tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68116298574373669852024-02-24T23:10:41.178-08:00We Once Were CaversWhen I entered high school, about 1958, I read the book, "The Caves Beyond", by Joe Lawrence, Jr. and Roger Brucker. It captured my imagination.
I sought caves in the sparse and rocky New England hills.
We moved to Missouri, where I was in caver paradise.
The Arkansas' Ozarks showed great caving potential.
I will describe highlights of our caving there, emphasising original explorations.
Return with us now, to those thrilling days of yesteryear...
(No cave locations will be revealed.)Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.comBlogger11125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-7343586536685283882011-06-08T05:10:00.001-07:002012-07-20T02:25:56.139-07:00Short But Sweet: Lost HollowDuring the winter of 1975, I spent a great deal of time poring over topographical maps of the local caving region. Across the river, to the north, we knew of a number of large chambered caves, often with crumbling Saint Peter Sandstone ceilings and walls, but to our knowledge, none were extensive.<br />
<br />
While closely examining the "X" quad, I noticed a large, multiple contour depression, tucked away in a corner of the map. It looked to be several hundred feet long and over 50 feet deep, hidden away in the pine forest. The map showed unpaved roads and trails to the sink.<br />
<br />
With the goal of finding the recondite sink, Doña Cuevas and I took the ferry across the river on a cold January day in 1976. We got the best directions we could locally, but after driving down the stream valley and up a rougher ride onto the ridge flanks, we became turned around on the trail.<br />
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We had been traversing the base of a small sandstone mesa, but in the wrong direction. We soon realized our error, and set off in the other direction. This overgrown unpaved trail half circled the pine forested mountain. In fifteen minutes or less of easy hiking, we crested the low side of a large sink.<br />
<br />
The sink is about 400 feet long by 125 feet wide, and with a depth of about 50 feet at the sandstone headwall.<br />
<br />
There were at least 3 stream beds entering the sink, but only the left or northern one was active at the time. The water cascaded over the sandstone walls of the sink and sank into piles of boulders, debris and jammed logs. These hinted at the force of the water entering the sink in wet weather. Best of all is a 25 foot high, Gothic arched cave entrance under the headwall. Steamy air wafted out into the frosty January day.<br />
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We took small flashlights for a quick look inside. Although we expected little from caves in the St. Peter Sandstone, this seemed more promising.<br />
<br />
We stepped inside, where the warmer moist air of the cave quickly fogged my glasses, and although my view was obscured, I knew that it was worth a detailed look with better lighting.<br />
<br />
We loaded and fired our carbide lamps and entered again.<br />
<br />
The entrance passage was easy walking on a rough gravel floor. After less than 100 feet, the ceiling briefly descended, but a short jog to the right, then left again led to a continuing passage of increasing ceiling height.<br />
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We abruptly came to a climbable drop down. This was about 6 feet and easily accomplished. A few yards beyond the foot of the climbdown, a narrow crack opened along the length of the floor. I dropped a rock and a large splash resounded seconds later.<br />
<br />
That was as far as we were able to go that day. We didn't feel confident in our abilities to drop this pit on our own. The vertical gear was back at the car, 3/4 mile away. Moreover, almost no one knew where we were.<br />
<br />
Although the entrance passage had been visited by others, we knew of no one else who'd been down the pit. We were very excited by this find, and we made plans with our caving friends back in Springfield, MO to join us for a descent of the pit the next weekend.<br />
<br />
We gathered a crew of cavers experienced in vertical work.<br />
When we arrived at the crack in the floor, the rappel rope had to be rigged so that it would pass through a wider space in the crack. Even so, the crack was just big enough to slip through. (Later, we found other means of rigging that made an easier descent and ascent.)<br />
<br />
Just below was a horizontal tube in which one could just stand before dropping the pit. Neil Lennon went first, The canyon drops 94 vertical feet and the waist deep pool at the base was avoidable by pendulum maneuvers on the rope.<br />
<br />
I followed him, on the exhilarating rappel, and he pulled me over to the beach when I was 25 feet above the "lake". The others followed.<br />
<br />
When we all were gathered on the shore, we began our exploration of the stream canyon of Lost Hollow Cave.<br />
<br />
We scrambled over long blocks of slippery breakdown, under which the stream coursed. On that and other early visits, the lake and the stream were home to dozens of blind, white salamanders. Later they were not seen. That may be the result of pollution from camp litter nearby.<br />
<br />
At first, the black walled canyon like passage was barren of speleothems. Then, at a point several hundred feet downstream, rock terraces led up into spectacular formation galleries. I have only one photo of the cave. It is of a huge "elephant ear" or "bacon" curtain in the upper terraces, some 30 to 40 feet above the stream course, if my memory serves me.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZHsQdiMueqo2uo6ThR_HttbWoaQUsR5Y2Hlyd6y81zGNFsq7oBfDlTvN-ih3WIP2D-kjhz9GwLdVBeJ5G5J_dMr2p7xnJHrkFveTwHJtuHsZtNEiyKAMxBhGgpZjZiIkXP3zCWtGxs4/s640/OCECOLOR11%252520copy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwZHsQdiMueqo2uo6ThR_HttbWoaQUsR5Y2Hlyd6y81zGNFsq7oBfDlTvN-ih3WIP2D-kjhz9GwLdVBeJ5G5J_dMr2p7xnJHrkFveTwHJtuHsZtNEiyKAMxBhGgpZjZiIkXP3zCWtGxs4/s400/OCECOLOR11%252520copy.jpg" width="311" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenrick Day photo of the author at the Elephant Ear</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There were more glorious speleothems; glistening pagodas of calcite, sheets of flowstone and other curtain formations.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We had had great expectations for this cave. Unfortunately, they were not to be realized, for as the ceiling rose again to a great height, the rushing stream lazily swirled into an oval pool and vanished. The mysterious outlet of the pool seemed to be at the bottom, 13 feet below the surface. The dry passage ended in a very high wall seemingly closed with impenetrable sediments. Higher overhead, a crack in the ceiling could be dimly seen. To attempt to climb it would be a dauting experience</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Later, the entire cave was surveyed to a total length of around 2,200 feet. I don't know the depth, but a guess might be 180 feet; not much on the world scale, but nevertheless impressive for Arkansas. It was short, sweet and memorable.</div>
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<span style="color: purple;"><b>CAVERS!</b></span> If you have any photos or maps of Lost Hollow Cave, I would be pleased to post a select few here. Credits will be given, and no locations will be revealed.<br />
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Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-44278541231966997552010-08-17T02:36:00.000-07:002010-08-17T02:36:32.232-07:00Interlude: With a Little Help From My Friends 1I've entered a quiet period in my passion for writing my caving memoirs. I need to do some thinking about how to proceed along the best route ahead.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, with a little help from my friends, I can post some additional observations on past events. First up is this edited email from Rodney Tennyson, an old friend from back in the 70's.<br />
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<div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My involvement with Janus Pit Cave</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">by Rodney Tennyson</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I met Mike Warshauer about the same time that he became involved with the exploration of Janus; late '75, early '76. At that time we were both members of the School of the Ozarks Troglophiles; Mike, the seasoned explorer and writer, myself a teenager who, with some high school friends, had spent the past couple of years unraveling more than a mile of passage in Newton Co. Arkansas' Little Bear Cave. </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Together with the Trogs, I learned to rappel and climb rope, and we made a few cave trips together, including a trip to Stone</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Co. Arkansas to visit Ennis Cave and the amazing void of Flitterin Pit.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I recall clearly seeing 6 copperheads scattered around the other two guys that were already on the bottom of the pit! Considering it was Feb. in the Ozarks, the snakes were too cold to be of any threat, but them city boys from the college sure freaked the hell out! For some</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">reason, on this trip, I had offered to tote the 400 ft. rope down to the pit so we could rig two lines down it.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Of course, in his enthusiasm, Mike gave us a wide ranging tour of</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">the countryside viewing large sinks and other sundry karstic phenomenon, before reaching the pit.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My first trip to Janus proper was in 1978, to help survey downstream. Alexia Cochrane, RC Schroeder, Mike and I went downstream as far as the Pictograph Room, where I dug open a very tight connection to the Pantheon. I believe I was the only one small enough to crush</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">through the crawl. (<i>The Pictograph Room is an dry, upper level breakdown room just downstreamward from the Pantheon. We later enlarged the tight spot to where it was easy to pass. With that, a semi-loop route was opened but one seldom taken. A good reason was the Arrowhead Drive, a moderately long dry crawl strewn with broken chert blades</i>.-DC) </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I was very impressed by the size of the passages, but the clean washed strollway of Circe’s Canyon was my favorite; blue water and blue stone, a magical combination, interrupted at one point by an inpouring of boulders from the larger upper level, Damocles Squeeze, where I moved a big rock on the way out and made it much easier to negotiate.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">That day we surveyed the Pictograph Room and then a deep water passage segment under the Pantheon area, the Razor Bypass. That required floating in blue-deep water with just enough air space to keep one's head free. (<i>The Razor is the watery slot with limited airspace. The Bypass is the easy way around the normally unnecessary Razor</i>. -DC)</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">We extended the stream level survey all the way to Omega Lake, the terminal sump, one look convinced me it was surely the home of the 'sucking sump monster' and I declined the offer to pull tape across the pool. Rather, I climbed up a small dome just before the sump and explored a short series of muddy crawls on a level about 20 ft. above the stream passage, a faint breeze suckering us into hammering on a narrow crevice. But as it pinched even more conclusively just beyond, we surveyed that and headed out.