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Post by afrochili on Dec 28, 2006 15:33:35 GMT -5
Celeste and I met at the camping area at Scott Hollow Cave and set our tent up as the rain turned to a drizzle and finally stopped with the onset of the piercing December night air. The local dog named Renegade (or Relentless by some) continued to drop sticks on our feet to play catch. The old mutt would play day or night with any sucker ready to play. He truly was ‘Relentless.’ It wasn’t long before we were pulling the drawstrings tight around our faces and letting the Sandman work his magic. We met with Mike and Pad Dore in the morning at their warm country home. Their home had the quid essential ‘Fresh Eggs’ sign on the door, a large country kitchen, awards that both Pat and Mike have been granted for their service in geology and caving contributions, and Scott Hollow Cave pictures on the wall. We talked caving, geology, mapping, and more speleo-babble. 3D mapping techniques were brought up and I promised to connect other people working on similar projects. Mike gave us a map and a suggested tour in his 28 mile cave system. He gave us a key and we wished him and Pat a warm Happy Holidays. Geared up with cameras, water, food, and too much clothing, we headed to the large house that was built for the entrance. Another party was also gearing up to work on an old lead-climb within the cave. We passed them and entered the house. Unfinished on the inside, the shell of a home has a three story opening from ceiling to the bare floor basement where practice ropes are hung on pulleys. Other unfinished rooms are scattered on different levels, and we headed into the ‘family room’ where lifting a round wood cover in the floor reveals the vertical metal culvert heading down into the depths of Scott Hollow Cave. The high pressure weather system outside forced the cave to suck in the cold air, and we could feel it on our faces as we descended the rebar ladder and our eyes began to adjust to the diminishing light. Once out of the entrance area, the cave provided comforting warmth, and we began to work our way over breakdown in Mastodon Alley. Mastodon Alley is a 30 foot wide, 20-50 foot high passage that dips with the bedrock at an angle of at least 25 degrees, and it continues like this, up and down the huge blocks of breakdown, for a couple thousand feet. The Junction Room has 11 different passages coming into it! We had to choose carefully to find our chosen route. Dropping through a 12 foot climb-down, across some wet rimstone dams, and around a light 15 foot waterfall put us in a stream canyon passage. The stream rushed past us as we marveled at he large speleothems high (~50 feet) above our heads. Soon, the left wall became a vision of Dali-like masterpieces. The gallery consisted of stalactites, stalagmites, long soda straws, columns, and helectites twisting in every direction in colors of deep red-brown and clear-white. On and on, the sculptures became more spectacular. Celeste and I experimented with painting light for photographs using my unusually bright 5 watt LED headlamp and a wide open shudder. The right hand wall, all the while, had a slight gypsum crust with tiny curls and flowers littering its surface; like a graffiti filled subway station in NYC. The canyon opened up to a width of at least 100 feet and a ceiling nearly as high. We eventually turned off into a high lead into the Christmas Tree Passage. The helectites twisted in bizarre, and nearly impossible formations. We continued our onslaught of photographs. Next, we reversed directions heading North with the North-South Stream Passage and followed the stream as it plummeted over small cascades. The canyon continued to narrow and became sinuous from the erosional power of the stream. We followed the stream past the Junction room as it hurdled downward towards the Mystic River, and the breakdown forced us to climb high over the water, traversing up and down steep, mud slick breakdown. The path finally deposited us back down to stream level and the passage opened with a view of the Mystic River. The passage was awesome and massive, and although the river sounded turbulent off in the distance, its current state was placid and reflective. Walking in the downstream direction we heard the voices of the other three in the cave and saw their lights 70-80 feet high above our heads. With the aid of a length of fixed webbing they had climbed the shear wall of the river canyon. They came down and we briefly exchanged stories. They headed out of the cave and Celeste and I decided to ascend the wall to see the Chess Room. One at a time, we climbed the precipitous wall and then sauntered up the slick mud bank. A quick belly crawl brought us into the Chess Room with formations on the floor and ceiling that rivaled Lewis Carol’s Queen’s game. Continuing upstream in Mystic River we came upon a large flowstone dam on the left. The curved walls stood 20 feet high. Water spilled out over the round walls that continued in a huge arc at least 80 feet around. Water poured in from a hole in the wall over a deeply hued flowstone and accumulated in a deep pool. Years ago, I visited this same spot and remember the flowstone light brown in color. It now had a black tone with a distinct smell of cow manure. This appeared to be quite a thick deposit of flowstone in a short amount of time. We continued down the river for a while, drawn by the rumbling sounds of the river as it passed over rocks and breakdown creating small waterfalls. Finally we turned around and headed back towards the surface. On the way up Mastodon Alley, we once again smelled the acetylene of the other party’s old miner’s carbide lamps. At least an hour after the time they should have already been out of the cave, we ran into them heading down the passage that we moved up. They had been unable to find the entrance so Celeste and I lead them out and exited before them while giving the Scott Hollow veteran a bit of due grief. We headed back up the road to our campsite and started a fire to cut the oncoming dawn. The other 24 miles or so of Scott Hollow will have to wait for my next trip.
