Part 4

Caves are formed in calcareous strata by the chemical action of water laden with carbonic acid, and by the mechanical action of streams. In consequence of the original structure of the Limestone, the joints of which run at right angles to the bedding planes, these eroded hollows have two dominant forms: the vertical pot, swallet, or hole, produced by the widening of a master-joint; and the horizontal water-channel, running in the same direction as the line of stratification. But the strata being commonly tilted, these pits and abysses are often a long way out of the vertical, and the caverns that follow the strata very steep. Many of these ancient watercourses are now dry, but others are still traversed by streams, and present the explorer with most formidable obstacles. The complete exploration of any cave system would involve the tracing out of all its passages from the point where the stream or streams enter the earth to the point of exit. But I know not a single instance where such a task has been worked out in its entirety. In many cases the streams enter the ground merely as small rivulets, and begin to excavate passages practicable to man only at a considerable depth. "Siphons," or traps, as they ought to be called, complete or partial chokes, and a variety of other causes, may put insuperable obstacles in the explorer's way.

Take two of the most important cave problems still awaiting solution, one in Yorkshire, the other in Somerset. A large beck is precipitated into the abyss of Gaping Ghyll, 360 feet deep, and emerges from an opening in the hillside, a mile away, close to the mouth of Ingleborough Cave, which was itself an earlier exit. Several parties have descended Gaping Ghyll, and followed the passages at the bottom to a distance of more than 1000 feet. Then impenetrable water-sinks, and muddy chambers with no outlet, have been encountered, and the communication with the lower cavern has hitherto proved undiscoverable. Both the dry galleries and the canals of Ingleborough Cave have been explored, with great toil and daring, to a considerable distance upwards, with similar results; and though many speleologists are still absorbed in this problem, there is little hope that it will be cleared up without adopting the drastic and costly measure of cutting through the obstructions. The other problem is that of Wookey Hole, the cave in Britain which has the longest history, and which is still yielding interesting discoveries. A number of streams disappear into the earth on the Mendip plateau, 2 miles away and 700 feet above, and find their issue in the source of the Axe at Wookey Hole. Two of the Mendip swallets have been explored to a great depth. Swildon's Hole, an exquisite series of terraced galleries and stalactite grottoes, has been penetrated to a depth of 300 feet. But a more determined attempt has been made to reach the bottom of the Eastwater Cavern. This was discovered in 1902 by my friend Mr. Balch, of Wells, by means of opening the swallet, where a tiny brook ran away through small crevices in a Limestone ravine. A far-extending cave was thus disclosed, full of intricate ramifications, that explain in a graphic manner how new galleries are formed and old ones left dry and deserted, as the result of floods and partial chokes. We have, in the longest route discovered in this complicated system, reached a distance of 2000 feet from the entrance and a depth below the surface of 500 feet. At this point no absolutely impassable barrier has been met with. There is reason to hope that we may still advance farther into the mysterious region between it and Wookey Hole. But the formidable difficulties of the journey hither have set a limit to endurance. Hundreds of feet of creeping through steep, narrow, and contorted passages, compared with which a series of drain-pipes would afford luxurious travelling; perpendicular drops of 50 and 90 feet, with no convenient ledges at the top for letting men down; and, in addition, the necessity of transporting great quantities of tackle to the bitter end of it, have made a twelve hours' day underground as much as we could stand. The difficulty may perhaps be got over by means of a subterranean bivouac. Unfortunately, it would not do to leave the apparatus in position for long beforehand, as it would deteriorate so rapidly. In Wookey Hole itself, we have not yet succeeded in reaching a farther distance than 600 feet from the cave mouth; there a submerged tunnel has stood in the way. But Mr. Balch has thoroughly explored the upper passages that honeycomb the rock above the known caves; he has discovered a number of promising galleries, which are being slowly cleared of débris; and, among them, a series of the most beautiful incrusted grottoes in Britain. A season of drought may reveal an opening up the river-course.