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">I had borrowed [actually Mike insisted], a thick wetsuit top that had constricted me all day. Once free of the Baffle crawl, I romped on to the the base of the pit, but try as I might, I could not extract myself from that damned wetsuit jacket! So, not wanting to hold anyone up, I just climbed out, wearing it, by the time I struggled up the rope I</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">had sweated enough to lubricate the inside of the rubber top and with the aid of a tree limb, I was finally able to peel the portable sauna off my lathered body, whew...</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">My second dose of Janus caving came in 1980, when my high school caving buddy, Larry Flowers, Mike and I made a trip to the far upsteam end of the cave. A considerable trip, taking a couple of hours of steady travel to reach the final chamber where the cave intersects a major fault zone and the warped and shattered bedrock pinches the cave off. </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Larry and I dug into a very obnoxious lead, the mud so fluid you could crawl through it and it would flow back into the trough our bodies had created in their passing!</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> It ended, utterly. We looked carefully for signs of air movement but found none, so we left with little hope of extending the cave in that direction.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">(<i>Upstream Janus is so different from downstream as to feel like a different cave: muddy breakdown, slow moving water, dripstones and a fine dome, Vulcan Dome, which is a bit obscure to find and awkward to enter</i>.-DC)</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Since that time, I have made only a few trips to Janus. My wife Jeanna and I have made trips to both ends of the cave, savoring this fine cave, just between the two of us.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Our favorite of these excursions was a trip on the eve of our wedding</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">at the Janus Campground, down to Omega Lake, a very special place.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">—RT</div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-57306372486461131632010-08-05T02:37:00.000-07:002010-08-05T03:15:11.358-07:00Janus Pit, Part 4. Scooping<div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span> </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"You are at one end of a vast hall stretching forward out of sight to</span><br />
<div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the west. There are openings to either side. Nearby, a wide stone</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">staircase leads downward."</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">From </span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Adventure</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, the caving game, by Will Crowther and successors.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Janus Pit, Part 4</span></div></div></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Scooping</span></b></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">May 14, 1978 </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In our previous episode, 3 cavers, Larry Houston, R.C. Schroeder and myself were poised to make a lustful scooping trip into the newly discovered Odyssey Series of Janus. Robert Handford, who’d actually made the breakthrough the previous weekend, was in Austin, TX and could not join us. Our intentions were honorable, but our lust for virgin cave took over our feeble consciences and we were captives.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span><br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">With recent experience, we made short work of passing the Hassle and Baffle, curled our bodies over and around the Curling Iron, and soon stood in the Cyclops’ Cave. The gaping hole in the floor was alluring, but we had no equipment with which to drop into it.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We turned or attention to the even larger downstream section. At the time, I was in a mood for wetter, lower level passages. They are cooler and easier to walk through than large, dry, breakdown strewn upper rooms. Route findng tends to be easier.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The clean washed canyon zigged followed joints for a short distance beyond my previous stopping point. A mass of breakdown plugged the stream passage. Although it was possible to climb up into the upper level, we preferred to stay low.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">R.C. has a special talent for ferreting out the way on. He climbed 6 feet off the floor, traversed to the right across the plug, slid into a small hole and told us to follow.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The entire blockage was less than 10 feet through to the other side, where it gradually opened back into a walking stream passage.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I suggested we take a break, which we did, hoping to prolong the delicious anticipation of what we would find. We were babbling, in a virgin cave induced high.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">(Cave food note: at the time, I was using <a href="http://www.oregonphotos.com/Resources/GERRY-stove-tubes.jpg">polyethylene squeeze tubes</a> from </span><a href="http://www.oregonphotos.com/Gerry1.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Gerry Mountaineering</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. The flavor that day was strawberry jam and peanut butter.)</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ahead, the stream now cut down into shale beds, leaving picturesque black erosional sculptures. More ceiling height was gained, as we passed over small, orange colored travertine dams. Small cascades riffled down the travertine. Just for fun, we straddled over pools of increasing depth. We were already nearly totally wet, so a bit more wouldn’t have mattered.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Suddenly, with surgical swiftness, the stream entered a narrow crack to the left, with chest deep water. Gee. What a drag. No, it was the Razor. It was a viable but unnecessary route, for 6 feet above the floor to the right, an angling, clean-washed, scalloped tube borehole bypass awaited our first steps. The 7 foot high tube has a bedrock floor with a few puddles, remnant of higher waters. This is among my most favorite passages in Janus. Unfortunately, it’s only 187 feet long. But the brevity of the tube is compensated for just ahead.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">We maneuvered past a couple of smaller obstructing blocks over a crack down to the stream and emerged into a tall canyon, taller than any seen before in the cave. The ceiling was obscured in distant darkness. Some breakdown bridges spanned the lower to middle canyon, giving hope of reaching the uppermost back spaces above. </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But for now we continued at stream level. As we left the tall canyon, we were surprised to continue on hands and knees at stream level. What was this??? In about 60 feet, a small joint opened in the ceiling, giving us some easier passage. We could hold our heads up in the opening, shaped like a spade on a playing card, and zip right along for well over 100 feet. Sounds of our passage were picked up by the peculiar, echoing acoustics of the tube, echoing and roaring as we crouch walked along.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/49/Aceofspades.svg/200px-Aceofspades.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/4/49/Aceofspades.svg/200px-Aceofspades.svg.png" width="141" /></span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This passage, later named The Ace of Spades, made for a novel sound and light presentation. Suddenly, the long straightaway ended. But the fun passage continued with adequate walking height, first zigging left, then zagging abruptly right, with an angle approaching 180º. A small hole pierced the partition wall, just big enough to stick in a set of wiggling, ghostly fingers. </span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Fun in Caveland. What more could we ask for?</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">More cave, that's what we wanted. But even as the ceiling rose, our hopes soon sank as we came to a deep pool stretching some 15 or more feet ahead. Its depth was well over our heads, and above it further progress was blocked by a total collapse of breakdown. This was the "omega" of the Odyssey. The epic had reached a conclusion, at least for the present.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">But times and techniques change, and attitudes towards what was "impossible" become "feasible". We will delve into that subject in another chapter.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
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</span></div><div style="font: 19.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">That day in 1978, the scoopers were disappointed in finding the Omega Lake sump, but they still held a good card, back upstream, beyond the ZigZags.</span></div><div style="font: 19.0px Arial; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
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</span></div></span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">There was still the vast, black, overhead space we'd passed on our way to the sump. When we stood below the mighty blackness arching overhead, we abandoned all pretense of "saving some for Robert."</span></div><div><br />
R.C. quickly found an easily climbable route up among breakdown blocks. Now, some 15 to 20 feet above the canyon floor, a massive pillar could be dimly seen. A 15 foot barrier wall separated us from the actual base of the room.<br />
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But the gods were good to us! A keyhole arched through the barrier wall, giving easy access to the bottom of the steep slopes.<br />
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At last we could see the pillar. It almost divides the room equally in two. A couple of holes tunnel through its base. Sediment slopes went more than 50 feet higher, to where we could walk around the back of the pillar.<br />
This column is the greatest bedrock pillar we'd ever seen. Its presence is mystical. So they were named: Prometheus' Pillar; and the huge room, The Pantheon.<br />
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The space was several hundreds of feet long, with a ceiling height of over 100 feet at the start, over the canyon, 55 -60 feet at the Pillar, and gradually diminishing toward the back, as the sediment mounted higher.<br />
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The Pantheon and Prometheus' Pillar were the culmination of a fantastic day of <s>caving</s> scooping. It was also for me the culmination of big discoveries in Janus Pit. Yes; other connecting routes and a couple more upper rooms between the Cyclops' Cave and the Pantheon were found.<br />
In recent years, other modest discoveries have been made. A connection to Flitterin' Pit and eventually to Cave River Cave, the system's resurgence, eluded us. It continues to do so, despite some daring underwater probes from three access points.<br />
More on those, coming soon.<br />
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</div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-69338339648995533252010-08-03T03:12:00.000-07:002010-08-03T03:12:37.662-07:00Janus Pit Part 3: The Early History RetoldI have received extensive comments from Robert Handford and from Mike Hill. Mike was the first person to descend Janus Pit.<br />
