Those present

Paul, George, Tim

An evening trip was organized as compensation to George for the Bagshawe trip being arranged whilst he was unavailable. Driving through the drizzle on a cold dark damp night Tim had the “what am I doing feeling” (usually associated with Digging P7 with the TSG).  

This was taken to a new level when (having met up with George and Paul) we were wandering across field in thick fog with no cave in sight.  Several falls into Peat Bogs later Paul magically found the cave.

Paul then recalled the old entrance and we (and all the ropes, bags and an ammo box) passed through the entrance slot, down the chute whereupon Paul crawled along the wrong bedding (Magnetometer revisited???).  Tim saw some sheep bones at the base of the rift and climbed down.  There was the way on – a low

P8 - Jackpot  (Wed 19 Nov 03)

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bedding barred by sheep bones with flies on!!!

“Not many people have been along there recently” Paul surmised…

A hasty retreat, with all the ropes, bags and an ammo box, was made and the usual entrance tackled.  A refreshing shower later saw us crawling then walking along some splendid streamway.  Both Paul and Tim had both forgotten how much flowstone is in P8.  Paul pointed out where the old

entrance came in and that resulted in much laughter as we realized that it was a usual Paul passage (i.e. small).

At the top of the first pitch Paul rigged the rope (later in the pub he said that he could have put a ladder down – yeah fine if drowning was in the plan!).  The water was roaring down, George (always up for an abseil) enjoyed the cooling nature of the water.

Taking the upper series we really enjoyed looking down 40 foot holes in the floor as we slowly slid towards the edge on smooth flowstone…

Paul rigged the second (upper) pitch then realized that being stood on smooth

sloping flowstone above a 30 foot drop probably did required clipping on after all (next time I’ll pre-warn DCRO).  Paul and Tim descended the pitch looked round the fine chamber and then exited (due to time ticking on).

The first pitch was re-rigged on the traverse to avoid the water – Paul free climbed (hard work) and George and Tim prusiked (easy work).  Idiots leap deposited 3,000 litres of water down each of our backs before a refreshing exit.

Walking across the fields we were greeted by the Police (broken in cars? Trespass? – all this passed through our minds).  No, there had been a report of a car in a field (our lights by mistake?)  The police were very interested in tales of caving and even had a fag break whilst chatting to us.