WINTER (98 57

CELE

Newsletter. No. {1
EpiteD BY PAWL
TYPED BY JANE —

veittien ay YOU! eo

\S GATING THE
ANSwWeR 7
TO BOLT OR NOT TO BOLT. ..+2

A heated debate took place at this year's A
B.C.R.A. conference on the question of bolting.
The present proliferation cf pimples ll over
the fair face of Yorkshire limestone is causing
the Dales Cavers to rise up with hitherto
unprecedented fervour. The outery comes in two
forns, firstly there are too mny new bolts
appearing on the scene, especially badly placed
and badly drilled bolts; and secondly - the
appearance in vast quantities of diseased red
bolts, (the Dave Elliot/Dick Lawson variety) -

At the conference ve were given a lecture on
the extent to which natural belays can be used
and a selection of photographs took us down
Notts Pot pitches vith only two rigged vith
polts. Occasionally bolts were used as
backups. Colin Boothroyd (answers to the name
"handsome" in Inglesport) illustrated the red
bolt disease at the top of Rovten Pot.
Carefully drilled in at the top were 2 red
bolts, alittle to the right were several
non-red ones, and 2 feet avay to give a
perfect free hang was a relatively enormous
tree} Why then the need for bolts?

sien Eyre

Now all you bolters out there, (I can honestly
say that I have NEVER put a bolt in in my life) you know how arduous it is to
put ina bolt, vell - relief} There is now 2 NEW bolting tool which boasts a
successful rate of 5 bolts per half hour. Heaven forbid the red-bolt brigade
to get hold of one. Suppose you're in possession of this mega-mchine, where
are you going to Place your new bolt holes? The majority of caves now have
sufficient (ie. far too many) bolts and by drilling too close te the others
you are in-fact endangering life as it weakens the rock substantially. Some
planke are even drilling in calcite. This I believe is for a screening of
‘Deathwish IIL’

The debate came up with several constructive ideas, one was to propose the
N.C.A. drafting a bolting code, eg 1) no bolts to be drilled within a sa
margin of 12" of another. This vould reduce the possibilities concerning
bolt placement: eg 2) a colour coding so we'd know what bolts were safe.
No one agreed with this and the metallurgists and geologists pointed out that
any caver could easily discover whether a bolt was safe. We discussed the
possibilities of stainless steel bolts (ie. non-rustable) but this cannot be
hardened enough for the job. So we're atuck with mild steel ones which need
greasing. ~

ety

Even more proposals case with the second problen - red bolts. Now these are
even nore frustrating because they do scar the subterranean landscape visibly.
Some cavers give then credit for that, as they needn't look so closely for
their bolts as these are immediately apparent. However, should we become =
lazy breed and play dot-to-dot caving?

Dave Elliot is putting in these red bolts where there are quite sufficient
bolts already for the sole mercenary reason of selling his RT book.' It ia
a two man enterprise enforcing itself of the mss majority of cavers who do
not vant these bolts or his book. The caves are no longer being scarred for

the sake of being safe, but are being irrepratly damaged for his pocket.
Indeed some of his bolts are so badly done that they will be fatal if used.
Not only that, as he bolts, Mr. Elliot is systematically removing fixed aids
which other clubs have with hard work, installed. eg. the stemples over
Battleaxe traverse in Lost Johns, It has suddenly become an intimidating
venture vith red bolts lecring at you as you jes.

There are solutions -

1) Break his arms.

2) Send a petition to him to stop.

3) Get the NCA to act eg. a bolting code.

4) Remove the red plastic and thereby invalidate his book.

5) Boycott his book, This will leave us with the bolts but at least he will

not have profitted. Phil Brovn of Caving Supplies has surpassed himself and

refused to sell his book. Colin Boothroyd seema likely to follow suit.

6) Smash the bolts in. A thoroughly bad idea as ve get a 12" crater as

opposed to a 1” bolt hole.
Whilst this fervant debate was underway ve asked how many of the NCA vere
present. Only two, beth of whom had no powers of voting or proposing a motion.
How much use then are the NCA? If we take a look at the legal side of
bolting, should a speleo insert a badly drilled bolt and someone subsequently
be killed on it, a Judge, to determine liability in negligence proceedings,
vould need some form of "bolting code" to go by. How is he to know how a bolt
should be put in and how is he to know then how grossly unsafe a "bad bolt" is?
If he was presented with a bolting code he would have more of an idea and
anyone bolting outside that code would not be covered by BCRA (or other)
insurance.

Well, if you've read this far, you'll deduce that I, like many others, feel
very strongly about this subject. We could as a club ask D.C-A. to petition,
or get D.C.A. to suss out a bolting code along with N.C.A. and LEGALISE it
under the conservation laws and we're all capable of boycotting a book and
removing plastic discs. Ralph, if the club feels strongly enough, could on
behalf of CCFC ask Jo Royles not to consider stociing Dave Elliot's book when
it is released for the market.

REMEMBER. THIS IS CAVE CONSERVATION YEAR AND THEY'RE YOUR CAVES.

LIN.

FRESH DISCOVERY ?

Returning from an exciting weekends trip to Mendip Country, our tvo brave and
gallant explorers, Kev Mountford and Ian Freemn, instilled with an insatiable
urge to visit hitherto 'Virgin Soil’, bravely stepped where no man had dared
to tread before wes. ++ M6 Services Ladies Loot!!