Because of their significant role in the discovery and exploration of the cave and of Flitterin' Pit, I have given them their own collaborative space here. I have exercised the Editor's privilege where I felt it aided the flow of the story. —Don Cuevas, <i>aka </i>Mike Warshauer<br />
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Robert writes:<br />
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<div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">"Discovery of the Odyssey series in Janus Cave ranks up there at the top among the greatest of my caving adventures, only just below some significant discoveries I participated in during my early Blanchard days. I was living in Austin, TX at the time and had never met Michael before that weekend trip. I left Austin on Friday and drove all afternoon and into the night to Stone County. All that I knew was that somehow and somewhere near Janus, I needed to meet Mike at a specified hour on Saturday morning. I just pulled off the dusty road not far from the cave and slept in the back of my stationwagon. The next morning...there came Mike and others kicking up the dust in a pick-up truck and when they spotted an obvious caver, they hit the brakes and we met.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Michael is right that I had been to Janus before - in May, 1970, to be exact, with my old friend Mike Hill. Mike and I descended the pit and walked downstream to the "baffle" crawl. We probably went upstream a bit, too, but I don't recall how far.* On the same day, Mike Hill took me to Flitterin' Pit, which is one of the most impressive open air pits in Arkansas. It even reminds me of some TAG pits. So, years later when I hooked up with Michael Warshauer and arrived at Janus, I told him about my earlier descent of Janus and Flitterin', both of which (had been) nameless, I think.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">After entering Janus, Michael, Alexia and I went downstream to the crawl and I recall that Michael referred to it as the "ear washer". As Michael and Alexia probed the sump, I decided to poke around in the breakdown overhead. The resulting discovery was almost immediate and simple. The most difficult part was to curl the body to go over, down and back up a curious chock of rock in the breakdown that Michael named the "curling iron". Get the picture? The black void that I encountered just above the curling iron echoed with my screams. I hadn't seen virgin Arkansas cave in quite a few years, or at least a chamber with the "Blanchard-size" dimensions that I was staring at.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 600 mile distance from Austin to Janus plus family and job obligations prevented me from returning to area quickly enough to help with the exploration. So, I couldn't expect Michael to not return to Janus to continue the push into virgin cave. Of course, I was a bit sad but also realistic. Heck, I wouldn't have waited either for more than a week if I had been in the same position. I will never forget that my very first caving trip with Michael Warshauer was a most auspicious beginning to my return to Arkansas caving and the beginning of a wonderful friendship that has spanned 4 decades."</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Robert also wrote: </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">"Here's a comment passed on to me by Mike Hill, the first person to descend Janus."</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Mike Hill:</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">"My first trip (ca. 1970) was a run down there to recon the pits and to make sure my guides knew what they were talking about. I had made dry runs there before. I had no caving gear and had met the guys who were going with me at the local auto parts store. On the way out the door, I picked up a partial roll of 5/16 braided nylon and told the owner I'd pay him for it if I used it.</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">We arrived at what is now called Janus pit and I was somewhat disappointed, as I could see "bottom" about 40 feet below. There appeared to be a crevice at one side, so I thought I might as well check it out. I had three guys with me, all non-cavers, who agreed to pull me back up if went down. One of them handed me a long 6-cell flashlight on a strap and I unrolled the nylon rope and doubled it, tied it off on an old log and body rappelled to the "bottom". Once there, I tossed a rock into the dark hole behind me, but never heard it hit bottom. Not unusual, if a shaft is full of dead leaves. My gut told me to stay on line, but I didn't have enough line. I told the guys above to untie and give me some more rope. When it slacked, I rigged a makeshift seat sling and began to back down into the crevice. When my full weight was on the line, I swung out backwards and aimed the six-cell downward! I need not explain to veteran Janus Pit Cavers what my rear end was doing the next few seconds. I still cringe at the thought of hanging over that precipice on a glorified hay string!</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Trebuchet MS', sans-serif;">Lacking experienced caving buddies and proper vertical equipment, I returned later equipped with the old Blanchard hand winch and 300 feet of 3/8" steel cable on the drum. All went well on both drops, except in Flitterin I began to spin so wildly that I had to close my eyes to keep from getting motion sickness. I only knew I was on bottom when my knee brushed the big block of limestone in the middle of the room. All you experienced vertical guys can laugh at this but I did manage to scoop you on being first in! I returned later with Robert Handford in May, 1970. I believe, and you guys who did the grunt work can write the rest of the story</span>." </div><div><br />
</div><div>Don Cuevas writes: </div><div>You have to give credit to early explorers who usually lacked the sophisticated vertical and horizontal caving eqipment that we had later.</div><div>But in our own earlier exlplorations, even with the then state of the art ascenders, etc, we didn't really know how to use them effectively and efficiently.</div><div>So it was, after, a long, soaking wet and muddy trip upstream, I watched incredulously as Lon Odell took out two new Gibb's ascenders from their packaging, and starting tying on foot slings! It was a long, cold wait for the rest of us, even huddled out of the cold cave breeze in our plastic trashbags.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Names and Places</div><div>There were many names given to the features of Janus Pit, especially the rich array of odd names of the Baffle or Hassle breakdown and water crawl. The Baffle was named after legendary and quasi-mythical caver, Merle Baffle. The Hassle is self explanatory. The "Bathos", a seldom used and forgotten name, applies to the fissure sump below the "curling iron".</div><div><br />
</div><div><div>For me, naming rooms, passages and features according to a theme (usually one of Greek and Roman mythology), drove the dream and the spirit of exploration.</div></div><div><br />
</div><div>The "Curling Iron" is a name I forgot until Robert mentioned it. It's a rock obstacle, I guess. The Earwasher is almost a generic term for a low airspace in a water crawl. There was actually a "dry" bypass to the earwasher, but at times of normal water levels, it was easier to plunk an ear down and slide through. On one visit with higher water, I was insanely compelled to pass the earwasher, requiring a deep breath and an act of faith. As soon as I immersed, I had doubts. But the whole thing is maybe 2 feet long, and really not a big deal.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Several of the most onerous obstacles were obviated by discoveries of much easier routes. The main one was Rodney Tennyson's and others' discovery of Miriam's Bypass, where a short squeeze over a chocked rock (later hammered off) opened a hands and knees crawl, opening into the large, mud floored room below the Cyclop's Cave, and totally bypassed the worst (or best) impediments of the Hassle/Baffle.</div><div><br />
</div><div>*I recall the Joe Vandiver opened the upstream, January Avenue, about New Year's Day, 1976, by moving rocks out of the way in a short but contorted breakdown crawlway near the base of the pit.</div><div><br />
</div><div><i>We'll return to the later exploration in the next post.</i></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
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</div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-67672328134007279062010-08-01T05:21:00.000-07:002013-09-09T16:58:31.469-07:00Janus Pit, Part 2. Beyond the Hassle, the Baffle<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Janus Pit, Part 2</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><i>Earlier</i>...July, 1976</span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><i>About 200 feet into the Hassle, Joe pulled out a rock below water level revealing a miniscule crack, and we squirmed through into a 15 foot high fissure with solid walls and a ceiling comprised of huge, jammed boulders. To the left, the stream sank in a muddy sump.</i></span></span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><i>To the right, an easy climb went up into randomly chocked blocks. Joe squeezed up between them and said he could see a large black space...then...</i></span></span></div>
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"You are in a large room, with a passage to the south, a passage to the west, and a wall of broken rock to the east. There is a large "Y2" on a rock in the room's center.</div>
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You are in a jumble of rock, with cracks everywhere.</div>
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You're at a low window overlooking a huge pit, which extends up out of sight. A floor is indistinctly visible over 50 feet below."</div>
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(From the "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Colossal_Cave_Adventure"><span style="color: #0016e6; text-decoration: underline;">Adventure" caving game,</span></a> by Will Crowther.) <br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana; font-size: 18px;">May 6, 1978</span></blockquote>
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Beyond the Hassle awaited the Baffle. The Baffle is a mass of huge breakdown blocks chocked together over the sump room, and it seemed exceedingly hazardous to push on. But the black space seen by Joe Vandiver was calling us.</div>
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Since the earlier visits, I had corresponded with Robert C. Handford, who, as a high school student, had been one of the two young cavers directed by Hugh Shell and Hale Bryant to have a look up a long, steep slope in Half Mile Cave, which broke out into what is now called the Cathedral Room in Blanchard Springs Caverns. <a href="http://www.fs.fed.us/oonf/ozark/recreation/Images/giant_column.JPG"><span style="color: #0016e6; text-decoration: underline;">Photo</span></a>, Ozark National Forest.</div>
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It's every caver's dream to make a find of such magnitude and beauty, and we were no exception. It's such glory that drove us to return to the wet and rocky miseries of the Hassle water crawl and the breakdown hzards on May 6, 1978. </div>
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We were three: Alexia Cochrane, Robert Handford and I. We were part of a larger group of caver friends assembled to map and explore upstream, who were willing to wait for us while we made a "brief reconaissance".</div>
