr>
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The Fimmvörðuháls hut was perched at the very top of the pass. The blustery wind toyed with us as it revealed tantalising views one moment, only to obscure them with cloud the next. This was possibly the best day's walking we had ever done.</div>
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Day 5: Fimmvörðuháls to Skógar</h4>
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What a contrast to yesterday. The 50km visibility was more like 50m for the entire day. We expected to drop out of the clag as we descended to Skógar, but it was with us all the way and we got a thorough drenching! Nevertheless, there were some spectacular sights to see, as the route followed the Skógá river down a sequence of increasingly impressive waterfalls, culminating in the 70m Skógafoss. We had a few hours to spare in Skógar itself before our bus back to Reykjavik. We used the time constructively by sitting in a café, eating burgers and cake and feeling thoroughly chuffed with ourselves.</div>
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Random thoughts if you're planning on doing the trek</h4>
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<li style="text-align: justify;">We spent 3 days walking from Landmannalaugar to Þórsmörk and 2 from Þórsmörk to Skógar. It would be entirely reasonable, if you are fit, to get to Þórsmörk in 2 days and then Skógar in a further day (although bus times would mean an early start in Þórsmörk or a night spent in Skógar).</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Did I mention that the weather can be somewhat less than clement? The quality of the walk is so high that it doesn't really detract from the experience (other than spoiling the view a bit) but be prepared - we even had lunch in our bothy bag at one point!</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">We booked huts in April, by which time some were already full. The camping spots looked really good though, with the exception of Hrafntinnusker, where it was very rocky.</li>
<li style="text-align: justify;">Finally, definitely definitely do the trip, it's amazing. Even if the weather is as shocking as it was for us!</li>
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We had a couple of days based in Reykjavik after our trek. The first day was spent doing a 'Golden Circle' coach trip, to see the mighty waterfall Gullfoss and the Strokkur geyser at Geysir. Our final day was spent in Hveragerði, where the river Varmá is warmed by some very impressive hot springs. After initially scolding the soles of our feet, we found a lovely spot to lie in the shallow stream for an hour or so.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A muddy hot spring near Hveragerði</td></tr>
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In summary, go to Iceland.</div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-18296187685275487942013-08-12T13:46:00.000+01:002013-08-13T09:42:27.100+01:00An Ogof Ffynnon Ddu Trip10/08/2013<br />
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I'd only ever done through trips in OFD in the upstream direction, so it would be interesting to see how hard the route-finding for our planned downstream (OFD Top to OFD 1) trip would be today.</div>
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Kathryn, Anya, Jess, Serena, Adrian, Olly and I slogged up to the top entrance, half of us poaching, trussed up in neoprene and PVC oversuits. Some highly sweaty caving brought us to the very shallow Salubrious streamway and a certain amount of relief. Soon enough we were at the top of Maypole Inlet. I was last down the climb into inlet, and without a rope it was more slithery than I remembered. The inlet itself wasn't carrying much water, and we followed it down into the main streamway which was also low.</div>
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An hour or two of pure unadulterated merriment followed as we splashed down OFD's amazing stream passage, those of us in wetsuits jumping (and occasionally being pushed into...) the deeper pools. Sooner than we might have liked, we left the streamway and entered the maze of higher level passages that bypass the sumps and lead into the downstream streamway in OFD 1.</div>
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The first obstacle here was the Divers Pitch. Sat at the bottom watching the others climb up one by one, I mused that on the surface, I would be terrified about such a climb and it would seem like a foolhardy thing to do. Then it was my turn. In the dim light, with water falling onto me, clad in a restrictive wetsuit, oversuit and wellies, I climbed up as if it was the most natural thing to be doing in the world. The mind works in strange ways sometimes...!</div>
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The route through to the OFD 1 streamway was navigated without too many issues, mainly by following the polish. The Letterbox was successfully exited by all - the best technique being to squirm out on your back but head first. We exited from OFD 1 after a very fine 6 hours underground.</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-22761037570491115322013-08-05T21:41:00.000+01:002013-08-05T22:10:45.916+01:00Alpine Adventures<div style="text-align: justify;">
Around this time last year Kathryn and I <a href="http://edvinscavingblog.blogspot.co.uk/2012/08/le-caving.html">headed to the Ecrins</a> for our first attempt at conquering some alpine mountains. We had an lovely time, although things didn't quite go entirely to plan: I dropped my camera off a via ferrata, and we failed to make it up any summits due to a combination of failing to acclimatise properly and picking some peaks that were beyond us. My grand plan of a romantic mountain-top proposal was hastily rearranged into popping the question on a col.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looking across to the summit of the Allalinhorn</td></tr>
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<a name='more'></a>This year we headed to the Saas Valley in Switzerland, with more preparation and (possibly marginally) more nous. Our first two days were spent above 3000m (via the cable cars) to get used to the altitude, before our first attempt at an Alp: the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allalinhorn">Allalinhorn</a>. The cable cars meant that we only had about 600m of actual ascent to climb that day, but nevertheless the steepness of the snow slopes and the size of everything took some getting used to. The mountain proved to be the perfect choice for a first alpine peak and was a real confidence boost.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Stellihorn as seen from the Mittaghorn summit</td></tr>
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After a day off to say hello to the marmots above Saas Fee, we decided to get away from the crowds by climbing the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stellihorn">Stellihorn</a>. The route starts above the Mattmark dam and climbs a steep grassy slope to a bivouac spot (there is no hut) next to a stream with stunning views across to the Strahlhorn. We shared the area with two Ibex and nobody else - very special. The following morning, against a backdrop of a wonderful dawn alpenglow, we climbed the ever-steepening Nollen Glacier towards the summit of the Stellihorn. By now we were used to the very steep snow slopes, but towards the top, the snow had started to soften considerably, and we finally encountered a chossy, rock section, which added a bit of excitement to matters. We had the whole mountain to ourselves which, whilst wonderful, made us particularly aware of how important it was not to fall into any crevasses or off the summit ridge!</div>
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A couple of days later we climbed the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Weissmies">Weissmies</a>. This felt a bit more serious and challenging. The glacier was more crevassed (at least from what we could see), the snow steeper and the route longer. A mighty wind was blowing across the summit ridge, sweeping plumes of fresh snow into the abyss below. It was truly dramatic and, to us fledging alpinists it all felt quite epic.<br />
