The previous Friday I’d heard from Baldock of a potential Nettle Pot trip during the TSG Christmas Weekend. Not having a trip of my own at that time, I asked if I could join the group, that being Adam Baldock, Charlie Crossley and Ben Chaddock. Chaddock soon agreed to me joining on and that was that! I was heading down Nettle! As we were all of ULSA, I think putting the report here is appropriate.
We fast forward to the Saturday morning. As mornings go, it felt like a faster one. The fact that the kitchen would be closed at 9:30am saw to that. My breakfast was quite simple, owing to the fact that I’d had not a lot of time to actually prepare myself for the weekend. It consisted of instant soba noodles and coffee, to begin with. Chaddock was meant to be the cook for himself, Charlie and Baldock, but it seemed that he was taking a while to wake up. As 9am approached, Charlie took it upon himself to begin the cooking. I believe it was a standard breakfast with eggs, sausages, etc. Following this I went with George to Peverill Stores to get some more breakfast.
After we’d all that sorted and Chaddock had awoken, we began dealing with the rope. We got together three tackle sacks: two very heavy reds and one lighter blue, which had less rope and a daren drum filled with Baldock’s food. I believe they were some kind of sandwich. I got dressed into my underlayers and we carried our gear to Chaddock’s car, heading off to Nettle Pot! But first we had to drop off the trespass fees at the farmers house! We parked outside and Chaddock went over to the door, waiting for around five minutes but to no avail. Hence, we drove off.
We parked alongside the side of the road, several other caver cars. Behind ours was an open space, where we started our changing. The weather wasn’t as pleasant as we’d have liked, being quite windy and with a fine mist in the air, making the changing a chilly and slightly damp affair! In addition, another caver car came up to park in the gap behind ours and started reversing in towards Charlie, who stood in his socks on a plastic bag in the cars path. I handed him his wellies and he slipped them on, dodging out of the way as we all chuckled with how close the slow moving car was going. After the car had got into the gap, it started reversing again to straighten things out, again nearly getting Charlie! Fortunately we managed to get ourselves sorted without any casualties. I picked up one of the red bags and off we marched. The way took us past the entrance to Oxlow, where we asked those entering there if we were going the right way and fortunately we were. That being said, we still had a little difficulty finding the place. We investigated a few depressions but none seemed to have a pothole in them. After around 10 more minutes of searching, we doubled back along a fence slightly and found it! Heaving the lid open, Charlie began rigging the pitch. It was technically a Y-hang, but it was more a single hang with a back up. This took us down immediately to what may be considered the true pitch head, as we may all sit rather nicely in the entrance bit with no fear of falling. A climb down (which may be descended on rope) leads to another Y-hang, which is where the true pitch starts. Baldock, I believe, climbed down to rig this section and Charlie worriedly told him to please a descender. After rigging we all began to descend.
It’s called the narrows, which is quite true. It’s not however nearly as squeezy as it suggests. Sure, it’s a bit cramped, but it’s of no issue when descending. It was nice and dry, which made the experience quite a bit more pleasant! However I was very aware of the fact that my elbows of my oversuit were completely gone, so whenever I leaned against the rock I could feel the cold of the cave leeching into me like an infection. We soon reached the flats and began our journey to the next pitch head: crumble pot.
The flats, to my memory, was very nice and roomy and it was no difficulty at all reaching the crumble pot pitch head, which had a scaffolding pole fixed in the rock to the side, allowing a back up to the Y-hang that inconspicuously lay in the floor. It didn’t look impressive from there, but it was truly amazing how far down it went. Unfortunately, this was the end of the dry caving. Or at least, the caving where I was dry.
Crumble pot itself is not too bad. A bit tight and a bit drippy, to be sure. The bottom of it led directly into a traverse that then led to the top of Beza shaft. Charlie was behind me for this, Baldock in front of me and Chaddock in front of us all. The traverse itself was very short and I perched on it behind Baldock, clipping myself to the line and yelling up “Rope free” to Charlie after taking off my descender, though after saying that I realised that once Charlie came down, where was he to stand? There was really nowhere. Baldock moved off a bit to crouch at the Y-hang for Beza while I stood more firmly on the traverse, Charlie now happily staying on the rope, though using the walls and the inclined floor to allieviate the harness’ pressure on his legs. Baldock moved off once more and thus so did I, going to the pitch head.