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At the bottom of the entrance pit, Robert realized that he'd been in the cave before, along with Mike Hill. (Referring to an article I wrote in the AACS AActivities, Vol. 3, No. 4, I see that Mike Hill had been first in the cave in March, 1970. He told Handford about it, and they returned together. Handford also had entered Flitterin' Pit but "didn't think twice about it." All of Janus known then was what we later called the December Passage.)</div>
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<i>One More Fool Notion</i></div>
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that I'd had was that Alexia could make a free dive "probe" into the sump at the left of the fissure. With a rope belayed about her waist and with mask on, she was able to get into the sump far enough that only her ankles wer still visible to me. But the silting made the attempt futile as well as foolish.</div>
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<i>The Odyssey: Hit or Myth?</i></div>
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As we coiled up the rope, I heard Robert Handford calling to us from the other end of the fissure room. "Tremendous! It's huge! You've got to see this."</div>
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We put the sump ducking gear down and climbed up into the breakdown. Where Joe Vandiver had tried to continue upward, we instead followed Handford's Baffling path <i>under</i> the blocks, slithering through a half-tube over a narrow crack in the floor, looking down into the fissure room we'd just left. Then, a couple of upward thrutches past truck sized blocks, and we stood in a vast gallery extending in both directions.</div>
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The floor was dry breakdown, the ceiling more than 60 feet overhead. In the "upstream" direction the passage diminished a bit in height, but there was a gaping hole in the left wall dropping an estimated 40 feet to a large room or passage. Beyond, the now dryer gallery sloped up into a gypsum flecked extension.</div>
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But, I am getting ahead of what really happened. We were <span style="color: red;"><i>supercharged</i></span> with excitement.</div>
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Robert precipitously went downslope in the "downstream" direction to where the new room or passage, the "Cyclops' Cave" became even larger, perhaps 100 feet high and hard to say how wide. The stream reappeared out of the breakdown and channels unknown, then incised a canyon in the floor of the massive, ample breakdown caverns above. The cross section vaguely resembled a "T" or a mushroom.</div>
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Still dressed in our wetsuit halves, we sweltered up into three or more wide breakdown rooms, or might they be defined as one huge gallery but with varying sizes. Who knew, or who cared? It was overwhelming. Our guesses were that they were over 150 feet wide. The ceiling height varied according to the slope of the breakdown floor, 5 to 50 or more feet.</div>
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I chimneyed into the scallop walled stream canyon for a moment or two, hoping to cool down. It went on in walking height, the clear water riffling around the angular turnings between walls a few feet apart, but our time had run out.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brent Wilkins in Circe's Canyon. B. Stickney photo</td></tr>
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We retraced the trail of our scoop back to our breakout point. I'd prudently marked the crack out of the Baffle with tape. It would have been easy to not to find the one crack among many.</div>
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(I see in my AACS AActivites article that we shared a can of Mexican condensed milk. <a href="http://mybrands.com/images/products/large/109_1966500059.JPG"><span style="color: #0016e6; text-decoration: underline;">La Lechera</span></a>. Alexia must have brought it, for at that time, I'd never been to Mexico.)</div>
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Robert was bestowed the honor of naming the discovery. In keeping with his return to Janus Pit after an eight year absence, and the scope of the find, he chose "The Odyssey Series".</div>
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Our patient, quietly suffering friends were enthralled with our story, but after a three hour wait, were not yet interested in visiting it.</div>
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Totally buzzed, we went with them to the January Avenue to do some mapping! My notes say that Alan Emmendorfer freeclimbed some 25 feet up in the Atlas Dome, first climbed by Robert Taylor. A rope was tied off for future visits. (The area ends in high, chimneyable parallel fissures.)</div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Scooped!</span></div>
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Both Robert and I were pumped and barely able to contain our enthusiasm. He was back in the Dallas area, and I did a terrible thing. I led a scoop trip in which he could not participate. I hope he has forgiven me. It was cave mania to blame, and it infected all of us.</div>
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Meanwhile, Alexia returned with R.C. Schroeder on May 13 and mapped the Hassle through to the Odyssey on a night trip. (It's always night underground.) Kudos to them for this great effort! The crawl was mapped at over 300 feet in length. (But as these things go, I don't think any of us ever saw a finished map. Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea máxima culpa. We all have sinned.) </div>
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I succumbed to the Sin of Pride and planned a trip into the Odyssey with various Memphis area cavers on May 14, 1978. But complications arose, and in the end, only three of us went in. Larry Houston, R.C. and I. Our hopes were high for big cave beyond and were exceeded beyond our wildest imaginings.</div>
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<i>More coming, when I can manage it. </i></div>
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<ul>
<li>In our next episode:</li>
<li>Circe's Canyon without benefit of <i>moly</i></li>
<li>Fast, fast, fast relief to obstruction</li>
<li>Bypass surgery</li>
<li>A Pantheistic revelation</li>
<li>Aceing the test</li>
<li>Taking off every Zig for great Justice</li>
<li>All your base level are belong to us.</li>
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What do the last two have to do with the subject? Nothing. I like the phrases. <br />
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<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: red;">WANTED: photos of the Odyssey Series, and permission to use them; especially of the larger rooms and of the Pantheon. Leave a registered comment, and I'll email you back. A map??</span></i><br />
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</span></span>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-81445454428848275462010-07-27T01:11:00.000-07:002011-01-24T04:29:41.430-08:00Interlude: Tenting Tonight On The Old Camp Ground<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When we began seriously exploring the Stone County and environs cave areas, we were living in Springfield, MO. At the time, it was a 4 hour drive away. When we could, we'd camp out somewhere near the cave.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For Ennis Cave, the obvious first choice was in the flat bottomed valley near the entrance. That place would give me the creeps, however, due to my recent exposure to the movie, "Deliverance". (Link to obnoxious Duelin' Banjos Video Deleted.) There were whippoorwills there, as everywhere, giving their ghostly cries. Down on the White River bottom, not far away, the night freight trains added a mournful whistle.</span><br />
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<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Late one night, early in our experiences there, our sleep was disturbed by carlights, and loud shouts in an exaggerated Ozark accent, "Lookee here boys! Spee-lunkers!". To the </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">relief of</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> our nerves, it turned out to be Hail Bryant, oldtime Batesville, AR caver and friends, out on a lark. Hail was a leader, with Hugh Shell, in the exploration of Half Mile Cave, later developed as Blanchard Springs Caverns. We would eventually get to know one of his protegés, Robert C. Handford.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The then undeveloped Ennis Cave campground was easy to get to, but it was also unbelievably cold in winter. On a trip with Bob Taylor, we shivered and froze for several hours in our non-Arctic sleeping bags, then finally threw in the towel and retreated to Mountain View. There we got a room at the old and unimproved Mountain View Motel for $25 a night. The room featured a noisy heating unit that disturbed sleep. The room was either freezing or sweltering.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, staying in town opened another cafe breakfast opportunity at the Ozark or more likely, the hideous old, cigarette smoke saturated Rainbow Cafe. The food there epitomized the lowest denominator of greasy, bad Ozark cooking. (Years later, after several changes of ownership and renovation, it was greatly improved, although still "Ozark Cooking". It may not have ever been a culinary mecca, but it was hot, plentiful and cheap.)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My wife has reminded me also of the old Junction Cafe, where you could get a plate of eggs and meat even more cheaply, but you'd use several paper napkins first to blot up the grease on the plate.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The really odd behavior was to camp near the cave for the convenience and economy, then drive to town for breakfast. Go figure.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For the Janus explorations, we camped in a cleared powerline right of way not far away. Jokes were made about the radiation from the humming powerlines overhead, suggesting the risible "Powerline Lineament Theory of Cavern Development", which postulated that caves in the immediate area seemed to follow a pattern closely aligned with the path of the powerline. (If I could let you see the topo map with caves on it, you'd see that it's true!)</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">BUZZ! Photo by Don Cuevas</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We slept in an </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://i430.photobucket.com/albums/qq21/seavandal/jchigginstent001.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">umbrella tent</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">, purchased at Sears, in non-Arctic sleeping bags, with deer and other wildlife patterns in the lining. At first we had blow up air mattresses later replaced by roll up foam pads, which were not really an improvement in terms of comfort when trying to sleep on the coarse, chunks of chert that make up much of the surface in the Ozarks. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div><a href="http://www.dartmouth.edu/~chance/chance_news/for_chance_news/ChanceNews12.07/chilli.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.dartmouth.edu/~chance/chance_news/for_chance_news/ChanceNews12.07/chilli.gif" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">For camp breakfasts, we relied heavily but not exclusively on ready to heat and serve <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ2BIMbmZCVjQ1G7HAcWCWdhVRuiKzzimtfWfZOJ_XFNh4-qgB2IFZPjhR85b41sLjRKj78JBc2Kt9P6UEMUYMPfkiOg_YnM8SE9QgydyCF-gr_v5e7uHpC04e0i629qn3PUDCGJknmIxO/s1600/IMG_8375.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Campbell's Chunky Soups</span></a>, which then were reasonably priced and quite tasty. The occcasional, almost totally useless exertion of in cave camping was not only a waste of energy, but the food ran to such stuff as unheated canned chili. One must ask, "Why?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Years later, the end to our camping, whether for caving, or for "just plain fun" came to a sudden end when I realized that I really didn't enjoy it anymore. It was inconvenient, uncomfortable and subject to extremes of weather. Before long, I'd sold all my camping equipment except for the sleeping bags and camp mats. The latter were later useful in the freezing mountain temperatures in our thin walled cabin first home, high above Pátzcuaro, México. The end of camping was an omen of the impending end of caving. Later, I'll discuss how that came to happen.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I became a connoisseur of better hotels, each generation increasing in quality and price. The following article describes favorite hotels in Mexico. (Because we can barely afford hotels in the U.S.) This reference is included only for those curious to understand how our life style has changed. </span><a href="http://cocinamexicana.blogspot.com/2009/10/don-cuevas-top-5-hotel-picks.html">Don Cuevas' Top 5 Hotel Picks</a> (Mexico)<br />