Good try though ladst

E VANDALISM; IS GATING THE ANSWER:

As another Welsh caving-ground seems set to go behind lock and key, let's
take a closer look at the effects, if any, which gating has on preserving
the natural state of our underground heritage.

Let's start with a place dear to our hearts - Knotlow Mine. Has the gating
restriction on access preserved this as neolithic nan left it? Not unlecs
our cave wan had a fettish for um Mars Bars it hasn't. However, the point
cnn be examined by looking at a cave with something in particular to protect.

Consider the proposed gating of Daren Cilau, This "open-cave" has so far —
despite painstaking taping off of forbidden routes - had formations soiled,
mud sediments disturbes and, inevitably, spent carbide dumped thoughtlesaly
throughout. Now Daren Cilau is such that the forboding entrance crawl serves
to discourage most inexperienced and most cowboy cavers from attempting the
trin, and so the damage must be done by cavers who should know better. If
the cave vas gated, such cavere could still obtain a key, though the casual
calling in on the esve at will vould be frustrated. Would a moral sense of
propriety be instilled into the otherwise destructive cavers? Most certainly
not. It seems the answer then, is to follow the exanple set by Otter, 0.F.D.,
ané D.¥.0. and have a leader system, This docs have it's disadvantages.

Firctly, unless there's 1 leader vithin your club, the presence of an outsider
leading the trip makes the party feel as though it's being shepherded around

a yarticularly strenuous tourist trip. The atmosphere is often lost.
Secondly, how would it be decided which caves had formations vorthy enough

of the effort involved in introducing the system. Would the consequential
drop in the number of visitors to the cave be rated as beneficial to the
cave's environent, or us a further bane to the caver?

You aight gather that I don't approve of access restrictions unless it's to
appease the landowner or to protect formations IF BACKED UP BY A LEADERSHIP
SYSTEM. This is not to say that I approve of gate-blasting. Criminal damage
is definitely off my list of hobbies. And vith a maximum jail sentance of
10 years it should be off your list toot

LIN.

Ralph finally made it through Dowber Gill (Providence - Pow), despite harassment
from Lenny and Paul H. Needless to say, the entire group failed to warn him

that everyone would be in wetsuits (except him). However the trip does provide

an alternative to vasectomy as a means of sterilization.

Anyone needing « guide for this trip should see Paul, Jane-or Derek (but not Ralph).

En Can Ralph please have his "Kettlewell Guide" back???
RQR.SaMe TACKLE SACKS £6.

CHEST HARNESSES £3.5¢

KNEE JAMMER STRAPS +75p

8 HOUR CELLS £11 (NON

OLDHAM HEAD SFTS. £3.50 (NON HP
B.C. fe As CONFERENCE 1985

Well yet another poor turnout from G.C.P.C but at least you didn't miss quite as
much es last year, I'll write on a selection of the lectures given,

All you keen miners missed a talk on recent work in the Alderley Edge mines, and
Paul and Phil missed an informative half hour by the mole-man himself, Bob Mackin
= "Radio location".

There was the inevitable Hulu session but since we've got our own private collection
of Jerry's photos, nothing was lest by not seeing it.

Tony Waltham gave a lecture on China but enough said as I told you in the last
mega edition about it's conical karst.

Of all the lectures to miss, Imissed the Untamed River} Necdless to say, reports
of it’s brilliance were rife, and I had to console myself with a visit to the pub,

Ralph, you missed a very illuminating lecture on your favourite cave - Lost Johns
~ Lyle Cavern Extensions. Unfortunately, the wire with which one formerly pulled
up ones rope to gain access to the Lyle Cavern serics has been dismantled by
someone. The extensions are quite a decent size, veering off towards Notts Pot
at one angle and Short Drop at another. What with Colin Boothroyd's Lost Johns -
Rumbling connection, and a possible Notts connection, things are looking desmrate
for idle cavers like ue.

Next was a talk of which I strongly approved. Our own dear Geoff Yeadon on caving,
without a single underground shot! He, his pretty wife and his gorgeous dog,
Humphrey, set off walking from Bull Pot Farm all along that ridge of upwards-inclined
land(sounds less energetic), encompassing the three counties. He took us on a

tour of cave entrances and shoved us the hydrology of different systexs which more
than suggested numerous connections from Bull Fot of the Witches alnost down to

Mendip!
Paul was my reporter for Rob Parker's discussion on "New Techniques in Cave Diving",

tut he was suffering fron postman's eyelid and missed nost of it!

an and I
is the na
carryi

tched the final part of Indonesia '85 but all I'11 tell you about that
ives have disgustingly runny noses and exceptionally erude means of
its 'n' bobs in a hollowed out branch.

ze

A lecture on County Kerry made it sound very interesting underground if only you
can fight your vay through all the old rusting ears dumped down the entrances.

Cave '85 was another episode in the annual, hilarious look at enves and cavers
One topic emphasised overall - the Red Bolt. Tho Sit and Shiver Avard was awa:
to the Derbychire venture scouts for their antics down Diccan, and the Most Unpopular
Man of the Year Award went to Dave Elliot.

a

On Sunde the most popular talk was that on the latest developments in Daren Cilau.
If you're a reader of C & C or Descent you'll protatly be sick to death of hearing
about it, but it was refreshing to have a clear photo session of it. The surveys
were on sale for just £1.

A frightening talk on what can go wrong vith ladders and lifelines was given by
Brian Cowie (sce article in next newsletter). Making the best of natural belays
in S.R.T, came next and the speaker had overwhelming support.

