I have just returned from my second trip to West Virginia and I believe now that I have earned the right to make a couple of observations about my very limited caving experiences and my fellow cavers.
I joined CCG about one year ago after hearing from member Garth Varian, all the wonderful things he had seen and all the adventures that the caves provided.
Like all real cavers, he never gave a true description of what occurred in the cave. His versions were always of wonderful formations, exciting explorations, and glorious experiences.
After having been a member of CCG for about a year I feel that it is time to give a true description of what occurs while caving. After all, I have progressed from the title of “Newbie” to the rather exalted title of “Wimp.” I have to say that I earned that title in this last West Virginia trip, and I’m not going to give it up easily.
I have to first explain that I am a 54 year man who has always sought a certain level of comfort in my life. My goal has always been to get MORE comfortable as I progressed. At this point in my life, Motel 6 is roughing it. I prefer the Hyatt with room service.
So imagine my surprise upon beginning caving….
The first easily recognized trait of all cavers is that no one tells the truth about the cave you’re about to enter. Here’s a typical conversation between me and any other caver:
Me: “Is it cold?”
Caver: “Not bad”
Me: “Is it wet?”
Caver: “It might be a little damp.”
Me: “How far are we going today?”
Caver: “Don’t really know.”
Me: “How long is the cave?”
Caver: “Not too long.”
Me: “Is it horizontal?”
Caver: “You might want to bring vertical gear.”
Me: “How far is the cave from the parking area?”
Caver: “A little hike.”
Me: “Big passages?”
Caver: “I little of everything.”
Me: “So nothing bad?”
Caver: “Might be sketchy in parts.”
Now from that limited conversation I originally understood the cave to be warm, dry, and able to be completely seen at a leisurely walking pace in 1-2 hours. I probably won’t even need polypro.
I now know that the description above actually means: It’s the coldest cave in the area, there is a pass-through sump in the driest season, and expect to spend at least 8 hours completely lost following persons that seem to be trying to kill me. I won’t even go into what the word “sketchy” means to cavers, but “be prepared to take off the neoprene and exhale in the last squeeze.” Then, completely wet, with frozen hands and feet, you will have to make three ascensions to the surface. Then the truly life threatening situation begins. You have to change out of wet, cold gear before it freezes solid on your body, because some caver thought it would be a good idea to go caving on a 10 degree day with a -2 degree wind-chill. Then the 1 mile walk over wind-swept ridges to the car – and, since it takes hours to get everyone out of the cave, you better hope you can find the hidden key to someone’s car before you turn to a complete block of ice.
The second, easily recognized trait of all real cavers is their lack of need for any personal comforts. In a cave, I generally notice that my feet are frozen, my legs are comfortable, my torso is warm, my head is hot, my hands are cold and I’m covered in mud or some other substance. This is not normally acceptable to me or any of my non-caving friends. Certainly I do not want to be in this condition for very long. As a matter of fact, I don’t even want to do something that feels good for 8-10 hours. But to a real caver this is exhilarating – “what a perfect cave for a 14 hour through trip. Too bad the river’s so low!”
Then you return to the WVACS station – another area of “comfort” to a real caver. I was told – “there’s a bunk area with bunks and pads, there’s heat and showers – everything a caver would want.” I arrive and set up my space in the bunk room. Everyone else arrives and I notice that no one sets up in the bunk room. It doesn’t take me long to learn some realities of the station:
1. The bunk room is absolutely packed with spiders.
2. These spiders live on the bunks – just under the springs – right where your head is supposed to go.
3. The springs give off a chorus of sounds upon the slightest movement.
4. No heat makes it down the hallway into the bunk room.
5. The showers have ice cold water – even by caver’s standards – imagine me – if the heater cannot be started.
6. The water heater is very temperamental.
So let me discuss how I earned the title of “Wimp” on this trip to West Virginia. I actually learned the behavior I exhibited in the Litner entrance to McCloug’s cave, the cave where I earned my title, from my 17-lb. Llasa/Bichon dog, Cory. We took him hiking in the New Hampshire mountains, and after a day of hiking, on the way back to camp, he had enough and he sat down – no amount of coaxing would get him to walk any further. I learned from him.
After entering the Litner entrance, I navigated the entrance drop, descended 65’, then made my way and descended an additional 25’ drop over a ledge, negotiated a “squeeze,” dropped another 10’, then negotiated a second, longer contorted “squeeze.” At this point I begin walking through the “dams.” I was up to my knees in ice water, presented with uncounted numbers of hurdles, at the same time bent into an unnatural crouch because the ceiling is only 6’ tall. Did I mention I’m 6’5” tall? Oh- and did I mention – I’ve never ascended in my life and that’s the only way out. After 3 hours of this I remembered Cory. I found a dry place and sat down. No amount of coercing would bring me deeper into the cave. It was that point that the title was bestowed upon me – no doubt, by cavers awed at my presence of mind and rational thinking.
Now you might think that I have given up caving. Not a chance! Although I clearly do not have the fortitude, experience, or nerve of the real cavers, I have experienced what is, for me, incredible adventure. I have seen wonderful formations, I have experienced the excitement and awe of being places relatively few people have been, I have met a great many real cavers and have regaled in their stories of adventure, I have pushed myself beyond my normal limits, and I have definitely succumbed to peer pressure on more than one occasion.
I want to thank the members of CCG that have taught me all that I know about caving, that have slowed and reduced their explorations to accommodate my limitations, and have made me feel welcome as a member. I especially appreciate the title of “Wimp” – which, I’ve been told, is only bestowed upon the most deserving member. Thank you all.