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<i>We will return to our regular, cave exploration programming in our next episode.</i></div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-25923574531721207062010-07-24T04:47:00.000-07:002012-07-18T13:46:40.750-07:00Two Faces. One Cave: Janus Pit. Part 1<div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">
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“<i>You are standing at the end of a road before a small brick building. </i></div>
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<i>Around you is a forest. A small stream flows out of the building and </i></div>
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<i>down a gully</i>.”— From the early computer game, Adventure, by Will Crowther and successors.</div>
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<i>Thanksgiving Holiday, 1974</i></div>
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You are standing on a hillside in Stone County, Arkansas. Around you is a forest. A small, wet weather streambed goes down hill to end in a dark, vertical shaft.<br />
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A rope tied to a tree overhanging the shaft twists downward into darkness. A cold draft blows down the pit on this cold, drippy, late November afternoon. Where is Lon Odell? He’s been down the pit at least 45 minutes since he’d bottomed it, then barely in earshot. We had to tie on a longer rope so that he could complete the final 60 feet pitch. When he stepped off the ledge, the elastic rope gave way under his weight and he yelped as he bounced, like a startled yo yo. </div>
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My patience finally ran out and I was consumed by curiosity. I nervously put on my homemade nylon seat harness and clipped in my rappel rack. I’d done some vertical drops before, but never into any as deep as this pit.</div>
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After a short step of only 9 feet, the shaft twisted, then plunged into 140 feet of blackness, although at the time, we were unaware of its depth. It continued downward, now larger in diameter. I passed Lon’s step off ledge. Suddenly, the leaf strewn, gravelled bottom came into sight, and my feet touched ground. </div>
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As I got out of my rappel gear, Lon came running over toward me like a madman. </div>
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“It’s huge and it goes!” he exclaimed. He was nice enough to show me the broad, 15 foot high downstream passage he’d explored. After a few hundred feet, we had to crawl over fallen slabs of ceiling, then slide down a breakdown slab into an major turn of the trunk passage, where it became even larger. Later, this room took the name "The Arena".<br />
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A small stream could be heard and occasionally glimpsed in low crawl spaces under the walls. We passed through another short crawlway on our hands and knees, then slid down into an extension of the passage some 100 feet or more long and 30 feet or more high. The stream emerged from the right wall, crossed the room, and slid into the breakdown blocking the room to the left. Above, the massive slope of breakdown rock ascended into friable shale beds.</div>
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We went up the slope and Lon tried to work his way in, but it was extremely unstable. This was not a viable route.</div>
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The stream went on to somewhere, but could we follow? The partial answer to that would wait two years and the final answer yet another two.<br />
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Where rappelling in had been exciting fun, ascending 150 feet of rope on primitive and unrefined gear was a major effort. We eventually were motivated to upgrade our vertical equipment, but not before some almost humorous incidents.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwpDqYEc7qwf30rhTu5ilZJm4GiPDiDDkTnmHyg1GQZZ3TVzWXzmvvlC96Lg0dfkeICrKXz0iYtCFtx55QN-g' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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Video—Brent Wilkins</div>
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<i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Single_Rope_Technique"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">History of Single Rope Technique</span></a>.</i><br />
<blockquote>
<br />
The Flitterin' Pit</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TEgY6gRTQxI/AAAAAAAAiXI/KtyL9GIj4T4/s1600/3054981094_9d77892f8c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TEgY6gRTQxI/AAAAAAAAiXI/KtyL9GIj4T4/s320/3054981094_9d77892f8c.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flitterin' Pit—Jeff Bartlett</td></tr>
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<i></i></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TErT6lh2teI/AAAAAAAAid0/tzNcljHoums/flitterin_lounsbury%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TErT6lh2teI/AAAAAAAAid0/tzNcljHoums/flitterin_lounsbury%201.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flitterin' Pit—Tom Lounsbury</td></tr>
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<br />
<i>We'd learned through Dr. Carroll Smith, faculty advisor to the Harding College cavers that there was another, even larger pit nearby. With the help of our local friend Albert Fulks, we went down the ravine on the south side of the ridge. There we found a gaping hole, divided near the top by a narrow natural bridge. The pit dropped 145 feet, and although it was much more voluminous than Janus Pit, we could find no ongoing passages at the bottom. There was a stream coming out of the east corner, flowing along the north wall, and disappearing into a sump in the eastern wall. The downstream sump later was the scene of elaborate activity as our caving friends supported several Southeastern cave divers, but no extensions were found. The upstream sump remains unchecked.</i><br />
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<blockquote>
Cave River Cave</blockquote>
<blockquote>
<i>Where does all this water flow? It emerges at Cave River Cave, several thousand feet down the hollow. We demonstrated this in February 1975 by a fluorescein dye test, having left dye traps in both Flitterin' Pit and CRC. CRC is a beautiful stream resurgence at the base of a cliff. It was possible to enter, past a noisy colony of bats, wading, floating and swimming in inner tubes and wetsuits, to a sump room. There the water is over 15 feet deep, and the sump continues. Cave diving efforts in July, 1978 by Don Monnot and Ed Arters were successful in breaking through to extensive "dry cave" passages (air filled spaces) but no connections were made to the other caves.</i></blockquote>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TEsYch9duMI/AAAAAAAAif0/fGadb6HyJs0/s1600/cave%20river%20ent.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TEsYch9duMI/AAAAAAAAif0/fGadb6HyJs0/s400/cave%20river%20ent.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cave River Cave. Where the water emerges.<br />
Rodney Tennson photo.</td></tr>
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<i>New Years Holiday, 1974-75</i></div>
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A large turnout of School of the Ozarks Troglophiles Club and friends descended the pit on New Year’s Day. Even before I touched bottom, the wiry Joe Vandiver had squirmed into breakdown just off the base of the pit and found an extension, It would be later named January Avenue and the dryer, more pleasant passage found by Lon would become December Avenue. </div>
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January Avenue extended a couple of thousand feet to the northeast, muddy, wet and breakdown strewn. A subsequent visit by Lon, his son Loren and Annado Kramer, Doña Cuevas and I extended it as a wretched canal of armpit deep water, ending in a high ceilinged room eventually choked with gravel and breakdown. The downstream enigma remained.<br />
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I gave the cave the name “Janus Pit”, after the Roman god of beginnings and the new year, whose two faces looked back into the old year and ahead into the new. I attached much <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVDGJ0zpQCnTifYveq_RFJ1F_61hmhbx_fbevEfUsMEbxlaFrIZfKL_p2C8570xrbMHHMOSD3ZSpDiuNwmb9IF3C-MCfwAKkrEBv901O60gUvylsLchRHOxk8KruAhhCAzKHR9Egs0w4E/s300/janus_bw_sm.jpg">mystical import</a> to this as way to enhance the exploration experience. I was obsessed with the cave and its potential for extension.</div>
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<i>July, 1976.</i></div>
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During a winter camp-in trip with Bob Taylor who’d begun mapping the cave, I’d poked into the breakdown at the lower end of the December passage, where the stream disappeared. By removing numerous smaller rocks from beneath massve ones above, I’d been able to advance through exceedingly awkward, barely contiguous spaces to some fairly solid stream crawl, maybe 150 feet downstream. The promise was there although the way was difficult. I stopped at a small enlargement of the crawlway at a "beach". I named the crawlway the "Hassle".</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63paamezYVYe9OpoLCdRBg-BWxW3JWgoJwqFIoqMTmixxAf01pYD2pakukaHgsVyfKhGT8aDOjL84InTyjyHr2_jNjkgpFuLqcAU6Tk-AXLXxOtzp-i2wgReXcTV1WpP8Jk_148PeoQ4/s1600/IMGP0050-1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj63paamezYVYe9OpoLCdRBg-BWxW3JWgoJwqFIoqMTmixxAf01pYD2pakukaHgsVyfKhGT8aDOjL84InTyjyHr2_jNjkgpFuLqcAU6Tk-AXLXxOtzp-i2wgReXcTV1WpP8Jk_148PeoQ4/s320/IMGP0050-1.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brent entering Janus' Hassle</td></tr>
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On an April trip, in which I did not enter the cave, Odell and Kramer were down cave when a heavy rain hit the area. The gully into the cave was flowing water in generous quantities. The cavers decided to ascend the pit. Lon's sit-stand rig allowed mch of the water to pass harmlessly between his legs, but Annando climbed out in the full brunt of the falling water. He was a stubborn and tough old caver, veteran of several Carroll Cave, MO camping expeditions, and made it out intact. However, he told me he'd never go in again.</div>
