Depth through thought
OUCC News 9th February 1994
Volume 4, Number 13
|DTT Volume 4 index|
Mon 7 Feb 08.00 ship time. As the intergalactic SpeleoShip Oucch slipped gently through the heavens pootling along on auxillary power Cpt Jim tucked into his SpaceFlakes, sat down on the comfy command sofa and enjoyed his breakfast.
Alert Alert Alert
It was Howard Jones the intergalactic wanderer on the deep space communicator. Vital documents were missing from Space Station Ghar Parau. Former Space Admiral Mann had set out to deliver them but he had been kidnapped, tortured and dropped into a black hole... Could Space Cadet Gavin retrieve them? or reassemble them from the garbled last transmission of S.A.Mann?....
It is not that an uncommon phenomenon in intergalactic pootling, a reality distortion, you think you're gently floating through the nebula and dust clouds, just taking it easy, getting on with the mission when in fact you are...
TEAM CLUSTERFUCK; GUNNING THE MAIN PHOTON DRIVES TO 110%, THE HOPELESSLY DAMAGED CONTROLS IRREVOCABLY LOCKED ONTO THE HEART OF THE NEAREST SUPERNOVACaptain Jim
We went down in two groups of five, each with a guide. A natty little dam at the entrance reduced the precipitation inside the cave entrance to the same level as outside. Ladders were all of the solid variety and only swayed about a little bit....
But yes, the pretties really are pretty (and our group wasn't allowed to move on until we had each sworn that we were impressed). On the whole people have done a good job of keeping them clean and un-headbutted. A large cascade of flow stone particularly spectacular. Also cave pearls. A first time see for me. Through a crawl, and just in front of my nose, under the left wellie of the chap in front of me - there they were. I can thus report that they're not as delicate as their beauty suggests.
Quite a reasonable level of caving entertainment
too. Some nice little tricky bits to keep you on your
toes, elbows, somebody else's head etc. I think the
most memorable sight was that of a glowing red
buttock bulging out of a rather well ventilated club
furry suit (rather tastefully decorated with some
scraps of yellow PVC). Perhaps to avoid rosy
cheeks one should wear a bushy beard on all of
We soaked in the atmosphere, reminiscing of discovery days, and breathing in yet more radon. Then out for the big thrutch. When I emerged, Tony and Urs were haggling over an empty Snickers wrapper, and Tony had overheated (well, what do you expect in a wet suit and unexpectedly carrying diving weights and line out from the lake). But we started bimbling nonetheless, as you do. Thus, bimbling took us inevitably up into the higher boulder choke reaches of the cave, past some nice formations, and, even more inevitably, into the "promising" tighter, looser, sillier bits. And indeed, a couple of small boulder passes looked unpushed, so Urs and I chose one each and wriggled. Rocks moved precariously, as they do. I passed a couple of short squeezes into not very much except more boulders. But Urs had more luck, and soon it became clear that she was making reasonable progress up into the choke. We had to follow.
There were little, distant squeals of delight. Urs had entered a small chamber. From there, the route went on, up through choked boulders. A "gentle" footshove from me and then Urs had pushed on up into quite a sizeable new chamber (5metres by 2metres, and climbs up into the roof). I checked out another side lead to find another small chamberette, while Urs attempted to push a squeeze at the top of the climb. Despite leaving quantities of hair on the roof, it wouldn't go. I tried it, and it certainly wouldn't go, but we'll be back.
Elated by the finds, so unexpected for a Sunday afternoon's bimbling in so known a cave, we started heading out. But where was Tony? He had shouted to me earlier, but I had misunderstood amongst all the excitement. We assumed he had gone out, but then he wasn't there at the entrance. Urs went back to the van (across those muddy fields), and returned (fields again...) to announce that he wasn't there and that she had found no evidence of his presence (you know, plastic bags, oranges, stockings, that sort of thing). Oh. I put the ladder back on the pitch, and we headed off in search of....don't know really. But it was call-out time (another cock-up). Back across the muddy fields, as you do.
But we found Tony, back at the hut, busy taking
off his rubber gear, having walked all the way
home from Cuckoo (as you do). "But I left my
wet suit top and lamp in the van". And he had too.
Cock up. Still, it is on just such days that
discoveries are made...
Canyoning in Australia with Harry...
Beneath the City with the Flowerpot men...