An unusual leeture on Art and Caving was slept through by Paul ond ynwned at by
ne, as I'm not a great fan of co called modern art whether it's supposed to ke
a cave or not. A brick looks like a brick and no stretch of the inagination can
make it look otherwise.

There were lectures on caves from all over the world, of no real interest unless
you're going there, but there was a slide of Phil in the YU.C.P.C. Picos lecture.

This year there were videos to see and there was a strong emphasis on cave conser-
vation. Did you know it is cave conservation year? On the whole the conference
vasn't ae good as last year. The speleo ctoup on Saturday night vas violent (take
a close look at Ian's nose) and full of naked men which vas particularly offensive.
The videos were a good iden, and if you haven't seen "The Underground Eiger" then
it's well vorth seeing.

The Inglesport stand vas better than usual as they vere selling off cheap Whernside
goare

The new Troll sit harness has one dravback, it's got nylon webbing and polyester
stitching.

By the vay it's the C.R.O's Golden Jubilee so put a few pence in the tin for good
mensure. We have people sitting down caves for days and jumping out of aeroplanes
for various charities, could we not have a concerted effort at raising cash for
the C.R.0. ? Any ideas ? :

LIN.

GAVE R

Monday 30th September ~ another exciting day in the ‘dogs life’ of a caver.

Off we raced, Halph, Rob Heath, Melv, Kev, Steve Knox and myself, to Peak Forest
ona merey mission for D.G.8.0, A emall hound with suicidal tendancies had
decided that it would be fun to jump down a 70 shaft and wait for half a dozen
idiots from the human race to fetch it out, having performed-a similar stunt

3 days previously at Eldon Hole.

It took us approximtely 20 minutes to retrieve the 'beasty' and return it to
it's new found ouner,

The rest of the evening vas spent enjoying liquid refreshment at Ralph's local.

Derek.
3000" UP 3000" DoW! REKEND TRIP TO THE P.S.M. BY PLANE.

Engine roaring, our tiny monoplane fought its way up the Biggin Hill runway,
wartime launch pod of "The Few". Although our caving gear and spare clothes
vere cut to the minimum, the veight of ourselves, our in flight sandviches and
the fuel in the wingtanks took the all-up weight to the linit and our takeoff
run was three times the normal. Eventually we were airborne, and Ron Crocker,
our pilot, set course for the Channel over the Seaford beacon. Our flight to
the Pyrenees had begun.

During the next 52 hours I often had to pinch myself to see if the scenes and
events were real, as almost everything seemed unbelievable. The idea of travers-
ing the Pierre St. Martin over a weekend, using a light plane to fly there and
back, wns dreamt up» yexr ago, one vine and woodsmoke scented evening on the

- Plateau. Bill Brooks, Andy Ive and I were celebrating « trip down the
Gouffre Berger around the campfire, and as the wine flowed, so did our future
plans. I said I could arrange to have the P.S.M. booked and rigged and Bill
reckoned he could organise a plane, so it secned feasible. As 1984 unrolled,

our plans matured and were finslised. I telephoned my old eaving friend Michel
Louga in the Pyrenecs, and Bill spoke to an ex pupil cf his who owned a four
seater Rallye Tobago 10. Both Michel and Ron were keen to help, and the descent
vas fixed for the first of September, Now, after all the planning, here we were
airborne into adventure.

At first the plane ceeued very insubstantial. Flying at 3000 feet ve dropped
into the cccasionil airpocket leaving our stomachs momentarily poised midair,
also from time to tine, the plane seemed to slip sideways. It was completely
different from the familiar and stable platforn of a scheduled airliner. 4s
the drone of the engine and the voices on the intercom became more usual, we
began to notice the lack of legroom and the heat of the sun through the canopy,
I idly perused the instrument panel, trying to decipher the digits on the
navigation computer, in between watching the landscape below and shouting to
Andy, sitting next to me in the back seat.

By the time ve crossed into France, high over Le Havre, I vas well accustomed
to the scene and the motion and started to show interest in our route, using
naps provided by Bill. Me flew for about three hours, aainly following
electric pylons, roads and rivers, with occasional towns like Le Mans acting
as waymarkers, until we touched down at Poitiers to clear customs and top up
the fuel tanks. A brief chat with the local gendarmes who were standing in
for the douanier and ve were off again, anxious to make our final lending
before dusk. We only just made it. The shadovs on the ground vere lengthen~
ing and the sun very low on the horison when we reached the Fyrences. We
eventunlly nade out the grass landing strip at Oloron - Herreére, with its
corrugated control tower roof carrying the faded letters "OLORON - I RRERE" ,
picked out in white on the rusty surface.

The control tower appeared to be unmanned as norone anewered the. reféo, so Ron
circled for a closer lock, especially as there vas a powered glider attempting
to take off, We buckled on our seat belts and Ron brought us in over the tree
tops to a nent but bumpy landing on the sun-baked surface. We could see Michel
and Anni with their small daughter Laurette over by the car park waving to us.
Ron taxied over, and as coon as the engine stopred we clambered out to grect
them. For ae it was a most pleasant reunion as I had not seen Michel and Anni
for four years in which time Laurette had been born, Michel had shaved his

beard off'and I had grown onet We had lots to talk about, but dinner was waiting

7
taek at Michel's new house, so we unlonded our gear from the plane and into
the boots of the two cars nearby, then Michel and Anni drove us to their home
at Issor leaving the plane parked like a car on the edge of the grassy runway.