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Post by afrochili on Dec 28, 2006 8:15:00 GMT -5
Pig Hole, VA 12-24-06
In the back woods of Virginia, over the rolling hills of cow pasture, and over the sounds of banjo picking, you can find yourself at Pig Hole; a deep Virginia classic. Pig Hole allows you to drive to the entrance, which is a 100 foot wide sinkhole that plummets next to cliffs of plush green ferns and into a 115 foot deep canyon. We geared up and gathered our ropes as the locals fired weapons nearby seeming without rationale. It sounded like the Navy battleships in the harbor joining the Boston Symphony Orchestra shooting its canons during the 1812 Overture. I descended next to the rolling shelves of ferns in a free vertical drop. The canyon passage appeared to filter into narrow keyhole mouths at both sides of the breakdown mountain on which we stood. Following the illustrious Monk’s directions, we hiked to the right and into a short crawl. This brought us to a deeper section of the entrance passage with an exceptional view of the entrance skylight, red rope, blue sky, and rich greenery. We then climbed precariously into a window high on the wall of the canyon and dropped into a parallel passage. We climbed over holes, crawled across flowstone, and slid across the slick gray mud slopes to the top of Hess Hollow; a huge flowstone slab with thick columns and speleothems scattered across its surface. The flowstone sloped into 166 feet of thin air. We rigged around a column and I dropped down the side. As water flowed through cracks and collections of flowstone, I continued my descent. Half way down was a breakdown bridge where I found a bad section of my rope. I climbed back up to discuss techniques and tied a knot around the bad section. We both rappelled down to the bottom of Hess Hollow and walked up a slick slope where the cave registry was found. Many bats seemed to be awake in this area which was odd for this time of year. Some were flying around and others in clusters were moving around and singing to one another. Perhaps the unusually warm temperature contributed to the active bats. We had the choice of climbing an overhanging 15 foot pitch or crawling through a tight 15 foot crack to continue to lower parts of the cave. A sleeping bat prevented our climbing so I removed all my vertical gear and attempted the crack to no avail. As chert nodules jabbed at my chest and tailbone, I could move no further. I backed out and Celeste struggled through. I tried again facing the opposite direction without my helmet but my attempts were fruitless. Celeste continued up through the crack and climbed to the opening above dropping a rope and avoiding the sleeping bat. Just beyond was the crevasse leading down to the -400 foot depth mark. We rigged around flowstone columns embedded into the wall and we dropped the rope down the crack. We rappelled between the close, cold walls and dropped another 70 feet to a muddy floor. Celeste continued to a 5 foot waterfall dropping another 30 feet in so in elevation as she continued down the passage, and I headed back up the rope. Soon, Celeste followed and we did a double rope rappel back into the Hess Hollow. We headed back up the 166 foot climb past the breakdown bridge and atop the flowstone. We worked our way out of the cave missing our exit crawl on first glance, and finally reaching my red PMI Talon rope. If you haven’t tried this nylon sheath, polyester core rope, you need to give it a try! Standing atop the rocky steps at the top of the sinkhole, I was reminded of standing atop Neversink with the setting of the rocks and ferns. I hauled the rope up and we left the pasture just as little kids across the globe began to fall asleep early, hoping to wake early and catch a fat man chimneying atop their home fireplace. We enjoyed the Virginia Classic.
