Edward Frank

Deep is the Darkness

I am a mile from the cave entrance and my last light has gone out. I am alone.I know it is wrong to go caving alone. I have lectured many others on the folly of doing so, but it was supposed to be an easy retrieval of a data recorder. I am not lost, simply in the dark. I do not expect anyone to come looking for me anytime soon. Again, the height of folly to not tell someone where I was going and when I would be back. But that is for mere mortals, and not myself. I am not frightened, just annoyed with myself. 

When I say I don’t have a light, that is not strictly true. I have a flash for my film camera. I can flash it every 15 to 30 seconds until all of the batteries are drained. There are cavers who are blind who successfully traverse caves, and rig and climb up and down pits. I know I can make it back to the entrance; it will just take a while. I will set off the flash to see where I am and the path I need to take. Then I will go as far as I can before flashing again.  

I am angry. I am just going to sit here for a moment. It is total darkness without even a hint of light. You can’t see your hand in front of your face. At least that is what everyone says. When I am in total darkness, I think I can see the vague outlines of things; passage walls, rocks, my hand. I am not sure if I really can or not. Perhaps it is simply afterglow from minerals giving up a tiny last trace of light absorbed before my lights went off. Perhaps it is just a memory of their position that sits in my mind from when there was light. Maybe I really do see something. I have never been able to figure out the answer on trips with others. Maybe I will this time.

I will sit here and catch my breath, calm down. I open my senses. Caves are not silent places. I can hear the drops of water dripping from the ceiling and echoing through the chambers. I can hear the sound of a distant stream flowing a long way farther down this tunnel. The sounds echo off the walls. There are the smells of mud. Perhaps a hint of fungi growing on some wood debris. There aren’t any bats in this system, so no bat smell, no bat sounds. People expect to hear rock falling or skittering in the cave chambers. That is silly. These caves have been here for thousands of years or longer.  It would be quite a coincidence for someone to be here during one of the rare times a rock has fallen in all that time. It does happen. Rocks are lying on the ground, but I have never been there when it happened.

There is a slight breeze blowing down the passage from the distant entrance. Pressure differences. High pressure outside the cave breathes in, low pressure and the cave breathes out. I stand up face the breeze. I think I can faintly see the cave walls…I know I am crazy. Flash. I am about 10 feet from the left side of this large passage. The trail ahead goes for maybe 300 feet before it branches and leads into a side passage. I work my way to the wall and then slowly work my way up the passage, in the darkness. I take small steps, careful not to twist an ankle on the breakdown blocks.  The process seems to take forever. Where is that side passage? I am stubborn and continued to struggle onward in the dark. My vision. Yes, I still think I can faintly see the wall, but the floor is lost in the darkness. There isn’t any detail. I am convinced it is only my imagination, but still….

Finally, I reach the side passage off to the left.  I know it is a round tube about 3 feet across. Piece of cake. I need to get myself oriented in the right direction. Flash. There is that moment of self-doubt when I need to check to see if I am remembering correctly. I don’t know how many flashes before the camera dies. Hopefully, there are enough to get me out without too much problem. It will be a real pain if the flash dies.   I remembered correctly. Crawl. Things always seem longer when you can’t see where you are going. 

A small stream flows down this passage. The water is frigid. The jagged little rocks cut into my knees.  I used to wear knee pads but found they bound in the back of my knee and hurt worse than the stones did. I still use them if I know I am going to be crawling a long way over pointy stones, but for this trip. No need. Still the stones are sharp when you can’t see to avoid them. There is a strong breeze blowing down this passage into my face. I think I see the walls around me. I reach out to touch the nearest. It isn’t there. I move my hand a couple inches forward and find the wall. Depth perception problem or imagination? I crawl and crawl. 

I feel the passage open up into a larger chamber. The sense of tightness is gone.  I can’t see the passage walls anymore. This should be a large dome. I remember a water pool in the center of the chamber. I will need to skirt around that. The way to the left is strewn with breakdown blocks and some massive speleothems. My best bet is to go to the right and circle around from that direction. The chamber is maybe 50 feet across. A side passage leads off to the right about halfway around the chamber. I will need to avoid that and head straight across the gap to the far wall. I feel for the edge of the tunnel, get my bearings, and stand up in the chamber beyond the crawlway.  Ok, time for another flash. It is taking longer to load this time. It seems to take forever before the flash is ready to go. Not a good sign. 