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At that time, we didn't haul our gear up with us as we climbed, but instead, pulled it up afterward. This was an error, given the twisting layout of the pits, as well as the added weight from the water. It was learning the hard way.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ktuawP9eYUs4l8xFMOnPufVpOJBjaz0nvsnBBsiKxlfwIrbSqdQPxRUSfeSmx5V2bHvnTGzL-jxw9mZWUuehTUPEHzPb2WTECa25wHK_e0p53OokHilMK-IYDDOIb-4N0JVAW97qtwc/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9ktuawP9eYUs4l8xFMOnPufVpOJBjaz0nvsnBBsiKxlfwIrbSqdQPxRUSfeSmx5V2bHvnTGzL-jxw9mZWUuehTUPEHzPb2WTECa25wHK_e0p53OokHilMK-IYDDOIb-4N0JVAW97qtwc/" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A well dressed vertical caver-Photo, Jeff Bartlett</td></tr>
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In July, '76, we had an infusion of high energy of Lou Simpson and Barb Schaefer (later Simpson), from Ohio; notable hard cave pushers but with a sensible aversion to floodable low level passages. Their energy would not be applied to low level, floodable crawlways. Also joining us was Joe Vandiver, a hard core caver from St. Joe, Arkansas.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TEgY6pcKBjI/AAAAAAAAiXI/vtw8JkADvEA/s1600/janusbaffle-full.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/TEgY6pcKBjI/AAAAAAAAiXI/vtw8JkADvEA/s320/janusbaffle-full.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Brent farther into Janus' Hassle</td></tr>
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After doing some basic mapping upstream and beating our way through an awkward slot into a large domepit, the Ohioans left while Joe and I pushed the Hassle through contorted constrictions, often with little airspace. Sometimes it was passage creation based on a dream of more caves beyond.<br />
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About 200 feet into the Hassle, about 50 feet beyond my "beach" Joe pulled out a rock below water level revealing a miniscule crack, and we squirmed through into a 15 foot high fissure with solid walls and a ceiling comprised of huge, jammed boulders. To the left, the stream sank in a muddy sump.</div>
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To the right, an easy climb went up into randomly chocked blocks. Joe squeezed up between them and said he could see a large black space, but he feared that moving upward might cause them to shift. We had reached our limit of risk taking, then retreated up the crawl, pushing our packs against the unusually strong currents.</div>
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We had learned that waiting time to climb out could be long and cold, and I'd gotten into the habit of putting on a heavy duty trash bag with holes for head and arms, plus a wool cap. Once on rope, the ascent was a warming exercise. Our vertical technique was incrementally improving, but the climb out was rarely easy for me.<br />
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We now knew that big cave might lay above and beyond, but we didn’t know how we could safely enter it. We had to wait two years to find out.</div>
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<i>end of part 1</i></div>
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<i><i>CAVERS! If you have any photos of the larger rooms and/or passages in Janus; or any pictures of Cave River Cave that you'd be willing to share, please leave a non-anonymous comment and I'll get back to you.</i></i></div>
</div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-83091961346643403992010-07-20T02:53:00.000-07:002011-01-24T04:25:34.478-08:00What the well dressed caver wore and bore<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">I want to pause here and discuss the basic non-vertical caving equipment of that era. The only caving equipment supplier we had was mail order from </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;"><a href="http://www.4bobandbob.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Bob & Bob</span></a></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">. The rest we scrounged together on our own from Army surplus stores and outdoors and climbers' supply shops.</span><br />
<div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: medium;"><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">Here's how it went even before <i>then</i>:</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">You are inside a building, a well house for a large spring.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/SMfKCtr0toI/AAAAAAAAHdM/0tc1kOdMhn0/s1600/IMG_0540.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_Dp8GJpYQxRg/SMfKCtr0toI/AAAAAAAAHdM/0tc1kOdMhn0/s320/IMG_0540.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Secret entrance to the vast cave near my home.</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">There are some keys on the ground here.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-I7rbWsmFMzTndfhMjWlf6-t8oxbrXKpiaDMY4ZBvR4jHTFc-Ar7-0TtWPcHflK6mGyyfXtJ8uxa8seRVPikfrGxyyxDUFRIHImtOaY2-udkiTfSg2xIbvhLpIwRLtSoxtQbKcZ6YNuM/" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-I7rbWsmFMzTndfhMjWlf6-t8oxbrXKpiaDMY4ZBvR4jHTFc-Ar7-0TtWPcHflK6mGyyfXtJ8uxa8seRVPikfrGxyyxDUFRIHImtOaY2-udkiTfSg2xIbvhLpIwRLtSoxtQbKcZ6YNuM/" width="152" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">There is a shiny brass lamp nearby.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a5/Carbide_lamp_lit.jpg/543px-Carbide_lamp_lit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/a/a5/Carbide_lamp_lit.jpg/543px-Carbide_lamp_lit.jpg" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">From WikiMedia Commons</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">There is food here.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://tangelos.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/vienna-sausage-in-can.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://tangelos.files.wordpress.com/2009/04/vienna-sausage-in-can.jpg" /></a></div><br />
</div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; text-align: center;"></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">(<a href="http://oswaldadventures.files.wordpress.com/2008/12/gorp.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">Gorp</span></a> was popular, and hideous energy bars of compressed, sweetened bat guano. Actually, ground up dried fruit and nuts with chocolate.)</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">There is a <a href="http://www.goodhousekeeping.com/cm/goodhousekeeping/images/pp/water-bottle-fb.jpg"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">bottle of water</span></a> here. </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">(But we had nothing quite that advanced. We favored plastic baby bottles with the nipple inverted as a seal. Read what you like into this.) </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Take lamp</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">OK </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Take food</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">OK Tasty food</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Take water</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">OK </div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Take keys</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">OK</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><i>From Adventure, a caving fantasy computer game of the 70s.</i></div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">Our basic caving clothing consisted of stuff similar to the following:</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Levis pants, Army fatigue shirt OR coveralls. Coveralls were too hot for me in dry passages and were difficult in tight crawlways because they were hard to remove. Wet suits were uncommon. We just got wet and cold. One old friend, a veteran Arkansas caver owned a dry suit, which was complicated to put on, but worse, caused severe sweating in dry passages.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Two pairs of thick hiking socks, boots with lug soles (Vietnam Jungle Boots were top of the line), long underwear plus reguar underwear.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Rubber dotted hardware gloves.<br />
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</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Kneepads. (Optional. I can't believe how long we went caving without wearing these knee savers.)</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKvqHfM9XVA9k5gGlyuSFW_dDll1AO-uJHIKDWAFviZjGcQ592yZCHHjcilnW1prPjHaYiIbzUdCvUYd-NusFywHFOcDmyero9MPQqlHStpylIPrV6TKxPTIdLFDTLyVonyHvIggPGm0Y/s1600/burton-red-basic-knee-pad-09-10-black-7651-p.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKvqHfM9XVA9k5gGlyuSFW_dDll1AO-uJHIKDWAFviZjGcQ592yZCHHjcilnW1prPjHaYiIbzUdCvUYd-NusFywHFOcDmyero9MPQqlHStpylIPrV6TKxPTIdLFDTLyVonyHvIggPGm0Y/s200/burton-red-basic-knee-pad-09-10-black-7651-p.gif" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Modern Cavers' kneepads</td></tr>
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</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Don't forget a "<a href="http://www.utexas.edu/tmm/sponsored_sites/tss/Photos/TSSOffice/images/HPIM2418a.JPG"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: orange;">hard hat</span></a>" to protect your head from bumps and scrapes, and to hold your lamp hands free.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> A pack made from an <a href="https://www.mainemilitary.com/productcart/pc/catalog/usmaskbag.jpg"><span style="color: #0016e6;">Army surplus gas mask bag</span></a> carried most of what was needed for a short caving trip. "Pigs" made from two 1 gallon Clorox bottles fastened with bungee cords were under development by cavers in southern Kentucky and northern Tennessee. These held a lot and were excellent for sliding through crawlspaces but less handy on vertical climbs.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">Lamps: carbide cap lamps, fueled with lumps of calcium carbide and dripping water in the upper compartment. Sort of the <a href="http://www.homecoffeemakers.org/images/bialetti-coffee-maker.jpg"><span style="color: #0016e6;">Bialetti coffee maker</span></a> of mine and cave lighting. Electric miner's lamps were less common in U.S. caving than in Europe and Britain. A doubled plastic bread loaf bag for carrying the spent carbide out of the cave.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"> A toothbrush or a smoker's pipe tool was useful for cleaning the gunk out of the lamp bottom.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">A bandana or a small towel was useful for wiping glasses clean or sweat from the brow.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;">This is enough for now. I'm certain that many items could be added but remember: the more you carry the heavier it is, especially on the way out, when waterlogged and covered with mud.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">I will undoubtedly be getting comments from cavers as to what they carried and ate.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">Picture of a <a href="http://www.utexas.edu/tmm/sponsored_sites/biospeleology/activities/propercaver2.jpg">Modern Caver</a>. Picture of an <a href="http://willerup.com/caving/img/caver1.jpg">Advanced Modern Caver</a>.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">I will end with this story of sharing caving food while in a difficult environment. About 6 of us visited Rowland Cave "<i>a las escondidas</i>", as we Mexpats say. The main passage of the cave is very wet and muddy. Miles back, at our turnaround point, we stopped to eat our food. Tasty food.</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;"><br />