Michel's new house vas mgnificent, High on the side of the valley over Issor,
it commended a superb panoromic view of the Pyrenees, In the twilight ve could
see Pic d'Anie silhoutted against the sky, and the mountain air seemed cool and
fruity. We walked along a terrace and into the min living room through sliding
glase doors to find Michel's brother Jean-Paul and his wife Jaqui putting the
final touches to a well laden dinner table. Gilbert and Jean-Gilles, old friends
from previous years, were cooking sausages ona barbecue near their tent in the
garden, and hearing our voices came in to welcome us. Anni proférred Pernod and
ve all partook of well-iced aperitifs, the babble of the conversation increasing
as nevs was exchanged and introductions made. Adding to the throng were Jean-
Pauls children and Michels older daughter Anna, who arrived with Michel's
enormous sheepdog from a game in the garden.

Anni eventually had us seated around the table and served us cold meats and a
superb salad laced with raw chilis. "Un peu Spice" she said as ve gasped,
Luckily the 'mergeuse’ sausages vere not as hot as usual or we vould have sunk
even more wine to cool our uouths) Bill gobbled up the chilis as if they vere
lettuce....he aust have had an iron mouth! We had a most enjoyable dinner
during vhich Michel explained that a room had been booked for Ron in the hotel
at Iscor, but that he had to take the room before 10 O'clock. The time passed
so pleasantly and convivially that it was a surprise to have to leave with Ron
(as his interpreter) just as the coffee and cognac arrived. Ron offered to
take the girls for a spin in his aeroplane the next day, which they accepted
enthusiastically after some trepidation. It was arranged that Anni would
travel down and collect him from the hotel in the morning, and then Michel
drove Ron and we down to Issor to sort out the hotel accommodation. This did
not take long, although there were some complications arising from « vedding
at the hotel which meant a change to a different hotel on the Saturday
evening. Soon, Michel and I arrived back at the dinner table where the Plans
for the next day were being discussed.

Two days previously Michel, Jean Paul, Gilbert and Jean Gilles had rigged Tete
Sauvage to the bottom. They had arranged transport too. Gilbert's car was
already at St. Engrfce and we would travel to Téte Sauvage in Michel's old car
and ina Renault 5 to be driven by Jean-Francois (who was arriving tomorrow.)
Jean-Faul and Anni would drive up to Téte Sauvage to recover Michel's car once
we were underground and take it to St. Engréce for our return. Because of the
weight Limitations on the plane ve had no food or carbide, but Michel had
bought some for us, so we all trouped out to the garage to fill our lamps and
pack our tacklebegs. With all our preparations for the norning couplete,
Michel showed us up to the children's bedroom where we were to sleep in borroved
sleeping bugs. Soon we were all fast asleep, the days excitement counter
balanced by the wine and cognac. %

At about 5 am. the phone rang and woke us all briefly. It was Jean-Francois
confirming that he was en route! Sleep returned and we did not stir again

until the beeper on ay watch sounded reveille at 8 am. We arose to a beautifully
fresh and sunny morning. The Pyrenses looked aa magnificent as ever, and the
sir, cool and invigorating, ensured that we did not dawdle over our ablutions,
Breakfast downstairs catered for all tastes, fruit juice, tea or coffee, rolls,

é cereals. Ye ate heartily and vere still busy when Jean-Francois arrived
with Gilles, resplendent in a stripy teeshirt and black beret, accompanied by
Jean a tough locking Pyrenean carpenter. A general bustle ensued and the cars
vere soon loaded and we vere off down the morning ronds twisting down the valley

8.

and up to the Pyrenees. Andy, Bill, Jean-Gilles and I travelled in Michel's
old Peugeot, the rest in the Renault 5 belonging to Jean-Francois.

After about half an hour's drive ve came to the ski village of Arette La Pierre
St. Martin, Here ve left the metalled roads and plunged on to a rocky, precipit-
ous track. 'Affreux' was Michel's descriptions and frightful it certainly was,
in many places covered in large rocks which hit the underside of the car fron
time to time with the most expensive sounding bangs and thads. Michel rovved tho
engine and fought the car along about tvo miles of, this until ve eventually
reached the grassy hollow up on the top near the Tate Sauvage, and pulled to a
standstill neat a parked cxr. Two cavers vere sleeping on the ground and awoke
on our urrival, They uere from Careassone and were to do the detuckling on
Monday, but today vould follow behind us after a tvo or three hour interval.
Michel exrlained the route to them and gave then a sketch map, and then ve
started the ritual of changing into our caving gear.

Gilles had some new yellow gloves. He put these on his feet and strutted around
like a chicken to the general anusenent of us all. We all felt Light hearted
and Bill and Andy started the policeman jokes going. I interpreted these for

e benefit of the others and raised a laugh too. Andy and I donned wetsuits,
1st the others put on therm) underwear and IVC oversuits. Whilst the French
cavers carried spare clothes and rubber 'pontonieres' in their tackle bags, Bill
carried his weteuit, Andy took no spare clothes and I had a cotton overall and
Damarts in sealed polythene bags. By now it was well after 10 am. and the sun
was beating down strongly so Andy and I began to sveat, mercifully it vas a
short distance to the entrance, but it was a steep scromble uphill over the rocks
in the full glare of the sun, so we were vary keen to enter the cool of the cave.