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Post by afrochili on Dec 10, 2006 22:02:41 GMT -5
I'm heading over to West Virginia around Greenbrier County and would like some trip suggestions. I'm willing to trade leading some TAG trips for great West Va trip suggestions. Please email me at bsakofsky@gmail.com. Thanks
Fro
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Post by afrochili on Oct 29, 2006 21:56:55 GMT -5
To all who read this! I'm interested in developing some writing skills and better vivid imagery. All criticism and comments are encouraged. Thank you
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Post by afrochili on Oct 23, 2006 20:47:11 GMT -5
Upon returning to the surface after a grueling trip, an infamous Bynum's Caver once stood on the small brick wall by the road, his face long and weary, head slightly tilted to the side, pvc suit in tatters, and all vivacity drained from his body; he remarked, "That cave just made me its bitch." Few have gone before us (Marion O. Smith, Kent Ballew, and Neeld Messler, to name a few), and few will probably follow. Bynum’s will continue deep into Lookout Mountain, pushing further and further to the south and inward towards the west. What is unclear is where the passages will ever, but what is clear is that Bynum’s Cave requires a conditioned caver, one that can withstand endless crawls, tight negotiations, hits like a hockey player, and the mental capacity to push forward when he/she knows what lies behind on the return to the surface. Only one month after Mike Green and I braved the deepest push thus far in Bynum’s, we returned with reinforcements. ACES Brian Sakofsky, Mike Green, Chad Dubuisson Johnny Prouty, Matt Schohl, and Stephen Adcock were joined by Kent Ballew in Chattanooga with enough gear to sustain a deep push trip into Bynum’s Cave. Johnny and I head into the cave first and push and grunted our way to the pit which was previously known to be the back of the cave. Just before reaching it, Mike Green caught up and it wasn’t too long before the rest of the group joined us in the fissure above the pit. We all took a break together and gathered our strengths. Not knowing what we had in store for us, we climbed high above the fissure to what seemed the highest part of the vadose canyon and began to traverse south along the axis of Lookout Mountain. I didn’t take us long to reach the point that Mike Green and I halted our last expedition due to lack of resources. Here, we dropped down a fissure and continued along the sinuous canyon; up and down traversing different levels, and up, over, and through breakdown. Bynum’s tenacity had not wavered. Kent, Mike and I reached the edge of the first real dome-pit and looked down into darkness from a midlevel ledge. With our adrenaline pumping, Kent and I followed Mike down a side lead to the bottom of the 80 foot pit. Rising off the floor, I found the fissure to continue on and continued winding my way into virgin darkness. The cave took a change in character here. The once dry, cracked mud of the abandoned vadose canyon passages gave way to soft, soupy, thick, light colored mud. I took a turn westward into a large dome area. Excited, I called for Kent and Mike to catch up. Mike Green did a daring climb and recounted to us that the passage continues in the westward direction in a series of domes each about 50 feet high. Without bolting gear, we could not fully explore this section so we returned to the south trend. We each began scouring the area, each in leads of our own and I found myself just above the base of the largest dome-pit encountered thus far. I was 20 feet off the floor and a steep mud bank prevented my progress. I traversed the edge and found a negotiable bank in the mud and saw a hole beneath some rocks that I could slide through to the base of the pit. Unfortunately my natural equipment could not fit in between the hole, and I became trapped by the slick mud with the inability to pull myself out from under the large rock I had slid. I called for help and Kent responded by getting Mike Green and my pack straps to help pull me out. The rest of the crew had joined us three at this point, and Stephen and Matt raced back to their packs to get more equipment if necessary. Singing to pass the time before my rescue, I patiently waited as Mike traversed over to me, careful not to touch the large boulder I had slid beneath and provided a webbing loop from pack straps for me to pull myself out. What a precarious position I put myself in, but luckily we worked together and no one was hurt. Mike, Chad, and Johnny slid easily into the pit where they gaze up over 120 feet and also found a gallery of siltsicles. While Chad, Mike, and I continued to explore for another half hour, the others began their return trip. The three of us continued to find domes, but the thick mud that entangled our bodies restricted our movements. I no longer had separate fingers and the mud made my movements lethargic and tiring. I managed to climb into one high dome