Innumerable similar problems still await solution. Some of us have been engaged in trying with pick and crowbar to engineer a way into the swallets above Castleton, which send their waters through the heart of the hills down to the caves in the dale of Hope. One of these, which we have penetrated to a distance of 350 feet, may turn out to be the entrance to as wonderful a chain of caverns as those of Eastwater. Long Kin Hole, Helln Pot, and other tremendous cavities in the Ingleborough district, still promise good sport. Of all the varieties of cave forms these vertical holes are the most impressive, and also the most perilous to explore. No exploit stands out more finely in the record of that intrepid explorer, M. Martel, than his single-handed descent into Gaping Ghyll, the first ever accomplished. In the Cevennes, however, he has reached the bottom of abysses still more profound, though without the unpleasant accompaniment of falling water. One of the most awkward of the descents described by him is that of the Aven de Vigne Close (Ardèche), 190 mètres in depth. This strange pit is almost a corkscrew in shape, comprising five perpendicular drops, the bottom of one being a few feet from the top of the next. To manage the final pitch, with a chain of rope ladders 40 mètres too short, it was necessary to get six men down to the "Salle à Manger" at the foot of the fourth stage, others remaining as sentinels at the head of the various stages. Some of these waited on their narrow perches for eleven hours, in the dark, with nothing to do but listen to the distant noises of their comrades at work. One man, hanging at the end of a rope, succeeded single-handed in fastening a pulley to the free end of the second ladder, and so let down the third ladder to the required extent. This critical operation was carried out under grave difficulties, the nerves of the whole party having been shaken a few minutes earlier by the accidental fall of a heavy lamp, which was within an inch of killing the men beneath.

Elden Hole, in the Peak of Derbyshire, a yawning cavity 200 feet deep, with an inner cave 65 feet deeper, has been descended several times recently. On the first occasion, through the inexperience of the party, I had the privilege of spending nine hours in the hole, in a state of uncertainty as to whether it was in the power of the other men to get me out. On the next occasion, we let down a dozen men safely. But there still remains the possibility that excavation might clear up the puzzle as to the connection of Elden Hole with other swallets and caves in the vicinity. The old miners believed that it had communication with the natural chambers in the Speedwell Mine; and that is a problem which will entail exploration in collapsible boats along the flooded levels. The great chasm in the Speedwell, which used to be reputed bottomless, has been proved to be only 90 feet deep. It has an upward extension, in the same steep rake, which has not been climbed, nor its top so much as caught sight of. It attains a height, most probably, of at least 400 feet. That is a problem worthy the mettle of our most skilful cragsmen. In the Blue John Mine, a vertical fissure has been climbed, by a party properly roped up, to the height of 130 feet, between walls splendidly adorned with polished and translucent stalagmite. Ladders may sometimes be rigged up, one above another, to reach hollows in the roof of caves. In this way a handsome grotto was discovered above Peak Cavern. When these vertical fissures are open to the sky, it is a simple matter to fix tackle, and even a windlass, for letting men down. When they open in the floor of a well-nigh impracticable gallery, as in the Eastwater Cavern, the difficulties of securing pulleys and ropes are serious. There our troubles are aggravated by the proximity of deep, gaping chasms at the foot of each pitch, lying in wait to receive falling bodies. Nevertheless, by an ingenious arrangement of life-line and pulley, the entire party gets safely to the bottom of the gulf and back again, although it is usual in such situations to leave a sentry behind at the top. Grandest of all these underground cavities in England is the great chamber of Lamb's Lair, in the Mendips. The approaches and subsidiary chambers of that marvellous cavern are magnificent in the richness of their incrustation and their colouring; but this mighty hall surpasses the rest by far. Floor, walls, and roof, of a dome-shaped chamber 110 feet high, are a mass of sculptured transparencies, fantastic reliefs and glowing enamel, all the colours of the rainbow being produced by the different veins of minerals. Only a strong party of experienced climbers or cave workers, fully equipped, should venture to explore this fine cavern in its present dangerous state.

No chapters in _Les Abîmes_ are more absorbing than those describing the exploration of underground waters. By means of collapsible boats, M. Martel explored the concealed streams that tumble into the canyon of the Ardèche. In 1890-91, M. Mazauric, with enormous toil and considerable danger, traced out the labyrinthine ramifications of the Bonheur at Bramabiau (Gard). The Tindoul de la Vayssière (Aveyron), with its yawning abyss and powerful subterranean torrent, and the Causse de Gramat (Padirac), both entailed the descent of a deep chasm and the navigation of large streams. At Padirac the exploring party made their way in four boats along a river, with frequent portages caused by dykes of stalagmite, and discovered some of the most exquisite and romantic stalactite scenery in the vaults through which the river flows.

As a sport, cave exploring ranks high. The exertion it entails is exceedingly severe. The innumerable obstacles and difficult problems to be faced make incessant demands on our inventiveness, adaptability, and presence of mind. The exposure, the hardships, the dangers that must be encountered, form an admirable discipline. Those who consider these any detraction from the merits of the sport, must condemn, not one sport, but a whole class. Running risks, we must remember, is always foolhardy, but to nullify danger by means of science and skill is an aim worthy of the noblest kinds of sport. It will, of course, be objected that the lack of exhilarating conditions, and of the stimulus of fresh air, deprives the sport of the usual benefits of outdoor games. But the air at the bottom of a cave 100 or more feet deep is usually as pure and sweet, and not seldom as dry, owing to its free circulation, as that on the hills. Then the darkness and the sense of imprisonment, you say, are not conducive to healthy enjoyment. But a cave explorer, enthralled by the manifold interest and excitement of the pastime, will never admit this. The variety of entertainment it affords constitutes a peculiar charm.