</div><div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 22.0px;">There were among us a can of sardines in mustard sauce, a can of the nearly ubiquitous Vienna Sausages, a can of sliced peaches, a can of condensed milk. I created a special feast for us by putting some of the mustard sauce on the pink links of sausage; then some of the condensed milk went on the peaches. Shared meals like that built camaraderie and made great memories.</div></span></div></div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-67918707455646003972010-07-18T04:34:00.000-07:002012-03-25T16:05:18.553-07:00El Pozole de Cuetzalan Is Not A CaveThis has nothing at all to do with caving in Arkansas, but my food and restaurant blog, <a href="http://mexkitchen.blogspot.com/">My Mexican Kitchen</a>, now has a post entitled <a href="http://mexkitchen.blogspot.com/2010/07/our-first-time.html"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: blue;">Our First Time..</span>.</a>. in Mexico.<br />
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It's about our 1980 trip, the two of us and Alexia Cochrane, jammed into a Datsun King Cab pickup and sought caving adventures. We had plenty of those in a short time. But it was also when Doña Cuevas and I got our first taste of real Mexican food.</div>
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So, there's brief caving descriptions, "cultural" notes, and short food notes. You are invited to taste a sample.</div>
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Saludos,</div>
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Don Cuevas</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZE7o9l4jpkUkDIU-BUQoKRONu52pXNRVkwL03Xiub2Hc0o2dO_sCq1iMd4xZaSsH15XnJSz626gcAXHioD-2MZXbsqY3RD7xD9Tc7eDAZiSU2annD43tYNgXtXVxBPR6y6SFhwyPtSto/s1600/pozole-blanco.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZE7o9l4jpkUkDIU-BUQoKRONu52pXNRVkwL03Xiub2Hc0o2dO_sCq1iMd4xZaSsH15XnJSz626gcAXHioD-2MZXbsqY3RD7xD9Tc7eDAZiSU2annD43tYNgXtXVxBPR6y6SFhwyPtSto/s320/pozole-blanco.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pozole Blanco</td></tr>
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</div>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-31082678469910600002010-07-14T04:43:00.001-07:002010-07-21T02:43:28.961-07:00In a cavern, in a valley, excavating for a mine<div style="font: 18.0px Verdana; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><div style="text-align: left;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjueGXFAXhSQa5ba9JLi5ysaBKPE4JO7jcC3l9K5oJqkcQoiiw6Bq2AIIlFsU0atAYXzYZAPo0QjkYHjzAgcsxzPwBj31IgIkxtLhyphenhyphenvEMpK9v6jYNvFG2wC-RDqrel2Cb5h_QDIsDWYr94/s1600/Alienart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjueGXFAXhSQa5ba9JLi5ysaBKPE4JO7jcC3l9K5oJqkcQoiiw6Bq2AIIlFsU0atAYXzYZAPo0QjkYHjzAgcsxzPwBj31IgIkxtLhyphenhyphenvEMpK9v6jYNvFG2wC-RDqrel2Cb5h_QDIsDWYr94/s400/Alienart.jpg" width="277" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Alien formation. Courtesy of Teddy Marsdan</td></tr>
</tbody></table>“You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.<br />
<div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Dead end</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"></span>You are in a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Dead end”...<br />
From the early computer game, <i>Adventure</i>, by Will Crowther and successors.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">Ennis Cave, Stone County, Arkansas.</span></span></div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">In July, 1966, I had the pleasure of participating in an extended trip south from Columbia, Missouri, through the Current River area of the state and an incursion to the fabled Ennis Cave. We were led by our amiable friend, Earl Neller.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
<a name='more'></a></div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Ennis Cave was first announced to cavers in an issue of the MMV Underground in the arly 60s. Its <a href="http://enniscave.net/history_doc.htm">history</a> is long and interesting. There was then only a crude map, but the description caught my imagination, and a spectacular slide show at an MMV meeting was the clincher. There were broad tunnels with remnants of manganese miners’s carts and tracks and a Maze, plus a large Breakdown Room. The cave climaxed in a spectacular Waterfall Room. For the daring, a descent of one precipice and a climb back up the other side revealed a Crystal Room.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Arriving at the cave entrance was in itself an adventure. When we crossed the Arkansas line, we were leaving “First World” Missouri and entering what was then “Second World” Arkansas. This was noticeable in the generally poor infrastructure of roads and often nonexstent bridges. There were simple, cable drawn, current driven ferries, as at the Norfork and White Rivers. We arrived in Mountain Home and sampled the local cuisine at The Angler’s Cafe. Then we pressed on to the ferry crossing of the White River at Calico Rock. The ferry was cable drawn and the gunwales were barely above water level. </div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Once on the other side, the pavement ran out as we entered the Sylamore National Forest, which surrounded the mysterious and intriguing Half Mile Cave. The fact that access was very limited added to its allure. (It was later developed as Blanchard Springs Caverns). We motored 17 miles through the forest, emerging onto pavement at Sylamore. There was another ferry there, back across to Izard County on the east side, but we wound on up Arkansas Highway 5 to Mountain View. (Years later, it would become our home for over 16 years.)</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"></div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">This small town had not yet attained its fame as a folk music capital. The Main Street was not paved. and I seem to remember wooden sidewalks, but that could be a delusion of faulty memory. There were a few, primitive eating places. Years later, there would be more, but the generally dire quality of food wouldn’t change much.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">We continued on eastward, nearly to the county line, where we turned off onto an unpaved road through what could be called “Deliverance Country”. After several dusty miles, the road descends to the White River flood plain. Tall, impressive bluffs mark the opposite Independence County shore.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The cave entrance is located in a dreary, shallow valley on a wooded lane. It has always struck me as a particularly odd location for a cave entrance.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFrQ_VWSwshp5Ue-4Dgy2Hg93wlMAv-83CHPCjhWbdd-7at1MhXXWTa9FSOa2vDejZKgWNdLIlJeGEqS1SIhl8bCOhfYl8RC8Lir8l3LDbxDavPkwhxU6wLgNRgNwCjO-ylBzPUASEl7k/s1600/Ennis+Cave+ent-Mike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFrQ_VWSwshp5Ue-4Dgy2Hg93wlMAv-83CHPCjhWbdd-7at1MhXXWTa9FSOa2vDejZKgWNdLIlJeGEqS1SIhl8bCOhfYl8RC8Lir8l3LDbxDavPkwhxU6wLgNRgNwCjO-ylBzPUASEl7k/s400/Ennis+Cave+ent-Mike.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo by Earl Neller</td></tr>
</tbody></table>The sinkhole showed obvious mining activity. A huge, rotting log hung down over the shaft. At the bottom of the slope, about 50 feet below, the sinkhole funneled to a constriction where debris had made a cone. We descended on a handline to that point, then chimneyed down a few feet to a tight crawl skirting the debris cone. At that time it was possible to crawl around the back side of the cone and emerge in the mined section of walkable passages.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATZFXQoZ5K0DKzCZ6NEDHNo-RHS_F1uVUhXb_PDxiD8s-ja0bjXkMnu4WvjoDOI5dqaC3rLFooDwXuFYpMeaOrEDkC67cZ6fXH68gtuCMaNWg4Z35jPvOqtzMk__KPFv97iFup0dF9w8/s912/DSCN1606bbw.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjATZFXQoZ5K0DKzCZ6NEDHNo-RHS_F1uVUhXb_PDxiD8s-ja0bjXkMnu4WvjoDOI5dqaC3rLFooDwXuFYpMeaOrEDkC67cZ6fXH68gtuCMaNWg4Z35jPvOqtzMk__KPFv97iFup0dF9w8/s400/DSCN1606bbw.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Once past the dismal mine area, passages opened up in several directions. Walking passages went off in every direction. To my receptive mind, it was a maze of twisty <i>large</i> passages, and not all alike. This was exactly the kind of cave I'd been waiting for.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTN0nd_VxesVt73UuizxzythT9SicJ-cxE9TdMZXFpLyOJDS2NduDRDOcHGVPP_UR1nKWFMKnlpbSm01v7L0n7PoQpDaqCHrndwwC6Q0hHQOgseOgG1fG8If3hwGRtX7bobMkHWYiCkJ0/s1024/Picture%20005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTN0nd_VxesVt73UuizxzythT9SicJ-cxE9TdMZXFpLyOJDS2NduDRDOcHGVPP_UR1nKWFMKnlpbSm01v7L0n7PoQpDaqCHrndwwC6Q0hHQOgseOgG1fG8If3hwGRtX7bobMkHWYiCkJ0/s400/Picture%20005.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br />
Smoth contoured walls, dry gravel floors (this is not always the case during seasonally wet weather. We have seen the cave flood to where we had to skirt deep pools by rerouting through higer side galleries and on high gravel banks.)<br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Earl led us on a quick tour, which did a lot to form my first impressions of a large and relatively complex cave, with numerous branches. Best of all, it was <i>nearly all dry</i>, at least on that visit, and it had “go” potential for more cave. I really loved the “Maze”, a complex of beautifully sculpted passages flanking the main passage, and reconnecting to it through a small short crawl that dropped into an alcove of the large and bewildering Breakdown Room.<br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After we emerged late to the surface we crashed into our sleeping bags, dreaming of mazes of endless, twisting passages.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The next day we were joined by legendary Texas cave photographers Carl Kunath and Pete Lindsley, and the Daddy of Arkansas caving, Jim Schermerhorn. Jim was best known for his explorations of Fitton Cave.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Our goal was the Waterfall Room, a huge dome-pit over 100 feet high, garbed in massive flowstones and stalagmite pillars. A balcony halfway up gave a good viewpoint. A waterfall drizzled from the nearly unseen ceiling. Getting to the floor was an awkward process with a couple of inclined slot-crawls and a handline descent to the graveled floor. </div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">There were remnants of fallen stalagmites, now solutioning away through the inexorable drip of the water.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Earl led the way up several pitches to a ledge on the far side of the dome-pit then tied off a cable ladder and a handline rope to add security and confidence for our ascent. A narrow ledge continued alogside a void, then ducked into the safety of a crawlway, which in turn led to the Crystal Room.<br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The small gypsum flowers had already suffered traffic and collectors, but enough remained to grace the garage-sized chamber. There were also glassy helictites.<br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Once the obligatory photos were taken, we exited from the Crystal Room, descended the wall, reascended the far side, and not without some difficulty, and strolled our way back through the main passage to the entrance.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So ended my first visit to Ennis Cave. In September, 1972, Chuck Van Arsdale and I made a 24 hour road trip from Springfield, MO to northern Arkansas, with Ennis Cave as the last cave of our very long day. We arrived just before sunset, and didn’t emerge until 11 p.m. Back in Mountain View, we hungrily gobbled some cold fried chicken and sliced tomatoes at the funky Mountain View Cafe, the only place open. I remember there were gaps in the floorboards which looked down onto the ground. Then we headed home on dark, winding roads, trying to keep each other awake as we took turns driving. It’s a wonder we made it alive to Springfield. I couldn't remember crossing the Buffalo River bridge.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I grew enamored of the cave, and in the later 70s, initiated a cave mapping project headed by Robert L. Taylor, which eventually gathered over four miles of survey. At the time I saw that many apparent “dead ends” could be extended by looking more closely, up, down, sideways, out of the corner of one eye. The cave continued to fascinate us, but significant extensions were elusive, until July, 1974.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My caving friends were more persistent than I. While I was away on a trip, Lon Odell and sons, and Bob Taylor, squirmed through a maze of breakdown from an obscure alcove of the Breakdown Room to find an extension later called “<a href="http://enniscave.net/AvenuE/photos.htm">Avenue E</a>”. It's a complex of crawls and a short spacious hall, with slick mud slopes to a tight stream. There are still tight, blowing leads off that extension. </div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">In later years, members Randy and Kevin Rose of the Kansas City Area Grotto purchased the land around the cave entrance, made it into a preserve, improved the entrance and gated it.<br />