The Tete Sauvage entrance was easily recognised by a fifteen foat wooden rectang-
ular chimney-like construction, used to kecp the entrance clear of snow in the
winter. Jean-Francois climbed up the outside clutching the guy ropes and standing
precariously on minute projections afforded by the holding bolts. He disappeared
inside, and since no one else appenred to be ready I followed, The climb up the
outside of the wooden chimney was not too difficult, but the descent inside was
obstructed by the Dexion framework holding the edifice together. My tackle bag,
suspended by a cord fron ay sitharness, jammed and stuck, making my progress

slow. I eventually dropped down into the rift below, hovever, and managed to

sort things out.

The rift led to the first pitch, which was equipped with a fixed aid called a
‘nat du perroquet! vhich literslly translated means a parrot ladder. These aids
uere in place to a depth of around 200 m. and each consisted of a tubular iron
pole with rungs driven through at intervals of about 30 cm. Since Michel had
fixed safety lines, however, I clipped my rack in for protection and slid dovn
the rungs hand over hand, ny feet only touching when I needed to stop and see
vhere I was going or changeover ropes. The first ritch of about 30 feet led
dircetly on to a 60 ft pitch folloved by an 80 ft and then a 100 ft pitch to the
First Meander.

‘The first Meander was not too difficult to negotiete, but I had to crawl through
towing ay tackle tag and then wedge out to get on to the next pitch. A 200 ft
shaft was equipped with four of the poles in series, the last one lying obliquely
across the shaft leadingto an avkward constriction above an 80 ft rope pitch.
Here I vas overtaken by Andy who came flying down with gay abandon and no attach-
nents to the safety lines. The bolt change on the other side of the constriction
Was quite avkvard involving a difficult move out over the 20 ft drop below on =
long coustail before I could take my veight on the short cowstail and attach my
rack to the rope. I think Ancy dispensed with these high assurance tactics and
just hung on by his arns The rope dropped me down to a large platform when T

vas narrovly missed by a pebble dislodged by Bill who had arrived at the
constriction. Several rope pitches folloved dovn a steeply inclined rift
dropping a further 150 ft or so to another Meander.

‘the second Meander was fairly easy and opened on to another rope pitch with a

bolt change at a smill ledge to the left. Unfortunately there was insufficient
slack in the rope for me to take out my rack from the first section and I had to
hoist myself up bodily to release the rack, using my long cowstail for protection
clipped into the bolt belov-a most unsafe manoeuvre, As soon as the rack vas

free I managed to crab my short covstail into the hanger and effect a conventional
changeover. All of this faffing about allowed Bill tine to catch me up and I
could hear the others hard on his heels, so I made » rapid descent to the Third
Meander.

The Third Meander led to a series of easy climbs over large waterbasins, where

I tried to keep my tackle bag cry with some difficulty. Here Bill decided to
take a photograph of Andy who-was now at the top of the final 100m shaft. Bill's
camera vas a doctored 'Instamatic! with a piece of string to hold the shutter
open, the whole carried ina 1% litre lemonade bottle with the base cut and used
ts a waterproof plug. He hoped it vould survive'the trip! A grost deal of
shouting and flash bulb popping later, and Andy departed downvards. Bill soon
was on the rope and it was ay turn to follow.

The shaft was quite deep (over 300 ft) and had been equipped with six bolt
changes and a protection belay to negotiate. Liasing between Bill below and
Gilbert who was now following called for 2 clear head not to mix the languages,
as I could swear in botht The last bolt change was really entertaining and
éefied expletives in French or English. A large rib of rock stuck out from the
opposite wall and the hanger for the final section of rope was inserted behind
the rib forcing one to swing out on to the rib somehow before being able to clip
in and change ropes. \ tatty piece of very ancient rope dangled off the rib and
there vere one or two tiny foot holds on the rib itself. After a brief period
of indecision, I sw out on the upper rope, clutched the rib, got a knee on
the other side of it grabbed the ancient rope. Muscles straining, and
poised almost off balance on 2 negligible tochold, I managed to clip ny cowsteil
into the Maillon on the last section, and then dangled in an ungeinly monner
struggling to undo ay rack from the upper rope. Eventually I completed the
changeover and made a smooth descent down into a huge rift, where the lights of
Andy, Bill and Jean-Francois vere twinkling far below.

T soon found out vhy they were waiting; the next oostacle was a low cuck. Sill
Gecided that the overalls lent hin by Michel hod outlived their usefulness and

that he vould change into his vetsuit, whilet the others arrived. Jean-Francois
Jowered himeelf on to his back and slid under the duck face upwards to ensure an
air suprly. Andy and I followed face dounuards and not too worried at the soaking
in our wetsuits. The route on was down a series of climbs and two short pitches
rigzed with 8.5 mm cord. The area here was quite damp so T did not hang around,
tut oven so, the other two were soon out of earshot. I found myself ina largish
ber and after climbing down a slanting slab and rift cane to a streamway;
gumbly this was the Salle Cosyns although I could not be sure of that. With
no signa of the other tvo I moved downstream, the roar of the water quite deafening
ne the passageway diminished. I took a right turn to avoid a deep pool and ontered
a narrow rift-like passage where my shouts were answered. Andy and Jenn-Froncois
were sitting at the top of a calcite elope on the righthand vall. Unless T had
known, I vould never had geen the way on, and almost walkes straight past them.
Khilst we waited for the others to arrive, I broke open « bar of chocolate from

the surrly in ay helmet, and as we sunched Jean-francois explained the route ahead.
So far ve had only been underground an hour and a half so we were malcing good tine.

