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We laughed and joked as we made a slow sweaty ascent of Jultayu
Mountain in the late afternoon sun. When we reached the entrance
shakehole we changed leisurely, soaking up the last UV rays we would
experience for the next five days. Finally we entered Pozu Jultayu for the
700m descent to underground camp. We reached our destination at
midnight. In a secluded corner of a large chamber and with the
crashing waterfall theme tune playing on constant loop in the background we
found our temporary home.
Tim and Lou, who had descended the
cave a couple of days previous to us, were absent, exploring upstream
somewhere. Unknown to us they were putting the final touches on the
bolt climb up Viagra Falls, the obstacle between us and virgin territory.
We changed, ate and climbed into our pits. Whatever we were in store
for tomorrow we were sure we would need a decent night's sleep. At
7:00am, the hallucinogenic darkness and the monotony of the waterfall was
broken by the lights and mutterings of tired cavers returning from a hard
trip. Quickly coming round we listened intently as Tim and Lou
recounted the eight hours of bolting it had taken to surmount Viagra Falls.
Then with disbelieving ears we grinned as we realised what lay ahead.
Tim had been so tired after he had finished the bolting that he hadn't
ventured into the wide-open but unexplored passage beyond. This was
it!
I have been caving since I was sixteen and the desire to find
new cave set in almost as quickly as the caving bug itself. Now, at
twenty-one, and having dreamt about this moment more than fast cars and
pretty girls, I could hardly believe I would be walking into virgin passage
the next day. Even with these thoughts at the front of my mind the
task of getting out of our warm dry pits and putting on cold wet caving kit
still bordered on the psychologically impossible. In a dream I can
hardly remember we changed, ate and bid our farewells to Tim and Lou, who,
after a long sleep were bound for the surface and then back to England.
The route upstream was complicated and difficult in places; it was not
without its rewards though. The huge cavern at Echo Beach and the
mottled grey streamway of Coral Corner were just two highlights of the
3½-hour journey to the limit of exploration. As we neared our
destination the wind grew stronger and the roar of falling water louder, our
pace accelerated and we entered a spray-filled chamber. Each of the
droplets was picked out by our carbide lights and obscured the crashing
torrent of Viagra Falls that entered high up on the opposite wall. To
one side hung a slender nylon rope, joining the sparkling dot-to-dot of
aluminium hangers that studded their way up the smooth limestone walls.
I traversed around the side of the chamber, slipped around the back of the
waterfall and clipped onto the bottom of the rope. With my heart
beating faster and faster I reached the top of the climb and ran out the
rope to a natural belay a safe distance away from the edge. Here I
waited for Hilary to join me. A bend in the passageway prevented me
from seeing into the unknown, but carefully I sorted out the surveying gear
and refilled my generator from the stream. I wanted to savour every
second and the anticipation and expectation were all part of it. I had
waited five years for this; five more minutes seemed neither here nor there.
We had decided to survey as we explored; this allowed us to appreciate
the new passage for longer and also meant that when we became tired we could
just turn round and head swiftly back to camp. Pepper-potting past
each other we took it in turns to go first. Each time our lamps would
illuminate rocks that had lain in permanent darkness for thousands of years.
My eyes were wide as they soaked up the reflected light from virgin passage.
This was the purest moment of my life. All my dreams realised, all my
ambitions fulfilled. Nothing else mattered as we traversed around
crystal clear, green tinted pools of icy water. Never had caving been
so good. I had never seen such beautiful stream passage in my life let
alone been privileged to discover it. Not only did it look good, it
felt fantastic. Each time we came to a deep pool it was as if the cave
had been designed for human passage. There was always a devious and
exciting traverse around it. This was it!
In respect for Tim
and Lou's eight-hour bolting session, which had enabled us to live our
dreams, we named the passage the After Eight Series. Following on from
this we named the features and chambers we found on similar minty themes.
We were stopped in our tracks by a pool so deep and green and clear I could
hardly believe my eyes. Bendicts of Mayfair was impassable anywhere
near water level and so a high level traverse starting further back was
found. It seemed fitting that our passing should not disturb the
waters of such a pristine pool. Beyond, the passage became more
interesting and teetering on tiny footholds below the surface of the water
was the only way to prevent a waist-deep wade in the chilly water.