Only to judge by the number of climbers that have taken up cave work as a pastime, there must obviously be a natural relation between this sport and rock climbing. Certainly, there are many methods common to the two sports, and the expert cragsman has an immense advantage over others when he takes to cave exploring. But the methods and appliances of the mountaineer are restricted by artificial regulations. There are many things that must not be done, even to enable a climber to ascend an otherwise inaccessible peak or to avoid serious peril. In cave work, on the other hand, the difficulties and dangers are multiplied so formidably by the singular conditions, of which darkness is but one, that such prohibitions would be absurd. When one may be called upon to climb a wall of mud, or a sheet of slippery stalagmite, or to traverse water-swept rocks with an unfathomed pool or swallet underneath, every safeguard must needs be utilised. Any mechanical means of accomplishing, facilitating, or expediting a passage is legitimate in cave work; ropes, pulleys, ladders of rope and wood, windlass, rafts, boats, crowbar, pick, shovel--all these, and an enormous variety of other things, have their place in the cave explorer's equipment.

One might write a volume on the equipment of cave explorers. Hardly any other sport requires so formidable a variety. I must limit myself to a few words. The explorer's dress should be a boiler suit, made all in one piece from neck to heel, and with no pockets or buttons to catch in the jagged Limestone, plenty of both being provided inside. He must renounce any hankering after waterproof garments, the proper precaution against the effects of wet being to wear thick woollen underclothing. His boots should be nailed after the manner of those worn by rock climbers. Candles are the best illuminant, much better than any lamp--acetylene, electric, or other. But a supply of magnesium wire should be carried, with waterproofed matches in water-tight boxes; and a powerful limelight, burning ether instead of hydrogen, for the sake of portability, is a useful auxiliary. Boats have been used in some of the caves in the Peak, in Wookey Hole, and in the cavern of Marble Arch, explored by M. Martel, in Ireland. Plenty of rope--not of the Alpine Club material, but hempen--is necessary, and a few rope ladders often come in handy. The only rule of the game that I should like to insist upon is, that no damage should be done to the beautiful features of a cave. It is a rule observed by every cave explorer worthy of the name. The temptation to acquire specimens must be resisted.

The first thing that the cave explorer, eager for discovery, has to learn, is not to lose himself. In many cases no special precautions are necessary, but if there are numerous bifurcations, specific measures must be adopted. Often it is sufficient to station a hurricane lamp or a good-sized candle at the cross roads; a surer method, but one that is rather troublesome, is to unreel a thread as we advance. Such a cavern as Goatchurch, in Burrington Combe, Somerset, is a perplexing maze, where one loses one's bearings completely two minutes after looking at the compass. The mass of the hill is shivered into innumerable fragments, of giant size. Passages striking off along the fractures often lead one back imperceptibly to the point of divergence. At the Eastwater Cavern, in the same district, after I had already gone four times through the enormous aggregation of shattered rocks at the top, where a human body is like a beetle in a heap of macadam, I tried in vain to make my way out without using the life-line. Although there is but 100 feet of it, one takes half an hour to get through. The original explorers spent a much longer time in discovering a practicable route. For my own part, I was lost in a few moments, and compelled to return. The imprudence of two men in the Bagshawe Cavern, in Derbyshire, who went too far in advance in their anxiety to be discoverers, led to an uncomfortable experience both for them and for their rescuers. This very extensive cavern has a number of ramifications. The two men who were following reached a distant and unexplored part of the cave, only to find that they had missed their comrades, the sand and clay on the cave floor being still perfectly smooth and untrodden. They failed to discover the wanderers in the neighbouring passages, and lost their own way for a time before they got back, through the winding tunnels, low-roofed fissures, and deep canals, crawling, scrambling, and wading breast-deep through icy water, to the place where they had parted. They hoped the truants had found their way back, but there was no sign of them, and preparations had to be made for a second journey. After a fatiguing quest, that lasted several hours, they found the missing adventurers in a remote part of the cavern, nursing their last shred of candle and waiting to be rescued. The experiences of some youthful explorers in Wookey Hole, who found themselves on dangerous ground and all their matches gone, are described on another page.

There is a romance about cave exploring that is almost unrivalled. The conditions of the sport are so weird and exciting, so strangely different from everything we are accustomed to. To be so near to, and yet so far from, the scenes of our everyday life; to be launched on a voyage of discovery on an English river, or to be the first to gaze on some miracle of fantastic crystallisation only a few miles away from a large town--these are among the attractions of the sport, at least in its present stage. There is nothing in this country to compare with the prodigious caves of Kentucky or the terrific subterranean defiles of Adelsberg. One might as well look for the magnificence of the Alps among our English mountains. Yet the caves and gulfs of Derbyshire and Yorkshire have a grandeur of structure and diversity of character, and the Somerset caves a brilliance of crystalline deposits, that are fully as admirable and impressive.