10.

Eventually we heard a faint shout and Gilbert appeared below, Like me, he almost
walked pact us, but for our shouts. The others trickled in behind, so we crawled
through a small constriction and on‘to a climb doun of about 30 feet into another
largish chamber, using a rope for safety and . spare figure of eight descender,
ae by now we had divested ourselves of all our SRT gear. On the other side we

to scramble up a steep slope leading to a large passageway where ve pruned
ma good vantage point to watch the others descend and cross the chamber, their
lights outlining the route like cats eyes. Bill tried to take a photograrh and
persuaded everyone to stand stock still whilst he did so. By now his lemonade
bottle was dented and decidedly fragile so I doubt if the shot was a success.

The way on was through a series of large, boulder strovn passages where we mde
rapid progress to the ‘Salle des Anciens', a large dry chanber with a rubbish
strewn camping area. Here Michel called a halt for a snack and for the French
cavers to put on their "pontonitres" for the water ahead. By now Bill and Andy
had exhausted all the 'policenan' jokes and vere on to 'wonan in bed' jokes;
Gilles had finished bis‘chicker jokes and was on to'sheep' jokes when not inflating
his 'pontoniére’ to do a busty vomen turn or two. I reckoned that we must have
been underground about three hours or more.

Replete and kitted out for watery routes, we set off once more at roughly the same
level in high vaulted passageways strewn with boulders, following the occasional
luminescent red vay marker as the route became more complex. At one point (it
may have been 'the Grand Cornice') we had te inch across a narrow sloping slirpery
ledge, stooping to avoid our tackle bags fouling on the overhanging wall with
bottowless pit on our left. Michel said that there used te be a fixed hanjline
here once, and I for one would have welcomed it. After this obstacle we scaled

a small cliff, where racky foothold broke under my weight and I fell beck on

y tackle bag ceveral feet below. Then we got lost.

Michel and three others prusicked up a rope into some roof passages, but after
a while concluded that this was the wrong route and so we all dispersed to look
for way mrkers and the route on, By the time the correct rassage hnd been found
we had occupied at least an hour or more in scouting operations. We draped down
into the water and waded and climbed various boulder falls until we entered the
Grand Canyon, reainiscent of'Go Faster’ passage in Dan yr Ogof but much loftier.

We marched along the pebble bedded streamvay for over a kilometre, an exhilerating
and most enjoyable part of our journey, until boulders blocked our progress again,

y memories of the exit from the Grand Canyon are vague, but ve clinbed a 40 ft
pitch on electron ladder left in as fixed nid to enter a smaller upper series
of some complexity. We came to another pitch rigged with an ancient piece of
electron ladder with most of the rungs missing. Andy and Jean-Francois had quite
n few problems in climbing up as the hanger at the top wes lcose. The rest of
us struggled up with the benefit of Andy holding the bolt for ust Since this
obstacle was time consuming Bill took the opportunity for a nap. He had worked
hard at the navigation during the flight and tiredneas was beginning to catch up
on him. Me continued nlong a passage, which I recognised from Pierre Minvielle's
book of the "Hundred best trips in France", with potholes filled with water to
traverse over or jump ncross. After several climbs we eventually chinneyed down
to the Canals.

Michel had been carrying » rubber dinghy for this eventuality and he soon had it
unpacked and inflated, lHovever, ve vetsuited Britons had no need of such devices
and explored shead to find we could keep dry above the vaist by using handholes

on the valls and only « modicum of floundering. This was good news for the French
as they could keep dry in their 'pontonieres' and use the dinghy to ferry the
tackle bags. Andy, Pill ond I eeted as ferrywisters und mde good procress forvards

M.
until we came to the Tunnel of the Wind, where ve had to unload half of the tags
as the roof was too low. In addition, the water becane deeper and there was a
sharp bend in the passage. Venturing onvards in the icy water, vith a howling
gale whistling in our ears with such ferocity that our laups extinguished, we
struggled with the dinghy using traverse lines in the roof to pull ourselves
along. After about a hundred yards we came toa rocky island where we could see
an enlargement. ahend. Here we unloaded the tackle bags and Andy bravely set off
beek to collect the rest, whilst %il1 and I humped the firat loads on to dry land
ina massive chamber. Andy was soon back again with the rest of the bogs and
thon even more heroically he returned with the dinghy for the others to use as
life support. We discovered that the 'pontenieres’ were not so effective as
bouyancy aids! Gilbert's rontonieres let in water and he froze to the mrrov,
Gilles got a soaking too, so vetsuite seemed the best after oll.