 Flash.  The chamber lights up before me. My plan was a good one, so I stick to it. I carefully circle around the right. I feel the wall curve into the side passage. I back up a little and orient myself. I slowly work my way across the open space. My arms are flailing ahead looking for the far wall. It is only about 15 feet, but I am in open space. I think I see the far wall ahead just as my fingers touch. Ok, do I trust myself enough that I can continue? Or do I try the flash again?  I decide that I trust myself and continue onward, keeping my right hand against the wall surface. After a short time, my hand touches the rope, and I can let out a breath of relief. 

The rope leads to the main entrance passage at the top of the pit about fifty feet above. I know the pack with climbing gear is here somewhere. I feel around with my hand on the rope. I know the pack is here somewhere. I can’t seem to find it in the dark. I get out the camera. After a long time charging—flash. There is the pack lying off to the left about ten feet away atop a large breakdown block. Keeping ahold of the rope, I make my way over the block and retrieve the pack. Now back to the base of the drop. 

I can feel for the gear. It isn’t hard to do the rigging. First, I put on my seat harness and tighten it in place.  Then, one loop with an attached ascender goes around my left foot. I next slip on my chest harness. A second strap goes around my right foot. A strap from this foot is attached to an ascender at knee height. Another bungee cord runs from the top of the ascender and straps into a loop at my left shoulder. A second loose strap also runs from the knee ascender and clips into my seat harness. I clip the rope into the foot ascender, then the free knee ascender, and finally to the ascender attached to the top of my shoulder harness. 

 The climb to the top of the rope is easy. You really can’t get lost when attached to a rope. At the top, I move back away from the lip of the drop and sit on the ground. I unfasten my gear one piece at a time and pack it away in the climbing gear bag. I keep a hand on the climbing rope. When my gear is packed away, I follow the rope to where it is tied off. I unclip the carabineers, untie the figure 8 knot, and unloop the rope from its anchor.  I sit down to catch my breath. So far, so good. I sit for maybe 20 minutes. I have only one climb and the main entrance passage to get out of here.  By now I am completely disoriented. I need to see which way to go lest I get turned around and walk off the edge of the pit I just climbed. I turn on the flash. Wait for the ready light. Finally—flash.

The passage continues about 200 feet or so to the base of a short scramble. The passage is fairly open, 10 feet high, and straight. I work my way up the passage running my hand along the left wall. I can hear my footsteps echo in the passage as I walk. I continue at a good pace until I feel I am getting close to the scramble. Then I slow down. I take each step one at a time so that I don’t run into a rock ledge. I take a step, feel ahead with my foot. Take another step, and feel ahead with my foot. After doing this for maybe fifty times I reach the scramble. 

 The best section to climb is up along the left side of the passage. It is a climb on dissolution ledges and breakdown blocks. Some of it is loose. I question whether or not I should use the flash. My need to see the path eventually outweighs my concern the flash will die. I turn on the flash. The tiny orange light is glowing faintly flickering. I wait and wait and wait. The flash never reaches a full charge. 

This likely will be my last shot. I face the scramble and go ahead and push the button.  There is a flash. Not as bright as before, but the scramble slope is burned into my mind as I begin the climb. I move carefully making sure it is solid wherever I place my weight. It would be annoying to fall and break my leg and die this close to the entrance. The plan is simple. Just head upward. If I find a ledge too big or too unstable to hold my weight, I will move over a short distance and try again.  I won’t go back down. There is a much greater chance of falling if I try to go back down than if I keep pushing upward. After a few slips, and some scraped up hands and knees, I reach the top. 

 I pull myself up into the passage beyond. It is still daylight outside and I can see a faint light ahead from the entrance. The passage winds back and forth slightly toward the entrance. There are a series of pools that run down the center of the passage. I will need to first go on one side, cross over some breakdown bridges, and continue down that side. I don’t remember how often I need to do that. I decide to crawl down the passage. There is kind of a trail left by cave visitors that I can feel with my hands. I crawl for a while and find where passage turns sharply to the left. I squat and feel ahead with my foot for the breakdown bridge. I slide on my butt down the slope.  There, I find it with my foot. I feel the shape of the block and the shape and position of the next one ahead. I cross from the right to the left side of the passage. 

 Now the light is getting stronger. I can see the faint glimpses of passage that leads to the entrance. I still move slowly because I don’t want to trip on the uneven floor. After a few hundred feet, I can see clearly. The rest of the trip to the entrance is uneventful. I reach the sunlight at the entrance and plop down my gear. I check to make sure I have everything. I have left behind some of my biners, but I can go back and get them later. 

My adventures today would make a good story, but I don’t think I will mention it to anybody.

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