This was a bad idea. It was quite drippy and I had to position myself in such a way that the drippage was minimized. As I was then waiting for Baldock to complete the pitch, I found myself waiting for a good few minutes. I did not hear a very clear call of “Rope free”, but rather a general yell of words. I grabbed the rope and lifted it. Finding it unweighted, I took it as a “Rope free” and began my descent. Thus began the worst pitch of the trip. It was tight like the narrows were, but quite a bit smoother. This was due to the film of water than was flowing across it and the drizzling rain that came down from above. A thoroughly unpleasant experience, I was at least glad that I was going down it and not up it at this moment. This being said, I would need to go up it. I tried not to think about that. There were in addition several deviations. In such a cramped, wet space these were quite a frustration! Not any technical challenge, but they prolonged the pitch quite a bit. What’s more is that I don’t think they ever took me out of the water! Sometimes it seemed like they were dragging me into it!
Eventually we did reach the bottom and were out of the water. An absolute godsend. This was the Shakes. There was then a section with an in-situ rope and our rope as well that at first seemed like just a normal slope, but according to Baldock soon got descender-worthy, so we all made our way down it with said devices.
At the bottom here there was a nice chamber that on forwards. Baldock had found a small crawl off to the right that he said didn’t really look like anything, so we tried going forwards instead. The path descended a bit to a tight crabwalk that had a small shower of water coming from its ceiling. He said he could squeeze through, but due to its tightness and wetness, it likely wasn’t a good idea. Charlie climbed up to the left to see if there was any way on there, but alas there was not. I decided to take a look back and see if that crawl went anywhere. To be honest, I wasn’t quite in the mood for it. It was likely the cold and wet that I was in that made me unsure, alongside the fact that I’d have to go up that wet ascent again. But not wanting to disappoint my fellows, I crawled with new enthusiasm. Indeed it went! I think there was a way that went straight ahead, but there was also an in-situ rope that led down. The pitch was – as things always are here – a bit tight and awkward, but nothing we couldn’t handle. It was also relatively dry, so nowt to complain about. I descended a short bit and found that it dropped to a stepped slope, where you had to step off on the highest bit. Otherwise the rope quite simply didn’t reach the bottom. I advised Charlie, who was behind me, as such. From here I followed the obvious route on. Some bits looked a bit loose and boulder chokey, but they could simply be avoided. Small sharp holes led to the sound of running water, but they were too sharp and small to go through. After some crawling and scrambling, I came to a smaller chamber where there was a hole that led back on ourselves. Scratched into the stone was an arrow pointing to it. In capital letters, the word “HELL”.
I was not too enchanted by that; Charlie wasn’t either. We’d heard talk of bad air and so an area named after a realm known to be sulfurous wasn’t really high on our list. Thus, we kept going on. I soon popped out into a much bigger chamber! My head out of the crawl, I let out some yelps to test the echo and it was marvellous. I think this was the start of Red River Passage. It led upwards, the calcite a soft cream on the rocks but often turning ruddy, hence the name. We were all careful of where we stepped because we did not want to damage any of it. But it was basically all over. We soon reached the top and came to a big pit on the ground with a traverse around to the left, leading to a crawl down. We believe this was Dratsab. The rocks on the traverse were a bit sketchy, so we kept our footwork careful when making our way across. I took the rear on this, Chaddock just before me. As we crawled, we noted how the rocks were were more loose than before and the cave now had a distinct eggy smell. I wasn’t too keen on continuing and Chaddock had very similar ideas. His were of a more grave concern, as when he was trying to crawl down, a very large boulder just next to him shifted. He did not go further and we both climbed back up. I took a piss into the pit, as it has some water dripping into it already, as we waited for the others, who we expected quite soon.
