Team: Jim T, Sam P, Jon P, Dave G
With a free weekend on our collective hands, and an offer of driving from Sam, hasty plans were made for a quick overnighter. Sam, Jon and I headed to Horton after work on Friday night, stopping briefly in Settle where the chip shop was closing and the mushy peas were off the menu.
We met a perpetually available Dave at the Craven PC cottage where it appeared we had the place to ourselves, selected bunks in the fantastic wood-clad bunk room, and settled down for an obligatory brew and chat about the plan for the morning. Being right next door to the Crown, we nipped over for a pint, whereupon we bumped into a couple of cavers walking down from the Sell Gill track.
On entering the pub, the distinctly unwelcoming atmosphere was heightened by the entry of a friendly couple accompanied by two massive fluffy dogs. With no time wasted on mere pleasantries, the landlord simply uttered ‘no dogs’. They attempted to clarify – no dogs in this room or just no dogs. No dogs. Amazingly they reappeared a few moments later minus dogs. We’d felt warmer outside so quickly drained our beers and chose not to spend another 20 quid and retired to the warmth of the cottage. The cavers from earlier appeared so we had a nice chat before hitting the bunks ready for a dawn start and return home the same day.
It was still dark when the alarm went. I hit the snooze and hoped no one else had heard it. A futile exercise as I knew I wouldn’t sleep any more but I was just not quite ready to get out of the cosy cocoon of down yet. Jon settled matters asking if we were in fact getting up to go caving, and without further ado we were dressed, kettle on and Sam did the business with his homegrown sausage butties. Suitably fortified and dawn just lighting up the morning sky, we got ourselves sorted and headed up the track onto the Allotment towards our designated target for the day, the Thornber entrance to Nick Pot.
Such a diminutive entrance to a massive underground chasm, we got on with rigging the first pitch whilst Dave tussled with a harness that appeared to have taken on Escher-esque characteristics. Whichever way he held it, was the wrong and opposite way to the right way for donning. Eventually he had it about his person but I wasn’t convinced. He seemed happy enough and with more cave under his belt than the rest of put together I suspected, would probably be OK.
Sliding into the entrance was a welcome relief from the biting wind on surface. The first awkward pitch head gave way to a nice shaft, landing in a wide bedding full of cobbles and a tiny stream trickling along and guiding us on.
A miniature canyon plunged into a black void, whilst on the left a rigged handline along a ledge appearing to be a mere body width revealed the ‘traverse in the gods’, the exposed way on to the big pitch and looking rather committing at first glance. Once on it, it’s actually massive and not really feeling exposed at all; although I was very grateful to be working along the rope with two cowstails and not having to rig on the sharp end.
It was so exciting to be perched at the next pitch head, this huge shaft top yawning out from the ledge with the stream crashing down into it and no real indication of what awaited in the depths. Jon was already off on the rig and with a rebelay only a few metres below, I was soon following Sam over the edge. Once the first rebelay was passed and the pitch head had faded above, I made my way down in a bubble of darkness and crashing water. 40m of descent, and in spite of the cooling water I could feel the heat radiating off my rack. A wide flaring of the shaft revealed a big Y hang seemingly miles away, although the transfer wasn’t a problem. Soon at the bottom and calling rope free to Dave, we marvelled at the size of the place and did a couple of photos before the warnings in the CNCC guide came true; it was pretty cold!
Jon gave instructions before my ascent, I was to get past the Y hang and ascend until he told me to stop and await Dave’s arrival. Once in position I hung in space observing the pin pricks of light below and watched Dave fly up the rope. Once he was in position Jon bellowed instructions through the spray and I could barely tell what they were but managed to get a few metres higher and illuminate Dave on full power. The flash flashed and flashed again, and after a while Jon was happy and I made tracks to the top. No sooner was I off the rope and a short way along the traverse, Dave appeared behind me so I continued on to the bedding, expecting a quick exit… I hadn’t accounted for Dave being a total racing snake and the rigours of a de-rig however, so I sat for an age in total darkness as my backside got colder. Eventually however we all regrouped and Jon wanted some more photos so Sam and Dave hastened for surface while I hung around on the rope posing. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea but I love the fact that photos now seem to be a standard memento of the trips we do and am always a willing subject.
We surfaced to chilly sunset, and for a fleeting moment the clouds had parted, painting Pen Y Ghent in an amazing, warm light, a band of cloud above shining orange, beneath a bright, huge moon whilst off in the distance a rainbow slit the leaden sky. Utter winter perfection being the crowning glory to what had been an amazing, exhilarating, fun day on the rope from start to finish and made the drive and early start so worthwhile. In minutes the clouds returned and we trudged down the hill as the light faded…