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Mission accomplished!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marmot above Saas Fee</td></tr>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-33065228620120234282013-06-18T14:20:00.000+01:002013-06-18T14:21:50.026+01:00Caving in a Washing Machine15/06/13 An aborted trip down Roaring Hole<br />
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Wookey, Kathryn and I, joined by Jeremy and Chris, were following a team of Durham cavers into Roaring Hole, a cave notable for its damp boulder chokes. The plan was for us to loiter in Inglesport for an hour or so then head down the cave in Chapel-le-Dale and derig their ropes. We executed the first part of the plan exceptionally well.</div>
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As we walked towards the cave we met a gaggle of familiar but cleaner than usual-looking, yellow-suited cavers coming the other way. Durham had aborted below the second choke because it was too wet. After a couple of days of unsettled weather it seemed we had made a poor choice of cave.<br />
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Nevertheless, we grabbed their rope and went to look for ourselves. Jeremy and Chris turned round soon after the entrance climb, but the three of use pressed on through the dryish first choke to the first pitch, down which a waterfall was thundering. It turned out that the way on was down a hole in the floor virtually under the waterfall.<br />
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Now, I've been through plenty of boulder chokes in my time, and, when they are stable, I have even learnt to enjoy slithering through the small holes and trying to work out the way on in the 3D maze. However, having a torrent of water crashing onto your head, in your face and through your suit at the same time was a very new and somewhat unnerving experience. Luckily the route was fairly obvious, being where the water was flowing. But it was all but impossible to see where we were going. The tacklesack got abandoned part way through the choke, and the three of us emerged at the bottom very wet and somewhat more understanding of why the rigging team had turned round here.<br />
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With the possibility of rain later, we didn't want to loiter below the choke too long, so elected to leave the tacklesack and see how far we could quickly get before turning round. After a crawling sized streamway, we arrived at another boulder choke. Well, I think so, but it was hard to tell what it was as another swollen waterfall was tumbling straight into it. I followed Wookey in, and it was immediately apparent that this choke was even worse.<br />
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Several squirming metres down, I looked up, receiving a face full of water, and came to the conclusion that going back up wasn't going to be all that trivial. At that point one of two things happened; I'm genuinely unsure which:<br />
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(a) I had a wibble and wussed out of going any further.<br />
(b) I made a rational decision that continuing might be foolhardy and turned round.<br />
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Either way, a couple of minutes later Kathryn and I found ourselves above the choke waiting for Wookey. Then we waited some more. And some more. The water had been so loud that Wookey probably hadn't heard me shouting so we assumed he would either wait for a bit and come back or decide to quickly have a look further on in the cave whilst he was there. I went back to my previous point in the choke but there was still no sign of him.<br />
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We were now seriously entertaining the possibility in our heads that Wookey might be lost somewhere in the choke or unable to return due to the water. To our great relief, as we were discussing what to do about this predicament, a lamp shone through the waterfall and a dishevelled Wookey appeared. As we had hoped, he had just gone for a look around below the choke (apparently we had turned round a metre or so before it ended).<br />
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Chilled to the bone, we made our way back up to the first of the wet chokes, and got another thorough drenching as we clambered up through it, rescuing the tacklesack on the way. We emerged to hordes of Three Peaks walkers making their way up Ingleborough. I spent most of the following evening trying to get warm again.<br />
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Time Underground: only 2hrs, but try standing under a cold power shower for a while and tell me it doesn't feel like a lot longer!</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-23170224020320036572013-06-11T15:40:00.000+01:002013-06-11T15:44:00.651+01:00War of the Worlds, Ogof Draenen8/06/13<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nial and Emma in War of the Worlds</td></tr>
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With the prospect of a long trip to Draenen at the weekend, I had spent some time on Friday printing out various bits of description and surveys to several potential locations in the cave. I had then cleverly forgotten to pack them before driving down to South Wales. </div>
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Emma, Nial and I settled on a trip to War of the Worlds, a huge passage in the south of the cave, with some formations nearby. Armed with one paragraph of useful text, a photo of the survey and a vague recollection that I'd read that "it's somewhere a bit beyond Snowball Passage", we reluctantly left behind a rare sunny day above Abergavenny and squirmed our way through the somewhat miserable entrance series. A little while later we stripped off the tops of our oversuits at the first water stop (in Lamb and Fox Chamber) and made our sweaty way through the maze of dry tunnels to Snowball Passage.
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I had assumed that it would only be a few minutes of caving from here to War of the Worlds, but it turned into a bit of a slog. We managed to find the route round a boulder choke choke into The Black Run, and soon after found the squirm down into Lost in Space. A combination of stooping and crawling, Lost in Space wasn't as big as the name suggests, but eventually we emerged into a huge chamber with impressive flowstone walls, the Reactor.
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After a few minutes of boulder hopping around The Reactor we located the passage on towards War of the Worlds (it was in roughly the spot where I'd first looked, at which point I'd confidently declared, 'It's definitely not this way.'). Soon afterwards, we reached the T junction with the north and south branches of War of the Worlds. We wandered down both branches, the southern passage being particularly huge. I say 'wandered', but really I mean 'teetered from wobbly boulder to wobbly boulder'. I'd read that somewhere round here were formations, but I couldn't remember where, and began to feel guilty about forgetting the description as we looked in several side passages to no avail. Finally, just as we were resigned to failure, we found our target, Sendero Luminoso, and spent some time admiring and photographing the urchins and helictites, including the most rudely shaped stalagmite I have ever seen.
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Helictite</td></tr>
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With only a few wrong turns, we managed to undo our inward route pretty efficiently. My legs, which had been gently poaching in my plastic oversuit for much of the day, felt like they were done; and my knee, injured after falling off my bike the previous week, was complaining about the crawls. I think Nial mistook my whimpers for a little girl. Emma, meanwhile, was singing about how much she loved caving.
