Cavers: Jess, Steve, Chris, John, Toby, Grace and Victoria
We gathered in the layby for a trip down the aptly named Layby Pot. This was a new one for me, and when I asked Jess what to expect, she cheerfully described it as a typical wet, crawling Derbyshire cave. Excellent.
Chris and John recalled having done the cave many years ago, although quite how many seemed open to interpretation. The plan was a round trip, entering via the pitch entrance and emerging through the oil drum. What could possibly go wrong?
After descending the short, tight entrance pitch, I found John removing his SRT kit. He had already decided he would be returning the way we came, having rather vivid memories of some particularly tight sections near the exit. The rest of us were feeling considerably more optimistic, although perhaps only because we didn't know what was coming.
And so began the crawling.
Initially, being on the smaller side, I made a valiant effort to keep myself off the muddy floor, carefully picking my way along while watching John shift himself through the passage ahead. This ambitious attempt at remaining relatively clean lasted approximately five minutes. Before long, we were all fully committed to the mud, employing an assortment of gymnastic moves.
We snaked our way through the passages, eventually reaching a slightly roomier section where we could regroup, check everyone was happy and prepare ourselves for yet more crawling. There was certainly no shortage of it.
Along the way, we stopped to consult the conservation survey and take a few photographs. Grace had brought her camera too, and despite the difficulties of taking photos while covered in Derbyshire's finest mud, we managed to capture some good shots. There were some lovely formations decorating the ceiling, including pretty curtains, a reminder that even the muddiest of Derbyshire caves can hide some beautiful features.
Eventually, we reached the larger chamber, where we could actually sit upright for a few minutes. A luxury not to be underestimated.
At this point, John announced that he would rather return the way we had come. We were, however, getting close to the exit, and the rest of us encouraged him to continue with us. There were plenty of willing hands, knees and assorted body parts available to assist.
I'm fairly certain John would have preferred to stick to his original plan.
Pressing onwards, we arrived at a wall with a rope hanging down it. None of us had used this rope before, and with nearly everyone still wearing their SRT kits, we decided that we would completely ignore it.
Instead we decided to launch ourselves into an extremely tight slit in the wall in front of us instead.
This required yet another impressive display of underground gymnastics. Various limbs were repositioned, bodies twisted into unlikely shapes, and progress was measured very slowly. I managed to help John through the final section by offering a firmly braced leg to give him the extra momentum he needed.
Once John was in mid thrutch we saw a light from above. Clearly the rope was an easier option hence why someone put it there. Did we change our plan?
Of course not. We'd already committed ourselves to the unnecessarily difficult option, and there was no point spoiling the fun now.
Next came the infamous Cheese Grater.
This delightful obstacle allowed only one person through at a time and involved lying on your back and shimmying beneath a particularly sharp rock flake that seemed to have been positioned specifically to make life difficult for cavers.
Jess positioned herself across the top, bracing herself and directing proceedings while the rest of us attempted to negotiate the obstacle with varying degrees of elegance. Helmets off and make yourself as small as possible.
It took time. Quite a lot of time, actually.
There was plenty of encouragement, a fair amount of patience, and more than a few strategically placed knees and legs to provide assistance. At times, it resembled a particularly cruel exercise designed by someone with a questionable sense of humour.
But one by one, we made it through.
Finally, all that remained was the short, slippery climb out through the oil drum. Compared with what we'd just negotiated, this seemed almost civilised.
And then, one by one, we emerged into the fresh air, absolutely plastered in Derbyshire mud but rather pleased with ourselves.
What struck me most about this trip was just how much we relied on one another. There were sections where an extra hand, a braced knee, some encouragement or simply someone talking you through the next move made all the difference. It's one of the things I love about caving. Underground, working together isn't just a nice idea; sometimes it's the only way you're getting out!
Everyone contributed, everyone helped, and despite the tight squeezes and muddy contortions, we all emerged just fine.
Better still, we were out early enough to make it to the Mechanics for a well-earned pint.
As I approached the bar, looking forward to that particularly inviting first drink, the very first words directed at me were:
"Where have you been?"
The mud certainly told part of the story.
But it didn't begin to tell the whole tale.
Another excellent Tuesday Nighters adventure. Good company, plenty of laughs, some beautiful formations and a reminder that the best bit of caving is often the people you're underground with.
