Ill Concieved Plans Poorly executed

Black Hole

It was meant to be a straightforward trip, down to sump one in Swildons Hole, dive through the sump and then turn right to have a poke about in the black hole series. None of us had visited the black hole before, preferring instead to womble down to the beginning of sump two before heading out. The journey to sump one was easy enough; most of us could have found our way there with our eyes closed. Diving the short sump was uneventful apart from the anxiety that someone may be coming the other way. Despite this I prefer to dive it first to avoid people on the other side extending the dive by putting their hand on your helmet. A standard trick amongst us that never failed to amuse everybody but the victim. After a quick left term and a bit of wandering got us to the top of the black hole, a 30-foot pitch we had brought a ladder for.

I always find it frustrating waiting for someone else to rig a ladder much preferring to do it myself. It is the inactivity and cold. Usually I have a little poke about to see what is around. Today for some reason I decided to traverse the top of the pitch. Just too late I noticed the folly of my ways. The top of the pitch was coated in thick slimy mud. Mud that was being lubricated by a wet caver. The 45-degree slope ended at the lip of the pot. Mud isn't exactly renowned for its strength and when I started to slide I found out how weak it really was. I dug my fingers in to produce cat scratches in the mud. I tried to kick steps in the stuff but it wasn't going to have any of it. The edge and its attendant fall started to occupy the majority of my thoughts. When in a situation like this they tell you to keep calm. How exactly am I too keep calm when I'm about to, due to my own stupidity, gently sliding into a gapping chasm which is situated deep under Mendip on the wrong side of a sump. Panic was by far the easiest option but that could hasten my impending doom. I started to edge back to the others who had by now realised what a stupid situation I'd put myself in. They had gone a bit too quiet for my liking, the usual insults had been replaced by concerned looks and unhelpful advice like - come back here. What did they think I was trying to do? The lip was getting closer. I was sliding down faster than I was moving back to safety. My feet where inches from the edge, I was desperately trying to cling onto the soft mud. I prepared myself for the fall. If I could slide in slowly maybe I could lessen the impact. Then my feet struck rock on the lip. I stopped. There was some hope. The panic subsided. I could see the lip running all the way round to the ladder. With the care of a tightrope walker I edged my feet along the narrow ribbon of rock. Getting closer to the others who were proffering even more unhelpful advice like - don't slip. As if that was something I deliberately wanted to do.

Almost there, a few more shuffles and then a helping hand to pull me back from the edge. And then to sit on some nice, cold and solid limestone. The anxiety of the last few moments washed away. I felt weak, I felt lucky, and I didn't feel like descending the pot that I'd almost fallen down. I waited at the top and counted my blessings until the others returned. I've never been to the bottom of the black hole and now I doubt I ever will