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After 8 hours underground, a celebratory pint was quaffed at the Lamb and Fox in the evening sun. The following day, stiff shoulders and aching legs were refreshed by a swim in the river at Crickhowell, and then made to ache again by the walk back up the hill to Whitewalls. I made my way home to find the surveys and descriptions sitting on the printer.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg8Ep3ClpiwmxND-AkJXjP6OhTSZ9TLlQItZhuxzBmTe57SDjH3VZUOUnB-nzFDE5mRVnCIujAaKg4mQ5wrg0bJrq7akwNfmWtQO4DmG9j2ayfcjFl9DdUvdafFZJ-CcAG3Eyi-dObEs/s1600/small-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg8Ep3ClpiwmxND-AkJXjP6OhTSZ9TLlQItZhuxzBmTe57SDjH3VZUOUnB-nzFDE5mRVnCIujAaKg4mQ5wrg0bJrq7akwNfmWtQO4DmG9j2ayfcjFl9DdUvdafFZJ-CcAG3Eyi-dObEs/s320/small-11.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Urchins closeup</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjak5FVTcJa-kqhWzB-QY3UWU0g1bBWMtwc2ZaYaejMOJYqciGtfLdIiFy0Pr4fxXUBzBmiOjqs0LNSwswCPLakulFWrQw_7078JMNs8ib8TckZITRSTQ3rxgbEWQJzwd2buLORfsQVRKo/s1600/small-13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjak5FVTcJa-kqhWzB-QY3UWU0g1bBWMtwc2ZaYaejMOJYqciGtfLdIiFy0Pr4fxXUBzBmiOjqs0LNSwswCPLakulFWrQw_7078JMNs8ib8TckZITRSTQ3rxgbEWQJzwd2buLORfsQVRKo/s320/small-13.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Urchins with Nial for Scale<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCiPaDgmiUwY_9cbCducC0zSZC2EnGNGPLk0geihO9gQY13lDDkXxKeNjlgx9INerENc-yQH4YeGFrN0U43KR8bdl4d_GSn92SFPN1VYdcDAX8yWbroz-nRg5jox_Sil6FikX4u6R-yk/s1600/small-15.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZCiPaDgmiUwY_9cbCducC0zSZC2EnGNGPLk0geihO9gQY13lDDkXxKeNjlgx9INerENc-yQH4YeGFrN0U43KR8bdl4d_GSn92SFPN1VYdcDAX8yWbroz-nRg5jox_Sil6FikX4u6R-yk/s320/small-15.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-3050861933597407402013-04-22T10:48:00.000+01:002013-04-22T10:48:08.177+01:00A Rare Weekend on Mendip<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHFSrRUnvs-QjKAHaOFbdndZmPScFR6DOogLdeIbaGbs7mTOJr8SX_LviYx-QO94fIbjVvxr3s1Wll8dsJj9rSY7zTArnPxC0H2YJgYg-2ugFWQvpTJj09j7mx-T_SfPFwTNLQHL23GE/s1600/small-6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihHFSrRUnvs-QjKAHaOFbdndZmPScFR6DOogLdeIbaGbs7mTOJr8SX_LviYx-QO94fIbjVvxr3s1Wll8dsJj9rSY7zTArnPxC0H2YJgYg-2ugFWQvpTJj09j7mx-T_SfPFwTNLQHL23GE/s320/small-6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crystals in Neverland, Upper Flood Swallet</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
It had been been four years since I <a href="http://edvin.byethost7.com/LogFiles/MendipsFebruary09.html">last went caving</a> in the Mendips, and now I'm wondering why I left it so long! That trip in 2009 included a visit to recent discoveries in Upper Flood Swallet. However, the prettiest section, Neverland, was closed off as it was deemed too fragile to cope with any caver traffic. Since then, a bypass has been dug, which enables access to Neverland with less risk to the formations. When Alex and Jess sorted out a trip there, with Mike the Animal leading, in return for us doing a bit of digging, I jumped at the chance to join them.</div>
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<a name='more'></a><br />
<h4 style="text-align: justify;">
Upper Flood Swallet</h4>
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20/04/2013</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D66b7kNh4j92PUcZaNRCcL6c3tX6N1d-2pFHIyNOkTIZpFkyhd5EH28ujkzBRSx5zdYsyCYAS_NOTi2yj0RZpOfglo-odcYLhopdxP96hey0OvoLytpRrrGMLWUVDedXL9PzGhUqkYE/s1600/small-14.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7D66b7kNh4j92PUcZaNRCcL6c3tX6N1d-2pFHIyNOkTIZpFkyhd5EH28ujkzBRSx5zdYsyCYAS_NOTi2yj0RZpOfglo-odcYLhopdxP96hey0OvoLytpRrrGMLWUVDedXL9PzGhUqkYE/s320/small-14.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A poor photo of the Pork Pies</td></tr>
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A warm and sunny morning left us wondering why we were going underground in such rare nice weather. We soon remembered why, as we stooped and crawled past straws, curtains and calcite bosses - and this was still just the entrance series. The Lavatory Pan was a one-wet-ear duck last time we were here, but has now been dug out to more pleasant proportions.<div style="text-align: justify;">
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Soon we arrived at the boulder choke, in which I became temporarily misplaced on my last visit. Somehow, I seemed to end up at the front of the group both on the way in and on the way out. Luckily the slightly more polished boulders and the odd cry of "when you get to the acrow prop turn right" from Mike at the back saw me through safely.</div>
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Eventually, we arrived at the newly dug connection into Neverland, where we had to remove our oversuits and wellies, and wash our socks. It was soon clear why: rounding a corner, the passage floor was covered entirely in a pristine white calcite flow, over which we had to gingerly pad to reach more insane formations beyond. At the end of the passage, we crawled one at a time into a little alcove to see the Pork Pies, a set of impossibly formed white calcite cylinders.</div>
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Having admired Neverland's unique formations, we headed back into muddier places and spent an hour or so digging before heading out to the surface bang on our call out time.</div>
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TU: 7 hours</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dePKu_wuMfgMnZWuL4UfmEYpa2VZPM93wmWrd9oS2IXAd7aCs7T63Jtod_mgpQcDQw-122Mc8tbyANHUn_4ZMn1xsbuhdBETUcUMfpE5f_4pSEPJxTu1r6oWFvSLF47f5GO6Y7T_PRc/s1600/small-10.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4dePKu_wuMfgMnZWuL4UfmEYpa2VZPM93wmWrd9oS2IXAd7aCs7T63Jtod_mgpQcDQw-122Mc8tbyANHUn_4ZMn1xsbuhdBETUcUMfpE5f_4pSEPJxTu1r6oWFvSLF47f5GO6Y7T_PRc/s320/small-10.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We called this "The Boob"</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjic_OWq50Y965trmDhZMhKL7XtsNybivO_PbSKu6bnu-5Q-BAPGRq8aesWqfWUy9ZnDFV70qOa3-7JHHprnHE9pTYqZC1Hy-_dpneCgziAxyr4miS0EOZNvNURZW9nCMA6zBz8uIDbroM/s1600/small-11.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjic_OWq50Y965trmDhZMhKL7XtsNybivO_PbSKu6bnu-5Q-BAPGRq8aesWqfWUy9ZnDFV70qOa3-7JHHprnHE9pTYqZC1Hy-_dpneCgziAxyr4miS0EOZNvNURZW9nCMA6zBz8uIDbroM/s320/small-11.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Jess behind a curtain</td></tr>
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Swildons Hole - Short Round Trip</h4>
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21/04/2013</div>
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On Sunday Alex and I did the Short Round Trip in Swildons - an absolute classic that I've been meaning to do for years. I was somewhat apprehensive about the numerous ducks, about which I'd heard various horror stories in the past. Nevertheless, Alex was adamant that we'd be better off without wetsuits and that there would be probably no need to bail the ducks. This made me nervous!</div>
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We hot-footed it down the streamway and the ladder, and Alex located the climb up to Tratman's Temple - new territory for me. Various pleasant, dry passages followed, with a greasy chimney climb being the main obstacle of note. Eventually, we arrived at the top of Blue Pencil Passage - a long downward squirm which leads into the streamway between sumps 3 and 4; a very wothwhile side trip. The passage emerges two or three of metres up the wall of the streamway, with a fixed chain aiding the climb. However, I made the mistake of emerging head first, which, for future reference, makes the climb utterly desperate (climbing upside down is rubbish). Nevertheless, the streamway is absoutely execellent and warrants a visit.</div>
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Back en route, we managed to arrive at the ducks nice and warmed up. Truth be told, they were really not that bad at all. Alex was right about the wetsuits - we were never submerged for long and I had a rash vest on anyway. There was enough airspace to keep helmets on. But the biggest revelation for me was the neoprene hood which completely removed the nasty headache inducing cold and made me feel invincible!</div>