We assembled on dry land, and soon two gas stoves were rouring away under billies
of water as those with dry clothes availible got changed. I opened ny tackle bag,
removed the polythene tags éf dry Danarts and boiler suit, happily intact, and
stripped off my wetsuit. Using the legs of the cotton boilersuit to dry myself

I soon warmed up and the final luxury of dry pants, Damart vest and longjohns

unas indeseritable, The warn glow suffused my chilly limbs and once fully kitted
cut my thoughts turned to food. Michel imd provided enough sustenance for a
seiget Whilst my 'Bolino' micaroni and mince cooked, T ate some cheese, pate

and nuts, washed down with lemonade. The hot 'Bolino' was delicious and «fter
polishing it all off I helped Gilbert finish off his soup With chocolate and
dried fruit to follow it was a veritable banquet. Anyway, it filled the energy
fap of nine or ten hours continuous caving.

whe changing, cooking and feasting took some time, and everyone perked up althougl:
3ill and Andy with no dry clothes to change into were Shivering uncomfortably at
the ond, They were clad when our caravanserai moved on again, The galleries we
entered were of the enormous dimensions associated with the PSM and ve soon
heated up with the exercise of rapid valking and scrambling on the trail of the
res route-markers. Soon a rope pitch upwards confronted us. Using arcenders
for protection we free climbed, hauling the tackle bags after us. I ascended
last and of course tie finvl tackle tag got stuck, so I had to use up precious
energy to descend nnd retrieve them. We were now in the conplex of the Salle
Navarre where Michel navigated adroitly so that in a short time ve were at the
top of the rubble heap below the Lepineux siaft.

It was four years since I had visited this region of the cave, and as I slithered
jown the scree slope towards Louben's tomb, I noticed tint Michel and Gilbert
ere standing exactly where'I had photographed then all that time ago. The
tineless atmosphere was unchanged, and the swoky lettering on the now empty tomb
still proclaimed its eternal uessage. I hac that eerie fecling of deja vu and
uendered if I vould ever be destined to pass thie way ngain. My reverie was
broken by the general novenent and bustle of our group tovards the exit. The
next section was through an onorwous boulder ruckle, equipped with 2 handline
‘through the dangerously loose areas. A small hole through ominously poised
boulders necessitated a firm hold on the rope to avoid clutching a eatastronhe.
One by one we carefully lowered ourselves through the blocks and filed along the
Elizabeta Casteret chamber and on into the Loubens cave.

By now, nlthough our tackle bags were biting into our shoulders ani our lepa
oecoming leaden, we were on familiar ground and made good progress so that ve
were soon in the vast gallery of the Metro. We took the lefthand wall with the

torrent on our “*,"+,and after a short pause to regroup marched on along » well
beaten track and then on over the boulders inte the Queffelee Chamber. Here
Ndehel, Bill and I, who were in the rear, took a wrong turn lending to a high

12.
route where we temporarily lost sight of the others. We eventually regained the
main route however and caught then up as they vere cravling over the ledge past
the pool guarding the Salle Chevalier.

‘The Salle Chevalier is indeseritably enormous and as we traversed it along the
right land wall we continually were amazed by the grandeur. Our mth Iny along

a series of narroy ledges, very loose in places with a steep, occasionally
vertical drop to the stream below. As we progressed along the chamber the stream
became lost in the deep blackness below us and eventually we reached a constriction
caused by a boulder f11 where ve hnd to take off our packs and eravl,

We emerged into tie monstrous blackness of La Verna, the largest underground
cavity in the Western World, In several places we stopped to gaze inte the void
and to try and pick out the Aranzadi Wall on the other side, but we wore falling
behind ond had to keer moving. Soon ve reached the EDF tunnel, easily located
by a fenced pathway and steps nbave the abyss below. The tunnel cut by the EDF
still had railvay lines in an Bill tried to balance on these to keep his feet
ary as he had no other shoes to wear. In places the roof timbers vere in = state
of collapse and in one place Bill trod in a deep puddle with resultant expletives
sufficient to effect a complete roof failure, llovever, the sundane tunnels soon
ended and before long we stood before the final doors, deafened by the vind
roaring out through the cracks. As we edged through, the vind ble us out inte
the midnight air.

In the enbin nenr the entrance ve could see the flicker of firelight, and could
we believe it, smell cocking! Two heroes of the Ziloko, man and wife, bad driven
up to the cabin, lit a log fire, and cooked soup for us. ‘hat comradeshipt We
sot curselves down on the wooden benches and slurped up the hot chicken noodle
soup so generously provided and our legs tingled with relief after the long wali.

7 hill found an old mattress in the corner and fell asleep. 4 brief rest and some
Gosultory conversation and the finalwalk to St. Engrfice had to be faced. I knew
that it vould take at least an hour from my previous trip, and thot was in daylight.
Bill could not be roused so Andy, Jean-Francois and I started off downhill leaving
the others to get their boots back on and drag Bill out of bed.

The route downhill vac along a well worn track, and ve passed the van used by the
Ziloko aembers vho had lit the fire for us. My lamp suddenly went out, and in
fixing it I fell behind the other tvo who were moving ata fast pace, From then

on I did not manage to catch up with then and I trudged on as fast as I could,
ching 1 glimpse of their Lights as the track twisted and turned along the
hillside and in amongst the trees. As we neared St. Engrace I shouted them, as
Ikney 2 shorteut wiich branched off directly down through the scrubby open ground

i the cottom of the hill. They waited for se and ve stumbled down until we reached
» strenm With s wooden bridge over it which I remenbered from previously. Soon

ue vere on the netalled road leading up to St. Engrce and we found Michel's car
perked ino layby at the bottom of the steep hill, Peering through the windows

ue could see our ery clothes, toilet gear and sleeping Ings inside, but coarch as

t vas impossible to find the key to get access to them. We decided to

rry on up to the Gite @'Btave and wait there for Michel. Once more our legs

eve yoaded inte action, but nine vould not go as well an those of Any and
Jean-Francois and halfway up I just had to stop and have = sit down. 4 fey ainutes
rest and I felt slightly refreshed (we had been walking for over an hour now) ant
yde ay vey steadily up to the village where the lights were on in the bunkhou:
ani I could see Andy citting in the porch,