careful of the slick surfaces and looked up over 100 feet. I found siltsicles over 3 inches high. It was here, deep within the cave, and hours of grueling passage ahead of me that I began to feel tired and sore. We began our slow return, each step and climb precarious with our slick boots and suits. We found our way back to the place where Mike Green and I originally stopped our previous expedition, where we found Stephen and Matt waiting for us. We shared a hot meal and drank plenty of water. Kent and Johnny took off together shortly after our arrival, and it was soon after that the rest of us began the deliberate return. Mike, Stephen, and Matt passed Chad and I while we filtered water at the pit. Our gear was in tatters; knee pads shredded, pack straps pulled, and our suits were ripped. My body began to cramp as I struggled to man handle my pack and we rested more. We rested frequently. Though our progress was slow, we set small goals to reach features within the cave, and we closed the distance to the surface. The water crawls became a relief to the mud and sweat that headed our progress. With grunts or agony, swearing, and a small yelp every now and again from a new bruise or scrape, we found ourselves at the tight entrance crawl. With fresh air not far ahead, we pressed on and joined the others on the surface. With everyone’s efforts, we probably pushed Bynum’s to over a mile in length. The big dome-pit through the multiple limestones and shale layers is still undiscovered, and the end of the cave may never be found. A survey of Bynum’s Cave could prove to be one of the most difficult and grueling current surveys in TAG. Sitting here beat, sore, and broken, I once again fear my next trip into the cave.
Fro
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Post by afrochili on Oct 23, 2006 20:45:52 GMT -5
We've all experienced talking to someone who doesn't cave and their response to our stories is "I could never do that, I'm too claustrophobic." Our response is usually something along the lines of (except if you're Panama Red), "Oh, but we wouldn't stick you into a small, tight caves on your first trip or two. We ease you into it." Bynum's is one of those caves that we all would avoid bringing anyone who we would want to have interest in caving after their trip. So here I am, able to move for about ten minutes at a time before collapsing on my tired and aching body; rest my head against a cool rock and catch my breath. I'm crawling forward with my arms outstretched in front of me, arms useless, head stuck to the side, and my body pinned on all four sides. The only thing propelling me forward is my ankles and toes at an inch at a time. I'm on my way out of Bynum's after eight and a half hours with Mike Green (Bitch), and we are both physically and mentally exhausted. I might look like a pig in a blanket, but I'm almost out.
Bynum's is the type of cave that could tire you out, even a hardcore ACES caver, and you would get stuck in its endless devastating crawlways; its sharp, tight rocks. You could even panic yourself in angst out of getting caught in its grasp. (Does this happen to ACES cavers?) Many a caver has been beaten by Bynum's grip.
The last adventure by ACES into Bynum's, where the hard-core crew ventured as far and as deep as they could go, a high lead was left unattended, and Mike and my goal, with hammer and chisel in hand, was to go as far and as high as we could. We entered at 1300 hours and blasted down the 20' entrance drop, and through the 40' tight, key-hole crawl. It took us hardy any time to reach the 20' climb down and the ear-dipper crawl where Mike and I dug my fat ass through the cobbles as I laid in the water. From there, we crawled, stooped and dragged our bodies through the cave for about an hour and a half until we reached the stream once again. We had already shed our poly pro tops and ventured on with a synthetic t-shirt under our nylon cave suits, still we found ourselves overheated and our mouths dry. We proceeded through a hands and knees water crawl and before we knew it, we reach the 50 ' drop. This is the only drop in the cave and has been thoroughly explored by Ballew, Dubuisson, and me. This is where we were to begin our exploration.
We found a bizarre pile of sand with Proudy's head imprint still in it from long ago. Here, Mike Green headed up and I proceed to persuasively negotiate the opening. After improvements, I found a better way up and we rose about 20 feet above the level of the drop. Backtracking in the direction we came from, Mike had found a way further up to a level approximately 50 feet above the drop and into virgin passage. We decided first, to travel back the direction we came from. Continuing -along the Northeast/Southwest trend, Mike and I searched for a perpendicular joint-passage. After Mike located a pinch in the upper passage trend, I noticed a perpendicular joint, and coerced Mike into checking the tight squeeze. Sure enough, it went, but Mike could not proceed past the boulders embedded in the mud.