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A fun slide down into the Swildons Two Streamway soon followed, and, after a quick visit to Sump Two, we popped through Sump One and splashed speedily out after a fantastic trip.</div>
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TU: 3.5 hours</div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-59340012607995760072013-04-04T10:00:00.000+01:002013-04-25T09:52:39.715+01:00The Tales of an Incompetent Cross Country Skier in Norway<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWMTJo8noWdrJrNf1s35wfCKUCr7wk8_XRW7FDmdumI4zTiQweAHJQGRgJqrzU3NAj_xOBfD7IcPOP78U0w9v7Vt2UaWQ4kS61clVVUAbjFenaPq6SxOq4rQl2q-4Dbovf2M_lrPT5J8/s1600/ski1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWMTJo8noWdrJrNf1s35wfCKUCr7wk8_XRW7FDmdumI4zTiQweAHJQGRgJqrzU3NAj_xOBfD7IcPOP78U0w9v7Vt2UaWQ4kS61clVVUAbjFenaPq6SxOq4rQl2q-4Dbovf2M_lrPT5J8/s320/ski1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our home for the week</td></tr>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Until last week Kathryn
and I had never been skiing. So when the opportunity to go to Anthony and Julia's hut in Norway arose, we embraced it with the kind of wanton enthusiasm typical of people who
have absolutely no idea what they are letting themselves in for. Afterall, if
couldn't be that different from sledging, right?</span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So it was that we found ourselves
in a quaint wooden hut in the Hallingdal region,
one week in late March. It was -25<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">o</span></sup>C outside, and the snow was a
metre deep. But huddled round the stove, by candlelight, we were very cosy
indeed.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
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<a name='more'></a><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">By the next morning, the sun had
warmed the mountains up to a relatively balmy -8<sup><span style="font-size: x-small;">o</span></sup>C and our skiing
apprenticeship was about to begin.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cross Country Skiing Lesson 1: Waxing is a vital pre-ski ritual.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Not your legs. It gets rubbed on
the skis to control traction with the snow. Arguing about wax choices appears
to be the Norwegian equivalent of pontificating about this afternoon's football
matches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Depending on the air temperature you might want
the green wax, the red, the violet, or various combinations of each, but not too much. You need
to consider the snow and the expected weather conditions...unless
the wind is from the east and it's a full moon on the third Wednesday of the
month … or something like that... Got that...?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Waxing complete, we set off beneath
azure skies through gorgeous snow-clad rolling mountain scenery. It was not
long (a matter of seconds in fact) before I learnt my second lesson.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cross Country Skiing Lesson 2: Falling over is an effective way of
stopping.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKcuCwbC9Ft4Lq19M1sX0wbfKTkL8Z7D84Te1PHH0lH20A5dYhHtft_QzdaEl_s8CfdugLO1HeFfqqHxNhUeGIe-dHUH_h5NMY5rZDRc32TNk-DgLCItC7oh_Kd22V4-BgOD5KdHSn234/s1600/ski4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKcuCwbC9Ft4Lq19M1sX0wbfKTkL8Z7D84Te1PHH0lH20A5dYhHtft_QzdaEl_s8CfdugLO1HeFfqqHxNhUeGIe-dHUH_h5NMY5rZDRc32TNk-DgLCItC7oh_Kd22V4-BgOD5KdHSn234/s320/ski4.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Emma demonstrates how to go downhill correctly</span></td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">It is also a good way of
steering, getting in and out of your skis and, occasionally, staying still.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">As the day progressed I became slightly less
wobbly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Skiing downhill with any
semblance of control remained problematic, however.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cross Country Skiing Lesson 3: Tandem skiing does not work.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I was effortlessly sliding down a
gentle incline, the occasional awkward and unbalanced lurch betraying my
inexperience. I was suddenly torn out of my reverie by a cry from behind me,
"Faster Edvin, faster!" Kathryn was hurtling down the hill out of
control, ski poles flailing. I tried to pole away but my high-speed wife
charged into me, and somehow remained clinging there, on top of my skis. A bend
in the track hove into view. We remembered Lesson 2. Shortly afterwards we were
digging ourselves out of a copious snowdrift next to the track, giggling at our
haplessness as some bemused lycra-clad pros glided elegantly past.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCo0d30Y-5uIiJM_xS1L485_7Lca63Q_dM-fVX7-5EAIfTN4qImM6cTl6lGAxmrf9qRGVbrteYTJfwVtFLM0tiQE_Ch7uG0pH_JZNCMWQ64HKccUDmGRMq5k-5LesGb8inl4oLftQxaw/s1600/ski5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCo0d30Y-5uIiJM_xS1L485_7Lca63Q_dM-fVX7-5EAIfTN4qImM6cTl6lGAxmrf9qRGVbrteYTJfwVtFLM0tiQE_Ch7uG0pH_JZNCMWQ64HKccUDmGRMq5k-5LesGb8inl4oLftQxaw/s320/ski5.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Swings buried in the deep snow</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">The week progressed in a haze of
fine skiing and merriment (due in no small part to Anthony’s rather
fine homebrew). My snowploughs started to improve. But they didn’t always work…</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cross Country Skiing Lesson 4: Collisions are also a good way of
stopping.<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Julia had stopped
at the bottom of a hill. I attempted to snowplough gracefully down to join her,
before realising that I wasn’t actually going to stop at all. "Nooooo",
I screamed as I inched inexorably towards her. Time stood still (I really was
going that slowly). My skis nudged into her legs which disappeared from beneath
her. I found myself obeying Lesson 2 once more and a second later Julia landed
on top of me, to the amusement of some passing Norwegians. I keep repeating
this over and over in my mind in slow motion, before realising that's the
actual speed at which it all happened!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">A couple of miscellaneous lessons from the week are now worth
mentioning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cross Country Skiing Lesson 5: The car journey may be as exciting as
the skiing itself.</b></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 10pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I should have twigged this
earlier in the week when the hire car I was driving first skidded around the
snowy hairpins into the mountains. My passengers’ pale faces and white knuckles
bore witness to their silent terror! Luckily winter tyres and traction control
are remarkably effective.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Cross Country Skiing Lesson 6: For the full skiing experience, a snow
bath is essential.</b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr07xN3VSW8qGdVFZeZ-h4dmFkHR75YgBK3-6aKAJ4lCPdmogI_1egYxAGn5si55lykc4Y2u-H9a1ln4AX6P2_a0oISh3xfYoc8GKuwztJLXmTTgeXh9Td5DY94t0aygZqePn3GxR3iZ4/s1600/ski7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr07xN3VSW8qGdVFZeZ-h4dmFkHR75YgBK3-6aKAJ4lCPdmogI_1egYxAGn5si55lykc4Y2u-H9a1ln4AX6P2_a0oISh3xfYoc8GKuwztJLXmTTgeXh9Td5DY94t0aygZqePn3GxR3iZ4/s320/ski7.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">The warped surface of a frozen lake</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My holidays often seem to involve
long periods of time without washing. I decided to remedy this one afternoon by
stripping off my fetid thermals and plunging headlong into a snowdrift (this
time deliberately). I’m not sure I got very clean, but the coarse snow crystals
certainly had a painful exfoliating effect on my skin!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Our final day of skiing was
perhaps the most interesting of all. Our route took us across a frozen lake.
