Craig
a Ffynnon, South Wales -
16/02/2008
Report by Dave Gledhill
- North-West Correspondent
Cavers: Dave Gledhill
(EPC), Dunka (EPC), Bob Toogood (EPC)
A relaxed start to
the day saw our intrepid adventurers venturing forth along the
tram-road from Whitewalls, basking in the bright winter sun and
protected from the freezing chill courtesy of Dunca’s car heater.
Spirits were high(ish) at the prospect of the imagined displays of
formations to come, in what is widely reported as being the
best-decorated cave in the country. None of our heroes had done this
cave before and it had been high on Bob’s tick-list for the last 73
years. They were on their way, Dunca driving and Bob navigating –
with these two seasoned stalwarts taking the lead, what could
possibly stop them now?
After 500 yards
they stopped. Turning the car around, a tactical retreat to
Whitewalls was performed in order to seek directions to the cave
entrance. The entrance via a small, heavy-duty steel door, was
reminiscent of Fort Knox in
its complexity to breach, it having taken nearly 10 minutes to find
the padlock, and a further five minutes for ‘Houdini’ Dunca to
overcome the complexities presented by Messrs. Chubb. With the crux of
the cave behind them, our 3 heroes proceeded through the entrance and
into the teeth of a fiercely howling draught.
At a
reported
eight miles in length, the cave has the potential for luring the
unwary into situations of complete lostnessness. With this in mind, a
cunning strategy had to be carefully drawn up to avoid entrapment in
the Daedalen maze of this dark underworld; the decision was taken to
follow the bright orange marker tape. The strategy worked well, walking
through passages interspersed with stals, straws and more flowstone
features than a stick could be shaken at, had a stick to be had.
Alas, Stick was in absence, thus remained unshaken. Surmounting the
first choke via steel
ladders and bars, led our heroes into further large passage. The
marker tape ploy was working well and the party advanced at a pace. A
junction saw the first use of the survey and description and it is
here, sad to say, became lost(ish).
A
brief sojourn around the cave
thereabouts found our heroes back where they’d been, and taking the
ladder, rope and chain climb were once more unlost at the foot of the
bloody obvious draughting way on. The choke known as second, was unlike
the first, it requiring the use of a selection of grunts, some
thrutching, a mild curse or two, and Anglo Saxon terms that appeared
to relate to the child of an unwedded mother. The chambers and passage,
encountered
post-thrutch, were of a size that impressed our heroes, even if they
were somewhat muddy at first. Each section that passed had more
straws than the before and also increased in size. Climbing a slope,
the roof soared away and the flowstone, which hung down was most
good. “Is that it?” said young Dunca, with a fag in his hand “I
thought it was meant to be better than this?”. The third choke that
followed was
squeezed through on the right, once again leading to emanations of a
most foul kind. Hurricane highway was low and was long, but Bob said
he was glad of the foresight to bring along a bag, from now on he
won’t be without. Transcending the crawl to the passage
beyond gave the fearless three respite for their knees. A right turn
ahead lay in their path and was taken with hope in their hearts, for
surely now they could not fail?
A
large dry mud chamber, navigated by
tape, led over the ruckle (or at least that’s what it said in the
book). Approaching the fourth choke, our heroes heard the far-off
dulcet tones of an approaching party, their accents being honed from
best Dudley. Was that a tear in young Dunca’s eye as he was taken
by memories of childhood past? Or was it simply his irritable bowel?
The
fourth choke was conquered, as
described by the book, start off right and then go to the left, a
feature of most chokes it seems. The final navigable obstacle passed,
two of the dashing young blades made their way to the foot of the
final choke. They scoured its flanks for some means of access, but
like others before found defeat. They retraced back through the
fourth choke to find their companion much relieved; it was obviously
not the childhood memories that had nearly brought a tear to his eye.
The
journey now ended, our brave
heroes returned, following tape Thesus-like to the cold remnants of
day, whereupon they went to the pub.
Click [here]
for Dave Gledhill's photos from the trip.
Click on the
images above to enlarge
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