E. A. B.

EXPLORING WOOKEY HOLE

"Where Albion's western hills slope to the sea, There is a cave, and o'er its dismal mouth, Whence come to quick, mysterious ears hoarse sounds Of giant revelry, the ivy grew And shut the old sepulchral darkness in; And by its side a well, whence ever full And ever overflowing, silent, deep, And cold as death, the waters creep Adown the broken rocks in search of day. Above it frowns a fretted, stony brow, And only from the setting sun e'er came Within that place the joyfulness of light."

W. W. SMITH, _Angels and Men_: a Poem.

Hardly anywhere else in Britain is the mind borne down with such a sense of incalculable antiquity as at Wookey Hole. Nowhere, certainly, is there anything like such a continuous record from ages inconceivably remote. To touch first of all upon periods that are historical and measurable, we have the name Wookey, which appears to be the one bestowed by the ancient Britons; for it is a recognisable corruption--especially as the people of the district sound it, "Ookey"--of the Celtic Ogo, a cavern, the same word, Ogof, as the modern Welsh still apply to several caves in the Principality. Clemens Alexandrinus, in the second century A.D., has a reference to the cavern, and there are periodical allusions in Latin and English writers from that time to the present. In the Middle Ages its fame as one of the wonders of England was great. William of Worcester has a quaint description; he says, "Its entrance is narrow, and the ymage of a man stands beside it called the Porter, of whom leave to enter the Hall of Wokey is to be obtained." What became of this janitor is now unknown, unless he be represented by the recumbent monolith still to be seen outside the portal. References to the antiquities of Wookey Hole occur in Leland's _Itinerary_ and in Camden's _Britannia_, and there is incorporated in Percy's _Reliques_ a ballad, by an eighteenth-century virtuoso, Dr. Harrington of Bath, entitled "The Witch of Wokey," recounting an old legend of the neighbourhood.

"In aunciente dayes, tradition showes, A base and wicked elfe arose The Witch of Wokey hight."

So it begins, and goes on to relate, in the sham antique style of the day, how a malevolent old woman was for her misdeeds changed to stone by a "lerned clerk of Glaston." The Witch, a black, aquiline profile in stone and stalagmite, is with her culinary utensils the chief attraction to sightseers in the first great chamber, or, as it is sometimes called, the Witch's Kitchen.

It is impressive enough to stand beside the very modern-looking paper-mill, where the infant Axe, still dazzled by its sudden entry into the sunlight, is harnessed to assist in the manufacture of such workaday commodities as Bank-note paper, and to see before one things that carry the memory back all those stages; yet it is but the last few pages of the voluminous history that we are considering now. Professor Boyd Dawkins, who won his spurs as a palæontologist by his researches at Wookey Hole, discovered in the neighbouring Hyæna Den, which is really a branch of the old cavern, human and animal remains whose antiquity, compared with the periods just reviewed, is as the age of Stonehenge compared with that of a man. In the less known passages of the Hole itself, such relics have constantly been found in the course of our investigations. Potsherds, celts, bone implements, the carbonised embers from ancient hearths, all sorts of refuse lying in odd corners, have continually brought us, as it were, face to face with the time when man was little more than the king of beasts. Whosoever would read in the deeper chapters of this vast chronicle must be referred to the fascinating pages of _Cave Hunting_; there will be only an occasional glance at the human history in this record of a different class of exploration. Palæontological research has not been our object. Several of my companions have made some valuable discoveries in this line, and are intent on making more; but my own original motive, and that of several others, was the sport, as much as the scientific results, to be enjoyed in endeavouring to work out the great problem of the waters that have made themselves a road through the underworld of Mendip, and found an escape from bondage at Wookey Hole. This cavern has been known so long and so familiarly, that it must have seemed as if there were nothing more to be found out about it. It will, surely, be a surprise to many to learn what important additions have recently been made to the extent of its known and accessible passages, and what progress there has been in explaining the secrets of its water system. We are, in all probability, on the brink of yet more startling revelations.

Drayton complained, in "Polyolbion," that the renown of the Devil's Hole in the Peak of Derbyshire, then as in the present day, had robbed the Somersetshire cave of some of its glory.

"Yet Ochy's dreadful Hole still held herself disgrac'd With th' wonders of this Isle that she should not be plac'd: But that which vex'd her most, was that the Peakish Cave Before her darksome self such dignity should have."