Outeide the hotel was a tap, and so thirsty was I that I turned it on and took the full
bore in ay mouth, regardless of potential tumay bugs and the large slug hunched
on the pipe below. We had caused something of a commotion as there seened to be

13,

a busload of schoolgirls inside and their giggling and chattering seemed quite
incongrous. Luckily our bunks were upstairs. Andy and I sat and waited and soon
the van appeared bearing 3i11, who had cadged o lift downhill, followed shortly
by 1 with our clothes. Hot shovers were available so we could now renove
the last of our sweaty clothes and clean ourselves up, With little ceremony ve
11 found bunkapace and were soon fast asleep in our sleeping tags, oblivious to
the vorld for a while,

No one stirred until at least 9 am. and then we went to the bar next door to buy
treakfast. I was amazed to find that I was not at all stiff, especially ac ay

legs iad felt so tired at the end, but maybe summer in the Jura had given me nore
stanina than I thought possible. "Café complet" came and we sat around the tables
on the terrace outside the tar, just across the road from the squat Pyrenenn church,
and ate rolls and jam whilst the conversation flowed. Our traversee had taken about
14 hours altogether and ve exchanged views on the various events that ind taken
Place. Believe it or not, but ve actually started to plan what to do next sumer!
Jean-Francois had traversed the Réseau Trombé, which wae my next target, and we
started to discuss possibilities, The tine flashed past and we wore suddenly
reninded that if ve wanted to get back to Biggin Hill, then we should leave "dés que
possible."

Our farewells took some tine as only Jean-Gilles vas coming back with us in Michel's
car, and we woulé not see the others for some time; if ever again. Our companionship
and common bond had forged a vellknit team and the ambiance that Ind developed unas

a pleasure not to be relinquished easily. Bags packed, boots closed, we shut the
car doors and ina flurry of squawking chickens drove off en route for Issor again.
On the way we passed Ruben Gomez house and called to see him but he was out, so

on ve went, Michel and I speaking French in the front with cross talk to Jean-Gilles
and a mixture fron Andy and Bill. Soon we svept up the bill and on to the drive of
1el's house.

Anni hed prepared an excellent lunch for us, and once again we were overwhelmed
with the French hospitality. Before ve could eat, hovever, out cane the bathroom
scales and Bill weighed himself, Andy, Ron, and ne and all of our fear. I think

I bed put on weight! Ron and Bill were rather concerned about the short bumpy
runway at Oleron, and did lots of calculations on fag packets and chocolate
wraprers. The rest of us sat down to lunch, facing the view across the Pyrenees
and sad at the imminent departure, We had to go at last, and Hichel helped us

to load the car for the final ride to the airstrip. We said goodbye to Anni and
the children, to Jean-Paul and his family, and to Jean-Gilles, then Michel drove
us axay down the stesp Pyrenean lanes to our waiting aeroplane. Flight checks
completed, Ron discovered the fuel tanks vere nearly empty so ve “pau wld be OK.
for lift off provided we could make a fuel stop soon rama
plane claved its way into the sky, and after a circle to wa eens to Michel,
kon set course for Pau airport using the navigation beacons on automtic direction
finding. After all our physical and emotional excereise, here we vere once more
encased in modern technology.

ur landing and refueling at Pau was trouble frec and with a good tail wind ve
reacted Deauville in three hours, Andy and I drowsing in the back for most of the
ways On the ground we bought our duty frees, refueled and had afternoon tea before
takeoff, Soon ve ucre airborne again, over the Channel and in a remrkably short
time landing at Biggin Hiill ina welter of Sunday fliers.

The English Customs were quite meticulous, Our plane vas emptied of tags and
inspected, and they looked in our tackle bags. My stinking wetsuit was sufficient

ve ‘cing. Tired, slightly dazed
‘epellant, however, to prevent a complete unmacl T
By oie activities, we strolled into the bar for a few beers and for Ron to
complete his flight log. Our trip toe the Pyrenees was over as quickly as it

bod begun.

John Gillett. 20/10/54

Come on - aduit itr =
lave you got personal problems ?

es vater rush up your dry suit legs aggravating the situation ?

our problem is that you have skinny legs |

rere is now an answer thot does not involve countless hours of excercise.
inply glue sone 3-4" strips of stiff plastic inside the leg of your welly.
fou can now rut elastic lands, worn outeide your vellies, over your oversutt
creating a reasonably watertight seal. Happy wading.

= P. Ton.

AND THE LATEST FROM PETS TON,...."Self balers for wollies"!!! Having

stopped water getting into your wellies (see elsewhere in this issue)how
can you get it out when it gets down your neck etc.,..use a hot 6" nail
to melt a hole near tho ankle then fit a tight 12 "band from an inner tube

over it pany water can then leek thro' the "valve" or for a rapid drain

move the rubber band 11! DIAGRAM ON REQUEST ,,SEND S.A.E.

R/ SURVIVAL

have been numerous reports of woodeutters storing a small lint banda,
DE THEIR HELMETS and coming to grief when falling tinber, landing on their
Gy causes the bandage to immle itself in their skull. “Imigine then, a
‘kfall underground with your Mare & survival bag smugly fitted inside your
et. In future, these should go inside an ammo box or SRT ing,

LIN.

+_Report on our atteapts at removing Oxlow from the map is imnossible
6t They seem to be discussing it rather nore than necessary vhich outlines
ht agenda.

15,