Rather than remaining flat, the ice had buckled and warped under pressure,
creating a weird volcano effect, with craters and deep cracks everywhere. Observing
the local skiers as they deftly wove their way round these obstacles, I came to
the conclusion that my technical skiing ability was roughly on a par with that
of a Norwegian 4 year-old. I’ll just have to go back again and get better!</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-34269056739162970312013-03-11T11:05:00.000+00:002013-03-11T11:16:08.996+00:00Random Furtlings in Ogof Draenen<div style="text-align: justify;">
9/03/2013</div>
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Some of the best caving trips are the ones where you don't have a particular objective, just a vague idea of somewhere to go; perhaps with a bit of a survey or a description printed out. Any side passage can be worth visiting, and you just don't know what you will find. The results can be very satisfying. This was one such trip.</div>
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An early start, to meet Olaf and Chris who had the cave key, saw us getting changed in thick fog near the Lamb and Fox at 9am. It is always amusing to witness a German correcting the grammar of an English speaking native! Emma, Olaf and Chris disappeared off ahead of us to go digging, leaving Kathryn, Adrian, Sam, Jess and I to our trip.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A foot deep crack in the mud</td></tr>
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From Cairn Junction, our first bit of exploration took us left, towards (but I think not into) the Waterfall Series. We passed a fine cracked mud floor and, after a brief excursion for me into Ladder Passage (accessed via a slithery roped climb up and exited by slithering off the climb and being lowered off by Adrian), entered a pleasant gravelly stream passage. Various side passages were looked at here, but we soon turned around and headed back to Cairn Junction. Looking at the survey in Whitewalls later, we could have spent several more trips in this part of the cave.</div>
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Our vague objective now was to find Gilwern Passage and explore the northern end of the system; my previous trips had all been to the south. We squirmed down the Wonderbra Bypass to the large, bouldery Tea Junction and soon found the relevant turn off. Gilwern Passage is walking-sized and flat-ceilinged and charges northwards in a straight line for the best part of a kilometre, although the bouldery floor prevents cavers charging northwards at any pace! The main highlight here was Giles' Shirt.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giles' Shirt and Kathryn, Jess and Adrian's oversuits</td></tr>
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At the end of Gilwern Passage, Jess had a quick look up a climb into Old Illtydian's Chamber, but our main way on was through a boulder choke (unfortunately containing a sub-Adrian-gauge squeeze) into the Galeria Garimperios Extensions. We emerged into a mud-floored passage with knee deep watery trenches in the floor, full of 'mud potholes' just waiting to send us sprawling. The ceiling was adorned with clutches of metre-long straws. After a couple of hundred metres of slithering we reached a junction with a streamway.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaMFHZJwQOgFG0_NgU2OY2FlSz_TjbDy26DWpipYojJYAos-OIo-ufSnUn1AeIzmYQd1mJa6qO5S9f6cuyk9mX_FP6ywqOPiDwmvo2EzYM9K75fMjzQzD-0kHzHD4zkf7NCQPqy3qCbc/s1600/small-7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtaMFHZJwQOgFG0_NgU2OY2FlSz_TjbDy26DWpipYojJYAos-OIo-ufSnUn1AeIzmYQd1mJa6qO5S9f6cuyk9mX_FP6ywqOPiDwmvo2EzYM9K75fMjzQzD-0kHzHD4zkf7NCQPqy3qCbc/s320/small-7.jpg" width="206" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hearts of Olden Glory</td></tr>
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Following the stream to the left soon led to the duck into St Giles Passage. This would lead to some excellent cave, but would have to wait for another day, possibly with wetsuits. Instead we took the right hand branch at the junction to enter the Hearts of Olden Glory streamway, which is one of the loveliest yet austere passages you could imagine: sandy floored, with the gorgeously sculpted walls giving the passage beautiful undulating cross sections, and the occasional nest of straws in the ceiling. We loitered here for some time taking photos and enjoying the acoustics as the echoes of our voices would last for 7 or 8 eerie seconds. Again, the survey back at Whitewalls revealed swathes of cave further north waiting to be seen, but today time was pressing on so we tore ouselves away and returned through the choke to Gilwern Passage, and Adrian.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Higher Authority...</td></tr>
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We headed out of the cave after a brief side trip to the Beyond a Choke Streamway. I may have gotten into a certain amount of trouble when curiosity got the better of me and, against instructions from higher authority, I led us straight past Wonderbra Bypass to the boulder-hopping alternative route to Cairn Junction (I'd never been this way)! But a tackle-sack carrying penance seemed to assuage any mutiny. Soon enough we were sat, muddy faced, in the Lamb and Fox nursing post-cave pints.</div>
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I had half expected to see most of what the north of Ogof Draenen has to offer on this trip. Instead we seemed to come away with a wishlist of passages here to visit!</div>
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T/U 6.5 hours</div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-27588288310035597072013-02-11T18:01:00.004+00:002013-02-11T22:25:38.396+00:00A Non-Caving Trip<div style="text-align: justify;">
Sunday's caving plans were thwarted by our own laziness, so I thought I'd write about Saturday's non-caving trip to Snowdonia instead, since it was a 'minor epic'. Kathryn and I planned on practicing our winter skills by climbing Hidden Gully, on Glyder Fawr (we'd done a <a href="http://moran-mountain.co.uk/">course</a> last year and were keen to take things a bit further).</div>
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It's a fair old drive across to Snowdonia for us. When we pulled up in a layby near Ogwen Cottage, the persistent drizzle and low cloud base suggested it might be a wasted trip, but we'd come all this way so had to at least go for a walk. Donning coats and overtrousers, we trudged up to Llyn Idwal, our spirits about as foul as the weather. The occasional brief breaks in the cloud revealed mountain slopes stripped bare of snow by the thaw. We couldn't yet see our destination, Cwm Cneifon, but we feared we were a day too late for winter.</div>
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As we slowly gained height, traversing across Y Gribin's western flank, temperatures dropped and patchy slush gave way to snow. By the time we had reached the upper end of Cwm Cneifon, and the bottom of our chosen gully route, we were walking on hard snow, beneath rime-coated cliffs in thick cloud - glorious (based on my limited experience) winter conditions!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanks to Mark who we met at the top for sending the photos</td></tr>
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Our route began in the unimpressively named Easy Gully, a wide grade I snow slope, steep and hard enough to warrant kicking steps into the neve and, eventually, moving roped together. Hidden Gully is a narrower couloir, grade II, branching off to the right part way up Easy Gully. The combination of climbers above us and a thaw on the gully walls meant small chunks of ice and snow would disconcertingly rain down on us. We realised it was a mistake not to have worn helmets.</div>
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As we traversed across into Hidden Gully, the terrain underfoot became icier, and the area immediately beneath us rockier. The view of the cwm far below us was lost in the dizzying whiteness. The climbers above us had two axes each (we had one), helmets and more than just an 8mm thick 30m rope. In the space of a couple of minutes the day felt like it had changed from a fun snowy climb, to a more committing encounter for which it was uncertain whether we had the relevant skills or equipment! I think we both realised that we were operating in that grey area in which an undertaking changes from rewarding and exhilarating to foolhardy and dangerous. That's where the best adventures are found though... so we pressed on (in part because the thought of turning back was not very palatable either, and we could see the top of the gully).<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The top of Hidden Gully - Mark's picture</td></tr>
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Now treating the climb as pitches, I made an ice axe belay in a drippy alcove, where Kathryn joined me. It was a poor belay - placed too low down so that it was difficult to sit yourself below it, but it would do. Kathryn placed herself below the drips and recieved a thorough soaking as she belayed me up the pitch. I was well aware of the theory that you should place runners as soon as possible but there seemed to be no cracks that would admit a nut and no flakes to place a sling round. Nevertheless, I felt sure of my footing so climbed on. Soon I was past a chute to my right, which had previously been funnelling melted ice/snow onto us; that was something at least. Then I came to a steep and icy rock step. This felt a lot more exposed. I was relieved that, by teetering on my front spikes, I could just about reach a small crack in which to place a tiny nut above me. I hacked my axe into the ice, plunged my other hand into the slope above (oh for a second axe!) and hauled myself up into another alcove which afforded a reasonable belay stance. A dishevelled-looking Kathryn followed me up.</div>
