I'm descending first despite my desire not to be first or last: Bridget's supervising and Rob's gone for a wee. The initial few metres are terrifying, the rope's bouncing every time I feed some rope through the Stop (the descender) and the rope's only attached to one karabiner at the top. I wonder, too late, if this is such a good idea. It's only my second SRT trip, down the longest natural rift in the UK and I can't even imagine how hard it will be to prusik back up. Going down is hard enough, my elbow tendons are hurting from squeezing the lever on the Stop. But the discovery is the part of the challenge and the fun, and it's too late to back out now, so I block out any qualms, no place for second thoughts in a hole this big. I unclip the braking karabiner to gain more control over the rope and I discover I didn't have the lever of the Stop fully depressed, and with that corrected suddenly my descent smoothes out and accelerates, down past the wooden rings then the excavated rock walls, to the tunnel 45m below the surface.
The others join me and we wade through a puddle in the bedding plane towards our first view of the cavern. What a sense of awe, it's unfathomably massive, whoever would have thought that was sitting under a hill in the Peak District. We shine the torches out and down, illuminating such a small portion with each beam. Rob eagerly attaches to the belay then the rope and heads off down, after a while 'rope free!' echoes its way up from 65m below, then it's my turn. I'm clipped in but reluctant to teeter on the slippery stalactite knobs in clunky wellies in case I swing out unexpectedly over the void. I balance out until I'm free hanging and so feeling calmer, attach to the rope, then down I go.
As I descend I'm less disquieted by the bouncing, a smooth control over the rope comes quicker and I can take in my surroundings. I'm surprised by the features, the flowstone, the limestone ribs and mushrooms, this is more than just a big hole. I reach the half way ledge, the Event Horizon, and ab past its edge to reach the rebelay on its side wall. I transfer to the lower rope but for some reason am unable to take my weight off the cowstail to unclip it. I realise my mistake: instead of attaching to the second rope I've attached to bottom of the first, because the first rope disappears into the gloom, then rises again and the end it attaches to the bolts, making it look like a separate rope that heads off down the pitch. I'd wondered why there was only one attachment plus a loop, I was worrying that a karabiner had snapped and had been wondering what to do about it! Fortunately the correct rope is clipped into two points as expected, so I'm relieved to discover my mistake rather than alarmed. My new situation isn't unsafe, but isn't going to get me where I want to go - to the bottom! It takes a few minutes to reclip and correct, by which time my thighs are complaining about taking all my weight so I'm happy when I'm ready to carry on down.
The third pitch (65m) has quite a lot of spray from the waterfall which is disorientating (and dampening), a sense which is heightened because I'm slowly rotating round the rope and every time I look down Rob's light is in a different location, although he hasn't moved. The disorientation is welcome though, not scary, as it effectively reduces the dimensions of the cave. I feel a lot more professional and in control as I descend this last pitch, I don't feel the need to clip the rope from the Stop through a braking karabiner, instead I just accelerate down until at the bottom. Rob welcomes me with an exhuberant handshake and half a mars bar.
I pass the free hanging rebelay with only minor confusion, then am on the ledge, albeit attached to the upper rope. It's sensible to keep the rope tight so that I don't have to pull all the stretch back through the jammers when I'm ready to ascend again, but it's very uncomfortable and pulling at my harness, so I release a bit of slack with Bridget's help and have a rest and tighten my chest strap. It's still not particularly comfortable though, so after an inadequate pause I start on up the pitch.
The tighter chest strap allows me to stay more upright which makes me more efficient, and I find my rhythm quicker. I find 8 pullups then a rest to be a good pace, sometimes 5, sometimes 10 or 12, depending on how puffed I am. I realise I'm using bounces to my advantage - as the rope bounces down I slide up. Resting gives a good opportunity to look round, more so than on the way up. I try to imagine the feat of the 6 day aid climb that initially discovered the west gully, but the walls look so slippery it just seems unreal. Sometimes while resting I contemplate my position - free hanging on a rope, relying on some teeth in the metal cams of the jammers to prevent me sliding uncontrollably and finally back to the boulders on the Event Horizon. Fortunately fear and adrenaline cancel out and I feel happy, at home, natural almost.
The walls bell in and come within reach and I'm nearly there. Thankfully I haul onto the ledge and sit down, taking my weight off rope for first time in 130m and no idea how long timewise. After a chocolate snack and some readjustment to sit in a position that doesn't twist my knees or back (both aching) - legs round a stalactite, close to the edge and out of the puddle behind me - I turn my torch off and enjoy the complete darkness. I look down and see torchlight, which soon comes closer, casting shadows on the walls. The shadows flicker and sway, never still - in front of me equal light and shade, over to the right a large dark patch cast by a lip. As the caver comes closer the torch creates an eerie projection of his hands and jammer onto the walls. The image fills the cave, a giant Titan rising out of the depths, slowly clawing its way upwards. I marvel at the uniqueness of the sight: one's own torch illuminates but a small patch in front of you, but the light of another interacts with the entire space, creating subterranean art. It's not Rob or Bridget, but one of the riggers, shortly followed by the other, both making impressively short work of the pitch.
Rob arrives and I'm starting to get cold. 'I almost wish I hadn't given you half my mars bar!' Rob says. 'Good thing i've got this then' and say and hold up the half a twix i've been clutching ready for a what seems now an unfathomable amount of time. I hand it over and navigate the foot deep puddle to get moving again and warm up. I retrieve my gloves from inside the velcro of my oversuit, and smell of warm sweat rises and fills my nose. My fingers are blistered, but I start back up the manmade shaft, past the blasted rock, past the big rings, past the ladder, and to the surface and the snow. The wind howls and I huddle in the partial shelter of the scaffolding to maintain warmth. It's so cold, dear god it's so cold. I slowly stamp my feet as the other two inch towards me one by one, then between us we close up the shaft - shut the hatch, lay the planks and fasten the scaffolding. With fingers numb it's a complicated chore, but accepted without question as were the rest of the components of the trip.
We start walk back to car, back through the snow drifts and biting wind, and my heels go numb. The walking gets warm blood pumping though, and I start to defrost, at a glacial pace but warming nevertheless. One toe comes back, then three and a heel, then all 10.
It's too late for the pub, too cold for a debrief... we go our separate ways, but despite the rush to head home to warmth, despite the desolation of the cave, despite the brief encounters on the ledges, there was still a crucial team element, all looking out for each other.
It was a memorable trip, in many ways, in the footprint of Titan.
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| Me at the top of the main chamber, photo by Bridget |
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