Eventually the stream slowed and widened, and the passage roof arced up out
of sight. The noise of rushing water faded into the darkness of a
lofty chamber. Our lights barely penetrated to the roof and the sudden
tranquillity contrasted sharply with the constant noise of the streamway we
had been following for so long. A chamber of such regal proportions
floored by the purest white sand deserved a truly magnificent name but we
are cavers and not poets so we called it the Royal Mint. A narrow slot
into a boulder choke bypassed the rising sump at the far end of the chamber.
Although the way on could be seen we decided to call it a day. We were
a long way from our beds and we were hoping to fall into the same day and
night cycle as the cavers coming down to join us that night. Feeling
tired and overwhelmed by what I had seen, we turned around and headed back
to camp.
We reached camp at about 1:00am to find the next group of
cavers tucked up inside their pits. We excitedly told them what we had
found and made arrangements for the following day. Jo, Pip and JC were
going to look at other inlets that still required pushing and surveying and
this left Hils and me with exploring above Viagra Falls further. We
decided that combining the two days that we had at underground camp left
into one mega pushing trip would be more efficient. It was now close
on 8 hours just to the limit of exploration and back without even doing any
pushing. We slept for a very long time in order to ensure that we were
ready for the long trip ahead of us.
We awoke to find that the other
group had set off and we quickly set about stuffing ourselves with the two
breakfasts we had allowed ourselves. We set off upstream at a terrific
pace. We were not carrying tackle bags this time and the going was
much easier. Viagra Falls was negotiated and soon we were standing in
Tic-Tac Choke at the limit of exploration. Traversing using our full
body length over a deep, dark pool we entered the continuation of the Royal
Mint on the far side of the choke. This chamber was more impressive
than the first and was dominated by a huge monolith that had peeled itself
from the right hand wall. The chamber gradually turned into a wide
snaking stream passage of impressive proportions. The survey tape was
run out all the way and huge legs were put into the book.
The large
passage came to a halt at three large boulders. The streamway
continued on the following side via a short wet section. I climbed up
onto the final boulder to get a good line of sight down the next section of
passage whilst Hils ducked underneath. After taking the measurements
down the unusually straight hading rift I decided to traverse down off the
boulder along an obvious line of hand and foot holds. Having done so
much traversing in the upstream passages I had forgotten about the brittle
nature of Picos limestone and I had only taken one step before my left
handhold completely disintegrated causing me to slip from my foothold.
I remember the sheer horror that crossed my mind as looked down at the
five-metre drop below me. Somehow I managed to stabilise my fall on
the slightly sloping left hand wall and landed with my feet shoulder width
apart, calf deep in water on the only flat boulder in the stream. To
say I felt lucky or relieved would be an understatement. The only
injuries were a couple of minor cuts on my right hand and a slightly shaken
psyche. After talking absolute crap for five minutes and hopping round
excitably I finally calmed down enough to resume the surveying.
The
narrow passage, Me, The Compass and The Clino, named after our rather
unusually sensual methods of cleaning our surveying kit, eventually ended at
three cascades each pouring into a deep pool. At the top of these
falls a small inlet entered from the left and the main passage took a right
turn. We looked in desperation at the long deep canal that now stood
between us and the open passage beyond. There was no way to cross this
obstacle. The only traverse we could see was very high up in the rift
and after my recent lack of traversing skills I wasn't too keen on this.
As for swimming through the cold canal, which disappeared around a corner
with no sign of getting any shallower, well that was even less appealing.
After a quick look up the very tight and thrutchey inlet we decided to call
it a day.
We had surveyed approximately 425m of glorious stream
passage and had brought this year's exploration to a suitable conclusion at
an obstacle for next year's team to pass. By the time we reached camp
we had been caving for almost twenty hours non-stop and were absolutely
shattered. I found it difficult to sleep nonetheless. The
thoughts of next year were already on my mind. I realised then that my
dreams hadn't been realised, or my ambitions fulfilled. They had just
temporarily been quenched. The desire to find new cave had increased.
Now I knew what it felt like I had become addicted. I had to come back
next year; there was just no question about it.
[Rich received the much-coveted
OUCC Lemming Award
for the incident recounted in the antepenultimate paragraph. ]
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