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The next pitch was mercifully short and I easily found a good flake and another large crack for some convincing runners. It was surreal 'topping out' onto safe ground with the odd walker plodding past. The climbers ahead of us had stuck around to take photos of us on the last pitch which was great, although I felt a bit silly trying to improvise a belay in front of them with not much useful equipment left on my harness!</div>
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We weren't quite out of the woods yet. With visibility down to a few metres, we weren't sure where on Glyder Fawr's summit plateau we had arrived. We de-cramponned, got the compass out and headed in a generally correct direction to find what was probably the summit point. Following a compass bearing we then stumbled across a line of cairns and followed them down to Llyn y Cwm, where the snow was wet and slushy once more. The Devil's Kitchen path led us back to Llyn Idwal and then the car, where we could finally strip our sopping gear off.</div>
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Anyone reading this (which would be a surprise in itself!) with any winter experience will probably chuckle at my 'epic portrayal' of what is a very low grade winter climb! But it felt scary and exciting to us at the time. They may also tut chastisingly at our ineptitude. Admittedly there was some 'questionable' decision making (no helmets, not enough slings, belays placed too low, wrong choice of rope, getting up when the alarm went off at 6am...). Nevertheless it's very satisfying that we don't have to look very hard in the guide book at the moment to find things that feel so adventurous to us! One day we'll read this with amusement too, but for now we're quite pleased with our endeavours!</div>
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Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-82293954928360132822013-01-14T15:40:00.001+00:002013-04-04T10:10:16.027+01:00The Restaurant at the End of the Universe<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
12/01/12</div>
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After a Christmas full of excess, I'd built up a considerable paunch that needed removing. Well, that's a bit of an exagerration, but nevertheless it seemed like a good time of the year for a long trip to Daren Cilau with Emma and Tom. We were heading to the Restaurant at the End of the Universe - a campsite towards the further reaches of the cave (although this was only a day trip). Our plan was to take photos of the 'Blue Greenies', a set of formations which, I'd been led to believe, were not white.</div>
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Actually, this photo is the Restaurant at the End of the</div>
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Universe, not the Hard Rock Cafe.</div>
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We left behind a cold, damp morning at around 11am and crawled into Daren's cold, damp entrance series. Forty-odd minutes of squalour later, we were through. Familiar landmarks came thick and fast now, as we made good progress through the cave; Jigsaw Passage, the Big Chamber, the ladder and then boulder hopping in the Time Machine and Bonsai Streamway. After three hours or so underground we had now made it to the Hard Rock Cafe - the first campsite in the cave. I tucked into my carefully protected quiche and scotch eggs, and Emma and Tom started on the mounds of flapjack they'd brought with them.<br />
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Rock Steady Cruise was next: a series of pleasant sandy passages, separated by short crawls which filled my wellies with sand (I need bigger calf muscles, or slimmer wellies...). This was now pretty much the furthest I'd been in the cave before. Our next obstacle was Acupuncture Passage, a series of flat out crawls over a sand floor full of stones and sharp bits, hence the name. For the most part this was just plain tedious - the crawls were far too long. However, at the end it was also a little scary as a small bit of wall/ceiling had crumbled away partially blocking the passage (it looked stable now though). When it's a flat out crawl <i>beforehand</i>, a collapse is really not useful!</div>
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Somewhere near the Restaurant at the End of the Universe</div>
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We were relieved to emerge from Acupuncture Passage into an area big enough to stand in. A distant rumbling could now be heard emanating from a hole on the left. This hole was the climb down into a streamway - Ankle Grinder Bypass (I'm still perplexed as to what exactly it was bypassing - a sump somewhere I think). Ankle Grinder is a really nice looking passage. The problem is that the floor is full of watery potholes and ledges, waiting to catch the unwary, and in places the ceiling is a bit lower than you would like. It goes on in this manner for a long time. At the end of the passage was a short section of wading. In wetter weather this can become a proper duck or a sump, but today it was only thigh deep.</div>
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Emma admires some more formations</div>
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We clambered out of the stream into a slightly higher level. After climbing a short fixed ladder, we emerged into a sandy chamber full of camping mats and stoves: the Restaurant at the End of the Universe - hurray! The joyous moment was only tempered slightly by the discovery that my lunchbox was breached and my remaining quiche was now wet and gritty. Life can be tough sometimes.</div>
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It had taken us 4.5 hours to reach the Restaurant. We now spent the best part of two hours exploring some of the chambers nearby and photographing the formations. The Blue Greenies were suitably blue and green (stained by copper apparently) - we were impressed.</div>
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We retraced our steps towards the entrance. I felt fairly fresh at first, yet slowly but surely my body started to break as we neared home. Ankle Grinder finished off my neck muscles and Acupuncture Passage did a fine job on my knees, wrists and arms. We stopped briefly at the Hard Rock Cafe for more food (and so that I could wash the sand from Rock Steady Cruise out of my wellies and wet socks). By the time we reached the entrance crawl, it was a real struggle to hold myself up in a crawling position. I was glad of the canal sections, as I could flop into the water and let it take some of my weight. As I progressed, the water became icy cold, but that was a good sign - the entrance was close. We finally emerged to a clear, frosty night, with a little snow on the ground, 11 hours after we had left the surface. Fantastic trip!</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-60704429078036847542012-12-31T18:40:00.000+00:002013-01-01T22:59:01.766+00:00A Couple of Mines<div style="text-align: justify;">
A couple of quick mining trips to report before the New Year is out.</div>
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<b>8/12/12 West Mine, Alderley Edge</b></div>
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An RRCPC trip with a Derbyshire Caving Club member, Nigel, kindly showing us round some of the extensive Alderley Edge Copper Mines. We spent about 4 hours underground (with a few minutes in Engine Vein) looking round an absolute maze of passages. As far as I could make out, West Mine was made up of 3 horizontal levels with various climbs, shafts and ramps connecting them. But I might be wrong...! There weren't too many mining artifacts left, but we did see some impressive vivid blue copper deposits where water had seeped onto the passage walls. We also saw a mine shaft which features in part of Alan Garner's <i>Wierdstone of Brisingamen </i>(a childhood favourite) - a good bit of trivia!</div>
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Engine Vein is a separate mine and, although it's less extensive, it looked very impressive and would warrant a return trip when we have more time.</div>
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<b>24/12/12 Robin's Shaft Mine</b></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kathryn derigging the main shaft</td></tr>
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Kathryn and I did some yuletide caving in the south of the Peak District.<b> </b>Robin's Shaft Mine consists of a 100m deep shaft inclined at about 45-60 degrees, leading to a small amount of natural cave at the bottom. It's an interesting SRT exercise to get down the shaft, but not too much to see at the bottom. A fine way to spend a very rainy Christmas Eve though! 2 hrs T/U.</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-8923767595941651632012-11-05T09:51:00.000+00:002012-11-06T10:32:32.298+00:00Some South Wales and Yorkshire CavingA few more trips to report before my next few weekends are filled up with various wedding related shenanigans.<br />
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<strong>Ogof Ffynnon Ddu</strong><br />
27/10/12<br />
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Martin and I had driven down to South Wales to help show CUCC's latest band of <strike>victims </strike>recruits round. With Martin, Adrian and three novices (Mikhail, Rui, Josh) we decided to try the OFD I round trip. Overall I think we did a pretty good job of persuading them that we knew precisely where we were despite this very much not being the case!</div>
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We continued on smugly and found the slithery climbs down to the bolt traverse above the streamway. After negotiating this we managed to follow our noses through various passages back to the Toast Rack to complete the round trip in about 4 hours or so.</div>
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<strong>Llygad Llwchwr</strong></div>
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28/10/12</div>
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I have it on good authority that this cave is not called 'Ligad Licker'. This revelation has wreaked havoc with my internal monologue. Nevertheless it's an absolutely excellent cave. The main streamway goes through various sumps which are separated by short sections of large stream passage where you can get a close look at the sumps (but not too close as the water is deep in places and the current strong). A maze of well calcited higher-level passages join the river chambers to produce a fun combination of squirming, climbing, walking stopping and wading. Alex and Jess joined yesterday's dream team with novices David, Rob, Rui and Lara.</div>