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They developed a cavers' campground, outhouse and sauna, and went on finding new and often very attractive areas underground. One new find was within a short distance of the entrance.<br />
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<blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">Acknowlegements: Earl Neller, who first took us to Ennis Cave; Brent Wilkins for support and use of his photos; Teddy Marsdan, for kindly letting me use her artwork; Marty Griffin, for photos and encouragement' and especially, Randy and Kevin Rose, owners of the Ennis Cave Preserve, for their help, permission to use media from Enniscave.net, and especially, for making the cave safe to enter and accessible to qualified cavers.</span></blockquote><blockquote><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #741b47;">A Memorial thank you to pioneer caver Lon Odell, and to Chuck Van Arsdale, who enthusiastically joined me on that wild ride, Labor Day, 1972.</span></blockquote><br />
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</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Here’s a YouTube video, created by Rick Hines, showing off some of the features of Ennis Cave.</div><div style="font-size: medium; font: normal normal normal 18px/normal Verdana; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; min-height: 22px;"><br />
</div></div><object height="340" width="560"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ioVLkwNfUWU&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ioVLkwNfUWU&hl=en_US&fs=1?rel=0&color1=0x006699&color2=0x54abd6" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"></embed></object>Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6811629857437366985.post-4303400035935299282010-07-12T02:20:00.000-07:002016-02-07T07:45:31.051-08:00The Adventure Begins<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: "lucida grande"; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><br />
</span></span>“<i>You are standing at the end of a road before a small brick building. </i><br />
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<i>Around you is a forest. A small stream flows out of the building and </i></div>
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<i>down a gully</i>.”— From the early computer game, Adventure, by Will Crowther and successors.<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 18px;">From 1957 to 1995, I was a caver. (“Caver” is the preferred word for someone who explores caves for sport or recreation. “Spelunker” is a jocular term and is less accepted.) Now I look back with fond memories of some of the great adventures in which we participated, while increasingly convinced that we must have been insane.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">I picked up the bug as a freshman in high school, when I read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Caves-Beyond-Collins-Crystal-Exploration/dp/0914264184/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1278868909&sr=8-2">“The Caves Beyond”</a>, by Lawrence and Brucker. I was amazed at the intricacies of the nucleus cavern of what was later to become <i><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Longest-Cave-Roger-W-Brucker/dp/0809313227">The Longest Cave</a></i>. It’s an understatement to say that I was totally naïve as to what was really involved in caving. When you read the following, you may wonder why any sane person would engage in such an activity. As compelled as I was by the sport, I also now wonder at our sanity.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">The naïve 17 year old freshman caver had a dreamy sort of concept, something like wandering about in labyrinthine* tunnels and grand chambers, with an occasional crawlway or a bit of a pitch to liven things up. Give us a squeeze, love. Through the Keyhole. It's fun! Oh, maybe there was some dirt involved. It would be like playing in the dirt when you were a kid. That’s it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">When our family moved to Missouri from Connecticut, I was in heaven, so I first thought.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">The first Missouri cave I visited was down in a sinkhole in Jefferson County, a climbable descent that led to a mudbank flanked stream passage with a small maze of crawl ways networking above the banks. For some strange reason, we always visited this cave at night, and once emerged, soaking wet on a New Year’s Day at 1:00 a.m. Our sodden, muddy clothes froze as we shed them, and we hurried to change into dry ones. Great group fun! It built warm feelings of camaraderie.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">On an overnight trip to Gasconade County, I was introduced to the Central Missouri caves’ characteristic red clay banks, some of the slipperiest, most viscous, clinging and staining muck imaginable. There was also some stream passage with waist-deep water, underlain by boot-sucking red clay. The reward for these exercises in discomfort was a room decorated with petal-like <a href="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1330/1410962614_09f83bf208.jpg">spathite</a> speleothems (cave formations). The truth is that I gave up in tired disgust before reaching the prize.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">As experiences grew, I was privileged to visit Missouri’s longest, Carroll Cave. It is a huge tunnel of several miles in aggregate length, but characteristically, lined with the worst red clay banks imaginable as well as seemingly interminably dreary river passage. There is a fiercely disgusting sucking sound ones’ boots make as they attempt to negotiate the exhausting banks of clay. </span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">The rewards are some very fine areas of speleothems and a brief view of a thundering waterfall, part of a separate drainage system. There’s also potential hypothermia, exhaustion, mud and leg cramps.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">Back then, Arkansas was across the frontier. It was "The Land of Opportunity". The roads were not as well developed as those in Missouri, and little was known about the caves, other than “Half Mile Cave”, later to be developed as Blanchard Springs Cavers, and especially, Fitton, or “Beauty” Cave, located in the rugged mesa topped mountains in the drainage of the Buffalo River Country.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">My first visit to Fitton Cave, about 1963, ws what we called a "bop" or "tourist" trip, involving no original exploration, yet it pushed risk taking through sketchy maneuvers to a new level of imprudency. A group of friends from Missouri U. at Columbia and I made a slippery, bald-tired, rusting wreck of a drive two days, to the area around Harrison, Arkansas. There I also discovered the joys of cheap, all-you-can-eat buffets and continued my education in all night cafes. Signature dish: <a href="http://mexkitchen.blogspot.com/2009/11/southern-comfort-country-sausage-gravy.html">Southern Comfort: Country Sausage Gravy</a>.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">Our group was heavly laden with basic underground camping gear, some of it in laundry bags and my buddy Ed’s gear in a folding suit carrier. Our rations included glass jars of peanut butter and grape jelly.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">The unsavory maneuvers included chimneying up and down in sinuous, increasingly deeper canyons, with tension growing as we negotiated our way across the lacy ledges that rimmed the rooftop of the Round Room, a large central dome-pit about 80 feet high. Beyond that we haltingly advanced by means of incredibly thin chert ledges, supported in some cases by spindly stalks of remnant rock.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">Some of my companions must have thought they were immortal, but I didn’t hew to that belief. I was terrified.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">Then came an 80 foot descent, interrupted by intermittent paralysis, by chimneying and leaping from one sloping ledge to another, until we at least reached the level, more or less, of the floor of the Round Room.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">But the risky business was not over. A series of broad and often awkward “Jumps” over an incised stream canyon were necessary to reach our snug encampment under the overhanging walls of the Round Room. Not bad going upstream, but exceedingly awkward and requiring agile leaps of faith when going in the downstream direction. A total of 21 Jumps; a few, benign and easy, many challenging, a couple totally and absurdly difficult. (Stand on sand and gravelly edge, reach forward in ceiling channel as far as possible across the gap; kick leg high while propelling ones' body forward, and slightly upward. I took the Chicken Route and walked through the stream 12 feet below, rather than make a few of the leaps.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">That was just the entrance route to miles of far larger, grander, more complex series of passages and large rooms. There were many rewarding areas to see and to photograph. Although often stretched beyond my limits, and terrified at intervals, I had a great time. From that visit, I knew then that some Arkansas caves were special, and there it was that I wanted to concentrate my explorations.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;"><i>Later, there was Ennis Cave</i>. <i>That story </i>c<i>oming soon.</i></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">*I was quickly enamored of the word, "<a href="http://www.thefreedictionary.com/labyrinthine">Labyrinthine</a>" and so it is, to this day. "Labyrinthine". Roll that exquisite word about in your mouth.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px;">NOTE: Comments are now open. Owner moderation and Word Verification are ON in order to limit Spam, Vienna Sausages, and especially, Potted Meat Food Product. (Cavers will understand this.)</span></div>
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Don Cuevashttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13512081335891808593noreply@blogger.com7