We decided to continue in the opposite direction, following the Southeast trend and deeper into the cave. Every footprint was the first to be laid down in Bynum's and every drop of sweat, the first. We traversed single file through the meandering passage and the brilliant cracked mud-stone following the trend of Lookout Mountain. We hovered over the deep vadose canyon below our feet. The cave continued onward into endless darkness. We located a joint and turned right into it. After a little negotiation, we were both able to rise above the level of the trend passage and continue forward. Mike Green’s eyes gleamed in the brilliance of white calcite or gypsum before him, and he was able to hear an echo beyond before being turned back by a tight squeeze. Interesting to me was the fact that the passage changed from fairly flat bedding planes to a nearly 60 degree bedding plane. There must be a large shaft that underwent dissolution to allow a huge chunk of limestone to fall in its current position. Later a fissure formed through the large limestone.
For those who do not know Uncle Ballew, he is a tough caver, loud Southerner, and a genius. He’s so intelligent, in fact, that he’s a bit insane (he’ll tell you this if you ask). Uncle Ballew formed a theory of a large shaft developing through the resistant layers of the Bangor and the Hartselle, and finally through the Monteagle Limestone. If a fault passes through, or terminates in Lookout Mountain here, his theory holds ground. Bynum’s is the place this would exist, and every trip within the last couple of years has been in search of this dome-pit. The passage that Mike and I found could very well be the bottom of such a pit.
This is the first place that I would use microblasting to find an expansive dome-pit in Bynum's. We returned to the major trend and continued onward. The passage continued with the vadose canyon impending doom below us until we came to another lead. Mike and I came to the realization that the cave continued onward to the Southwest, and with leads left and right on multiple levels, we did not have the resources to continue. We decided to turn back in walking passage, approximate 750-1000 feet beyond the point of the 50' drop.
All and all, Mike and I figured we scooped approximately 1200' of virgin booty! That and the fact that we turned around in walking passage, might propel others to continue in our footsteps. Mike and I will definitely return, but we both need some recovery time, and time enough to forget Bynum's torture I now make a challenge to anyone to find my NSS numbers, and Mike Green (Bitch)'s name in the mud and continue where we left off.
Exhausted, and dehydrated, we turned around and began the trip back to the point where we originally ascended into the upper passage and dropped back down to the pit level. Slowly and not without a certain degree of agony, we made our way back. Continuing through the stream crawls, sand crawl, and up into the meandering crawls, back down to the stream once again to the ear dipper crawl and to the rope climb. After climbing the rope we continued to the sitting room right before the entrance key-hole, which brings us to the present.
My eyes are on the prize, the entrance climb and a Gatorade at the gas station at the bottom of he hill. I've tethered our combined packs behind me and Mike is struggling with his shoulder behind me. What he doesn't know is that I'm struggling with the rest of my body ahead of him. The wind is howling at my face through the crawl. After contorting my body in circus acrobat-like ways, and at least three breaks, I find myself out of the key-hole and into crawling passage once again. I pick up our pack and crawl and climb my way to the bottom of the entrance drop. Managing to climb the entrance drop, I walk up to the cars and thank what-ever G-d may be out there, that once again, I've survived Bynum's Cave.
Most definately, the ACES and Uncle Ballew will need to proceed with another trip into the bowels of Bynum's. This time we must be armed with extra food, a stove, iodine tablets (or other purification methods), and fresh young (ignorant) cavers to continue in our footsteps.
Fro
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Post by afrochili on Dec 11, 2006 15:14:33 GMT -5
Does anyone have any Vancouver caving contacts that you could hook me up with? Thanks
Brian Sakofsky bsakofsky@yahoo.com
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Post by afrochili on Dec 10, 2006 22:03:28 GMT -5
I'm heading over to West Virginia around Greenbrier County and would like some trip suggestions. I'm willing to trade leading some TAG trips for great West Va trip suggestions. Please email me at bsakofsky@gmail.com. Thanks
Fro
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