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<strong>Rowten Pot</strong></div>
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3/11/12</div>
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Up at Bull Pot Farm for Bonfire Night, things were not looking good as we woke to a cold sleety morning. By the time we'd left Inglesport, however, the sun was out and a light scattering of snow numbed our toes as we trudged up the flanks of Kingsdale. Tony was providing moral support whilst I rigged, with Kathryn, Richard and Sarah behind. As the most hungover of our group, Martin and Anthony were following later to derig!</div>
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With a week of rain and now some snow melt aswell, the Rowten stream was very high. Luckily the first pitch is at the other end of the pot, so at first all we noticed was the ominous rumble of a very large, swollen waterfall somewhere below us. By the time we'd traversed across to the second pitch and rigged down to it's main hang in a narrow slot, the water's route had corkscrewed round and was only a few metres away, on the other side of a very airy shaft. This made for a very 'though-provoking' (read scary) situation. Nevertheless the route we took was pretty dry, but for a little spray. More of the same followed as the next exhillirating pitch dropped right next to yet another thundering waterfall. Clawing my way across to a rebelay on the opposite side of the shaft was more than a little terrifying as I very much wanted to avoid swinging back out into the water. The final pitch was in a dry alcove and comparatively quiet. The short section of stream passage below this pitch was cleary completely impassable but it was very impressive to feel the draft from all the water. By the time the five of us had regrouped, Anthony and Martin were just behind us, so with perfect timing we began prussiking out. The cave was so loud that those of us without whistles for communicating on the pitches were quite hoarse by the end of the trip!</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-34914727542299886972012-10-07T14:04:00.001+01:002012-10-08T13:41:06.086+01:00Car Pot6th October 2012<br />
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I'd been wanting to visit Car Pot for ages. Below the various awkward pitches and squeezes it's apparently really pretty. So Kathryn and I jumped at the opportunity to join Emma and Tom on a trip there.</div>
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A pre-trip Inglesport visit left me somewhat nervous ('Emma, if you die, can I have your oversuit?' among the reassuring utterances heard), especially as it had been so long since I'd last attempted a trip from the <a href="http://www.notforthefaint-hearted.co.uk/">Black Book of Misery</a> (and that attempt had ended about 10m into the cave).<br />
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We left Clapham and trudged up the lower flanks of Ingleborough in fine autumn sunshine and before I knew it I found myself at the bottom of the entrance pitch - so far so good.<br />
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<a name='more'></a>Below the entrance pitch, a short, narrow crawl leads directly to the head of second pitch (of 7m or so). With a ladder in tow, I squeezed through the crawl feet first, not really able to see where I was going. I was glad when my legs popped out into a little bit of space, thinking to myself that rigging the ladder would be easier now. Unfortunately, as soon as I got my head through and glanced down, I realised that the 'little bit of space' was actually the pitch head, which I was straddling on some small ledges. A rapidly passed lifeline through the crawl from Tom soon sorted my predicament, and all was well once more as we were belayed down the ladder.</div>
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Below the ladder the next obstacle was the Letterbox - a flat out traverse in a rift, followed immediately by a two and a half metre slither down the only section that's wider than one person's thickness. A wooden stemple half way down helped considerably and soon our tacklesacks were pushed into the tiny 'enlargement' below. We soon found ourselves contorted into a set of positions that would probably be illegal in many countries. There wasn't actually enough room for four people plus tackle in this bit, so Emma had remained perched on the stemple. Kathryn's head was a couple of inches from Emma's bum, whilst I had squeezed myself backwards into the rift to try and remove myself from the vicinity of Emma's groin. Tom, meanwhile had pressed on into the next section - the notorious Baptistry Crawl.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87YuxIxNO6ay82FbI-bw8Y7wdzrsddMaq3TtBQ_DC13UxFaCpTQEZDvMSRPoufL9IR760_o0oH-XrrSV7dxNHdhQIh4a6T2WeyQ-Eawm6jSs4M4asRetX8MXSeTxaBEWyPLnbp7um2dw/s1600/car-small-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi87YuxIxNO6ay82FbI-bw8Y7wdzrsddMaq3TtBQ_DC13UxFaCpTQEZDvMSRPoufL9IR760_o0oH-XrrSV7dxNHdhQIh4a6T2WeyQ-Eawm6jSs4M4asRetX8MXSeTxaBEWyPLnbp7um2dw/s400/car-small-3.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tom in one of the wider sections of Baptistry Crawl</td></tr>
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Baptistry Crawl is really not roomy at all. It's a flat out, sideways grovel in a tiny rift over a wet cobbled floor. With one arm pinned above you and the other in front, you can't pull yourself through, and it's too narrow to bend your legs, so you are reduced to squirming and wriggling to gain ground inch by inch. And there are 472 inches in 12 metres...</div>
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That being said, I don't think any of us found it as bad as we'd feared. Tom, who had been before, had bravely gone through first, shifting some cobbles (and sheep bones) out of the way so that we would fit, and pulling a rope behind him so that we could drag the tackle through. The rest of us were a little thinner so knew we would fit, and there was no danger of slipping into any narrower bits. It was just a case of being persistent and keeping calm.</div>
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After the crawl, we regrouped, donned SRT kits and Tom set off rigging the next two pitches, the first of which involved a squeeze onto the pitch head. There was now just one remaining pitch separating us from the large, pleasant and beautiful passages below, but it sounded wet. Tom and Emma abseiled down to the rebelay, 10m or so down but declared it too wet to be passable. We had negotiated all the difficult sections of cave but had been thwarted by the preceding week of wet weather! There was nothing to be done except head out.</div>
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The route out was largely incident free, the only issue being my foot jammer jamming into the rebelay knot at the constricted third pitch head. This necessitated removing it from my welly, rather than from the rope as is usually recommended.<br />
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Despite not making it to the bottom, it was very satisfying to have managed all the difficulties that Car Pot contains. A return trip after a drier period of weather is warranted.<br />
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4 hrs T/UEdvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-44077569165464618452012-08-15T15:04:00.003+01:002012-08-16T08:50:10.102+01:00Le Caving<div style="text-align: justify;">
Kathryn and I spent the first week of August in the Ecrins in the French Alps (via ferrata-ing and attempting some big mountains) before joining the Red Rose trip to the Vercors for some caving and canyoning.</div>
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Naturally I was hoping to post lost of photos of the amazing Vercors caves that we visited. Unfortunately on our second via ferrata my camera detached itself from my harness and went bouncing off into oblivion, never to be seen again. We returned the following day with a proper rope, intending to abseil off and hopefully find it clinging to an unlikely ledge. But one look at where it had fallen convinced us to give it up as a lost cause. RIP Canon Ixus 80IS, we had some good times together.</div>
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Here are some dodgy photos of some alpine scenery taken from my phone instead:</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Col du Sélé</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Glacier de la Girose</td></tr>
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On to some caves now.<br />
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<strong>Grotte de Bournillon</strong><br />
5th August. 3 hrs T/U with Dalek, Tony, Djuke, Adam and Stuart.<br />
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Dominated by its somewhat ridiculous 100m tall entrance, the Grotte de Bournillon basically consists of a huge passage storming off into the hillside, which soon reduces to a mere ten or so metres high and wide. Mark took some nice <a href="http://www.three-tuns.net/mark/photos/bournillon/">photos</a> of it a couple of years back. I couldn't take any photos of it myself...I no longer have a camera... It was very dry in the cave today, so Stuart, Adam and I refreshed ourselves with a swim in a pool in the entrance. We discovered that the small branch floating on the surface was actually a dead squirrel.</div>
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<strong>Trou Qui Souffle</strong><br />
7th August. 4 hrs T/U with Kathryn.<br />