We were waiting for a while, maybe 10 minutes. Upon returning, Baldock was talking about how he’d never seen so many straws before, how it was a beautiful cave beyond, unlike anything we’d ever seen. He laughed and soon lost the facade, saying it was just more of the same really. Thus, we turned back.
At this point I was good and chilly and so was glad to get moving again, relishing the hopping down Red River Passage. I scrambled through to the Shakes as fast as I could, getting myself to some semblance of warm. I clambered up the slope with my ascenders as back ups and reached the bottom of Beza shaft. This would not be fun in the slightest. Gritting my teeth, mentally and physically, I clipped onto the rope and began my ascent.
This was evil.
It was not too tight, but the prussiking was awkward as hell. It didn’t help that I’d forgotten my pantin. I could only prussik with one foot which itself had to froggy out to the side. Every now and then, to optimise space, I had to switch feet. The water sprinkled onto my oversuit, the wet rock sending cold into my arms whenever they pressed against the walls. Each time I looked up to try and find a more suitable place to position myself, I found myself blinking away the water that splattered on my face and into my eyes, my glasses no good shield it seems. The deviations made nothing easier. As I mentioned before, they sometimes took me into the water. A rotten affair indeed. But eventually I made it out of Beza and I rejoiced only slightly, coming up the slightly more okay Crumble pot.
Reaching the next pitch up, I belted out a few songs as loudly as I could. Vodka Cranberry by Conan Gray and Nerdy prudes must die from Starkid being the main ones. Getting to the top and waiting on the flats, I asked Chaddock when he appeared if I could be given one of the bags. I’d not properly pulled my weight this trip, so it’d be good to do something. He attached it to the rope and up I pulled a red bag, laden with rope. I clipped it to myself and continued on my way.
The rest of the pitches were – at least compared to Crumble and Beza – easy work. Awkward, with alternating froggy-prussiks often occurring, but as it was dry it was much nicer work. The bag didn’t help my efforts but it was only a minor inconvenience. My yells of “Rope free” were quick to yield replies on the rebelays up the pitch, but when I reached the top and gave a nice bellow down, I heard nothing. I yelled again. Still nothing. Okay, maybe he was just taking his time. I set down my bag and waited, singing a bit more. I popped my head out of the top at one point to see what the outside was like. It was very windy, misty and very cold. I immediately slipped back into the cave. I knew I’d get lost pretty fast out there, the visibility being what it was, so I’d have much better chances here.
I should have timed Chaddock on this, but I didn’t. Soon my energy for singing went and I yelled intermittently for Chaddock again. Nothing. I heard nothing. I saw nothing. I pulled on the rope. Nothing. I started doing some dancing to get myself warmed up, but still Chaddock was not appearing. Eventually I made the decision to go down to see what was going on. At the very least, the movement would warm me up. I got down to what I believe was the Sentry Box and got within earshot of Chaddock again. Apparently Charlie had been having some problems with the bags, so Chaddock descended quite some way down to help out. He was coming back and it was all fine. I climbed back up and resumed dancing, though it certainly had a more… erratic tone this time. The coldness was being kept at bay. I wasn’t warming up. Charlie came up next, followed by a singing Baldock, who was having a merry old time. Both the latter two said they were quite warm. Chaddock said he was cold. As for me? My legs were shaking, and not in the fun way. Chaddock was not keen to leave because of how cold it was outside, but me and him eventually did jump out, immediately going on our way to the car. Charlie and Baldock knew their way back, so they’d be fine. Besides, they were much warmer than us. It was around 5pm and dark. We got to the car quickly and I changed in the car, thankful to be out of my wet caving clothes!
Soon Charlie and Baldock joined us and we all in spite of our sufferings relished the trip! It had just the right amount of pain! Baldock and Charlie were taking the train home immediately afterwards, but for Chaddock and I the TSG Christmas meal was only hours away. Hot food and free pints. We couldn’t wait!
P.S.
Ben Chaddock is on record with this comment after the cave: “It’s not that tight, grow up.”