Team: Jim, Rob, Jon, Luke, Vic, Hal, Lexi, Dylan, Bob, Dave, Ernie, Miriam
This weekend saw a big team assemble at the YSS hut in Helwith Bridge for the kind of weekend that makes being in a club like the Eldon worth it…
I’d missed the previous Yorkshire weekend due to an unavoidable pre-lockdown commitment inevitably being rescheduled for the only weekend in the year when I’d really rather be somewhere else, so I was determined to make the most of it. To that end I’d rearranged my Friday off packed early and set off to the Dales at lunchtime to give myself plenty of time to arrive. I also seem to have been thinking in a parallel universe that week, or at least had forgotten what an Eldon weekend was all about, as I had intentions of taking advantage of the peace, relaxing in a cosy hut and even doing some study… more on that later.
Friday Night
Upon arrival I had a scout about the place and picked the biggest bunk in the least smelly room, and shortly after caught sight of two skinny old men outside, none other than Bob Toogood and Dave Gledhill… henceforth my plans to relax/study were replaced with a couple of hours drinking tea and chatting before an early trip to the pub for tea. Eventually assorted reprobates started turning up at the pub and we were soon a full complement of Eldon cavers there for the weekend, and all headed back to the YSS for the compulsory drinking and banter.
In my parallel universe I’d decided it’d be freezing in a hut in October, so to ensure maximum comfort through the night I’d packed my Christmas pyjamas and furry boots, which I duly changed into as soon as possible in the interests of maximum efficiency at bedtime. Amongst friends I had no problem sitting there looking like an oversized hairy toddler.. but not long after that the door was kicked open and in swaggered what turned out to be Glasgow Uni’s answer to Bruce Lee, followed by 15 of his fellow students. At that point I began to regret my sartorial choices, but stayed put and styled it out…
Being a caving hut, within seconds the lounge turned into party central / a sauna / the Tower of Babel with nigh on 30 people boozing and shouting at each other, and GUPA’s squeeze machine made an appearance. As I wasn’t drinking I was way past when I would normally be asleep so retired to the bunk for a boiling hot attempt at sleep, the regular sounds of cheering breaking through my earplugs. Reports the next morning revealed that the trick to success in the squeeze machine is nakedness and liberal amounts of washing up liquid…
Saturday
A late start was of course on the cards today after what turned out to be an 0400 bedtime for most. Jon had brought huge quantities of food and rustled up a superb breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages and beans and over this and plenty of brews, we discussed the day ahead, settling on Alum Pot as the objective. One team to rig route(s) in the shakehole, another to tackle the Long Churn route to the balcony. It was a glorious day as we kitted up on the track so we were in no rush, but eventually we began the stroll up the hill, where Rob, Luke and I headed over to the top of the hole to seek out the belay tree and the others continued to the Long Churn entrance.
A likely looking tree full of 6” nails was identified by Rob as definitely the right one, on account of the nest of rusty nails being the right place for the rope to get an optimum hang. I tied the rope on, backing it up to one behind, and then noticed that Luke was no longer wearing EPC’s latest essential equipment acquisition, the ‘SRT Dildo’ after I’d less-than-sneakily clipped it to his harness earlier. He’d managed a far sneakier job than I had, and it was dangling from my harness ready for deployment when needed.
The abseil into the hole is amazing. I took my time slowly taking in this massive space filled with the noise and spray of falling water, covered in greenery and lit by daylight right to the bottom. From the ledge below ‘the bridge’, I looked up to observe a tiny Rob now rigging down the airy NW route and continued to rig the handline, placing Luke and I searching for the next P bolts at the end of the bridge, but quite clearly out of rope for any further descent. Fortunately Rob wasn’t too long in appearing opposite our stance, so he was able to swing over to us where we dragged him onto terra firma and were able to use his remaining rope for the drop to the bottom.
I’m not sure what I expected down here, other than not much given the agreement to ‘go and visit the sump’ but whatever it was, what I actually got was way better than I’d have imagined – an enormous roofed canyon with water crashing into it and a mega climb down towards the sump, above which Diccan Pot crashed water down. The whole place was alive and just awesome.
By this time it was clear that some of the ‘churnettes’ were beginning to cool down a bit more than was good for anyone so a bit of regrouping took place and I headed back to Rob’s rope to make the least technical exit and get round to the other rope to be on hand to offer any support needed to those navigating the rebelay and exit off the top of the pitch. It didn’t look too far from ledge (the rope is now belayed at the opposite side to where descent started, remember) but jumping off felt a tad counterintuitive so I got my jammers on, sat down on the ledge and shuffled myself forward until gravity took over and whooooa! Flew through the air in an exhilarating swing where the rebelayed rope slowed me down just before I reached the opposite wall. Just fantastic! I got my wild swinging under control and started prusiking, all the while within spitting distance of the guys on the balcony but not really able to chat, although it felt like I could, over the sound of water. So I just cracked on, making rapid progress and feeling really glad I’d found my Pantin in the bottom of my kit just as I put it away.
It was a long way up and as the comforting bounce in the rope stopped, I looked around and felt like I was in the middle of nowhere, just me and my jammers holding me way up in the air on a tiny 10mm rope. Momentarily feeling really exposed and slightly unnerved, I reasoned that this far up the rope wasn’t any different to the place I was 10m ago, and relaxed back into the rhythm. I was soon at the bolts, just one quick movement to shift my Turbochest onto the next strand was needed so I stood up and released the cam… with the rope now detached the ridiculous plastic zip pull that forms the release tab on that ascender decided to protest and snapped off, unbalancing me as it did. I had a futile attempt at hanging on and doing a one arm pull up before gravity took over and I gently let myself hang on a cowstail. Laughing at the momentary panic and the ease by which I managed the manoeuvre, I reached the top and ran round the shakehole just in time to see Miriam at the rebelay. No support needed, she joined me at the top, closely followed by Vic, and we made our way back to the truck to dekit and wait for the others. Before we could get changed attention turned to a now very cold Lexi with a very stiff D maillon that I struggled to undo, but eventually we had her out of wet kit, in my Buffalo and another jacket, and in the warm car. After an age, during which Dylan made friends with some inquisitive calves, the others joined us and we headed off to the hut.
The 12 of us occupied most of the room and the food was ace, and welcome after a fantastic day out caving. The literal icing on the cake appeared when the landlady brought a massive chocolate cake, complete with candle and Petzl helmet decoration, to our table – it turned out to be Hal’s birthday, and was Bob’s the day after.
Sunday
A slightly earlier start with fewer sore heads, Jon once again did the business with an excellent fry-up and the keen amongst us headed to Horton for a trip into Sell Gill. It was such a glorious day as we walked up the track to the cave, and whilst Dave rigged we lounged in the sun for a bit before making for the entrance. I was smitten with the cave before we’d even got in it, the lovely open entrance gulley just had a lovely feel to it, but the best was yet to come.
Having entered via the dry route, the wet route into the cave was thundering down into a huge chamber creating a wind that literally took my breath away. I took big gulps of forced air and couldn’t not laugh and feel overjoyed at being in such a fantastic place.
We all climbed down the slope and had a crawl into the short wet bit, inevitably sumped after not far at all, before turning round. Hal took great care of the SRT Dildo on the way out, and Jon, Rob and I hung around for a while whilst I posed for Jon in various places en route. The prusik out was uneventful and after a short while we were back out in glorious Dales sunshine and heading back to the car park whilst Kestrels hovered overhead. Jon pointed out the various landforms in the distance.
A quick change, a bit of repacking of kit to make it all fit into my now, seemingly tiny, van and we were on our way home to Derbyshire.
All photos by Rob Eavis