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Kathryn was keen to get back underground after a couple of days being unwell, so with others doing a via ferrata, the two of us settled on a trip to the Saints de Glace entrance to the Trou Qui Souffle system. The Trou Qui Souffle entrance itself is a hole next to the road (literally - you could rig off you car) which pumps out cold air on a hot summer's day. Our similarly breezy entrance was a few hundred metres away from this one and, after a couple of pitches, the trip was dominated by a tall rift in very light coloured limestone, interspersed with small chambers and more pitches. The rift gained depth very quickly. Eventually we reached the Toboggan - a 100m greasy slide down which eventually reaches another pitch. This dropped us right into the huge Salle Hydrokarst, now with a much darker kind of limestone (something to do with geology apparently...). At the bottom of the chamber a large passage (with 2m wide scallops in the roof suggesting a sobering amount of water once flowed this way) headed off, eventually reaching a sump at -267m, our limit for the day. We'd rigged all the pitches, but in fact I think the in situ ropes, which we had assumed must belong to another party in the cave, are probably there all the time.</div>
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<strong>Résau Christian Gathier</strong></div>
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8th August. 6.5 hrs T/U with Kathryn, Mark, Tony and Djuke.</div>
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A fine and varied cave, starting with a couple of fairly awkward tight pitches which were far easier to get down than they were to get back up! Again, everything except for the entrance pitch turned out to be rigged. Below the entrance pitches the passage contains insane amounts of fairly muddy calcite, some of it very pretty, some of it, frankly, just in the way! A couple of larger passages (the Métros) lead to more calcite passage and then a pitch down into a lovely streamway, the Rivière de Bournette; all blue water, white limestone and stalagmites. After a climb upwards through boulders, out of the streamway, we then reached the Salle des Ténèbres which made yesterday's Salle Hydrokarst look like a small attic room. More clambering over boulders led to the Salle de la Cascade where the Montué stream passage appears with a possible throughtrip for another year. We turned around here, with a brief stop for Mark to take some photos of the Rivière de Bournette. I would have taken some photos myself but I couldn't as I don't have a camera...</div>
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<strong>Grotte de Gournier</strong></div>
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9th August. 6.5 hrs T/U with Kathryn, Dalek, Stuart and Djuke and Steve and Adam near the entrance.</div>
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The Grotte de Gournier is brilliant. Everybody should go here. Even if you're not a caver. It's really very fun. See Marks <a href="http://www.three-tuns.net/mark/photos/gournier/">photos</a> from a couple of years ago for a taster. Did I mention that I dropped my camera off a cliff?</div>
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The cave starts with a 40m long entrance lake; deep and blue. Tourists look on as you dinghy (or swim if you have a wetsuit) across to the climb and traverse at the far end. This leads to a couple of kilometres of huge fossil passage, adorned with mammoth stalagmites, gour pools and more. We were now looking for the climbs down into the famous Gournier river. There was a certain amount of confusion/lack of communication in finding the right hole, which resulted in Stuart vanishing for half an hour, but eventually the five of us were gathered in the stream. We now worked our way upstream, traversing vivid blue deep pools and climbing cascades with fixed metal staples or traverse lines in place. I was the only one in a proper wetsuit, and had great fun splashing into all of the pools, not caring how wet I got, as the others attempted teetering traverses round the sides to avoid getting cold and wet! After several hundred metres, we reached the 12m cascade and belayed each other up the side of it, using the fixed metal staples that have been put there. An airy traverse and more stomping upstream brought us to the Salle Chevalier and our turn-around point for the day.</div>
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We headed back downstream, jumping into pools or traversing round them according to the amount of neoprene we were wearing. After stomping through the stunning dry fossil passages, we met Steve and Adam who were messing around with the dinghy at the entrance lake. A brilliant trip - I intend to go back and make it further upstream one day!</div>
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Our final day in the Vercors was spent doing two canyons: the Furon and the lower part of the Ecouges. It's basically like wet caving without a roof on.</div>
Edvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6034754870420138826.post-33595381753778801112012-07-23T11:55:00.003+01:002012-07-23T22:27:47.310+01:00A Rematch with Fault Aven<div style="text-align: justify;">
21st and 22nd July at SWCC</div>
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<strong>Saturday: Ogof Fynnon Ddu 1 to Cwm Dwr via Fault Aven</strong></div>
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A couple of years <a href="http://edvinscavingblog.blogspot.co.uk/2010/11/back-to-south-wales.html">back</a> I went to try and have a look at the Pom Pom, a formation in Fault Aven, high above the OFD streamway. We saw some pretty cool stuff that day, but had not quite gotten to the Pom Pom so I vowed to return one day for a second attempt, this time with a camera.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Calcite flow on a false floor</td></tr>
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Matt, Jess, Nial, Kathryn and I set off from the OFD 1 entrance and were soon splashing up the streamway. Previous trips to OFD1 had always required a leader, so we'd never had to navigate ourselves; this time however, we were on our own. Nevertheless, through a combination of following the polish, using a description and a couple of minor wrong turns, we squirmed our way through the boulder choke, the Connection, and the Letterbox (I used up all my mail-based puns last time, but we got through in a jiffy). After a damp climb down from the top of the Diver's Pitch we were into Cwm Dwr.<br />
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We walked through Cwm Dwr's large sandy passages, and back to the streamnway, where, soon enough, I recognised the scaffold bar which helps you up the first awkward climb towards Fault Aven. The pitch up followed, and I managed to pull the rope up on the in situ cord and through the hangers at the top without too much difficulty. Kathryn belayed me and I climbed up, winning lots of "man points" in the process, but using up pretty much a whole weekend's worth of nerve at the same time. I rigged an extra hand line and belayed the others up.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Pom Pom</td></tr>
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Now in the Fault Aven Series proper, we first found the impressive calcite flow over a false floor that I'd seen last time. Soon afterwards we found the traverses towards Pom Pom Passage. Finding the lack of floor somewhat perturbing, I held back for a while (man points lost again), and Jess (immune to passages with no floor), Matt and Nial went first. I soon followed and it turns out that actually the traverses are not too horrendous at all and the floor isn't <em>that</em> far away. The trickiest bit is a very wide "back and legs" sytle stretch to avoid muddying some of the stunning calcite floor.</div>
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The Pom Pom itselft was amazing: a straw down into a lovely crystal pool, at the end of which (underwater) a cricket ball-sized crystal has grown. I've certainly never seen anything like that before. In fact I wouldn't have been surprised to find some hens teeth scattered around the passage nearby. Traversing over the floor we found the crystal pool I'd seen last time (about 10 metres away - we were so close!) and headed round to the top of the awkward climbs which lead back down to where Kathryn was waiting, so she could come and have a look.</div>
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After somehow mandhandling each other back down the climbs, we abseiled back down the pitch on Italian hitches and headed back out of Cwm Dwr via a couple of great side passages: Hoel Eira with it's huge moonmilk flow and another very nice sandy passage with a small stream in the Piccadily area. Great trip! </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crystal Pool</td></tr>
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More photos <a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10100317213084600.2567972.36902686&type=1&l=a5e0f72741">here</a>.<br />
Time underground: 8 hrs<br />
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<strong>Sunday: Pant Mawr Pot</strong></div>
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Pant Mawr has an impressive daylight entrance shaft, marred only by a foul smelling dead sheep which seems to have landed precisly where the abseil drops you (I guess that's no coincidence...). After a quick look upstream (with some impressive phreatic shelving), Nial, Kathryn, Aiora, Olaf, Siobhan and I spent an hour or so working our way through the impressively large downstream passage as far as the sump, which is surprisingly small. We had a look at the climb up to one of the pretty higher level grottoes but it looked a bit desperate so warrants a return trip with some slings/rope/bravery.</div>
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Back at the entrance pitch, Nial prussiked up and chucked our ladders down. It turns out two ladders strung together are the correct length for the pitch to within a few inches - the last rung just swings gracefully through the sheep's innards on the floor...<br />
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Olaf's photos <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/55416133@N03/sets/72157630717718904/with/7632385802/">here</a>.</div>
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Time underground: 2.5 hrsEdvinhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00958470341412529745noreply@blogger.com0