THE LUCAS CAVE.
The Lucas Cave presents, in grand combination, almost every type of
subterranean beauty to be found in the natural limestone caves of
Jenolan. It rivals the Imperial Cave, which, however, is commonly
regarded as the more attractive, and displays a more dazzling
magnificence than that which characterises either the Arch or the Elder
Cave. The approach to the Lucas Cave is by a zigzag path from the
valley, leaving the high Pinnacle Rock to the left hand. The route is
not difficult to agile people, but the road would be greatly improved by
the cutting of suitable steps. On gaining the top of the ridge the
waterfall is in front. To the left are rocks rising like a vast citadel
to a height of 900 feet, at the summit of which are immense cliffs with
deep gorges between them. The distance is too great to enable the
visitor to discern their geological composition. Some of them seem as
though they had been shaped by human hands in the time of the Pharaohs.
They remind one of the enormous stones in the Great Pyramid of Egypt, or
the massive blocks in the Temple of the Sun at Heliopolis, and the
limestone ridges suggest the mighty Nile which runs through similar
ranges. These elevated pinnacles and chasms are favourite resorts of
marsupials. Wallabies may be seen leaping from rock to rock and peering
out from the crevices. As they are not molested they afford visitors
ample opportunity to watch their graceful movements. The distance from
the top of the ridge to the mouth of the cave is about 100 yards, with
a fall of 60 feet. The descent in some places is so steep as to make it
difficult in dry seasons. In wet weather it is dangerous, the rocks
being covered with slippery clay.
The grand cavern, called the "Lucas Cave," was so named in recognition
of valuable services rendered by the Hon. John Lucas, M.L.C., who, from
the 8th December 1864, until the dissolution of Parliament on the 15th
December 1869, represented in the Legislative Assembly the electorate of
Hartley, in which Jenolan is situated. He used his influence to obtain
the dedication of the reserve, and make provision for the care and
improvement of the caves. It was on his recommendation that the present
cave-keeper was appointed to the office of curator. His foresight and
activity are suitably commemorated by the association of his name with
objects of beauty, the fame of which is now spread throughout the whole
civilised world.
The opening to the Lucas Cave is very massive, and has a rather steep
fall of about 12 feet from the pathway to the floor of the cavern. The
entrance is about 30 feet wide and 25 feet high. The roof of the portico
is ornamented by rocks, which in shape and colour appear to be in
keeping with the gloomy-looking tunnel beyond. The overhanging masses
are honeycombed and convoluted in a remarkable manner, and thin off to
points like stalactites. The curved, tapering forms are in groups of
various dimensions, drooping in folds like those of loosely-fitting
garments. They represent not "formation," but the original rock, out of
the crevices of which the softer portions and earthy substances have
been extracted by the ordinary operations of Nature. To the left of the
archway is a bulky convoluted pillar, rising from the surrounding blocks
and boulders to the uppermost part of the portico, and to the right of
the archway is a fine piece of stalagmite formation about 10 feet in
height. In the centre, immediately behind it, is a large stalactite, and
near by an extensive patch which looks like conglomerate of lime and
pebbles. On the outer walls are flowering shrubs and creeping plants,
including one which bears a strong resemblance to the climbing fig
(_Ficus stipulata_), which clothes with pleasant verdure many an ugly
wall in and about Sydney. The rock colouring is especially fine and
beautifully shaded all the way from the broad daylight to the beginning
of the interior blackness, which is somewhat sharply defined by a fringe
of stalactites like the vertical bars of a portcullis.
The immediate entrance to this cave is begrimed with dust. A few yards
onward there is an iron gate. The guide opens it and carefully locks in
his visitors, who light their candles and proceed by a downward path.
The descent is about 80 feet, partly by steps cut zigzag fashion, and
then on a sloping floor covered with _debris_. There is a marked
difference in the temperature, which is many degrees higher than that of
the outward air, and several degrees warmer than the interior of the
Arch and Nettle Caves. Small flies surprise the excursionists by the
suddenness of their appearance, and by the narrow limits of their
_habitat_. They live in the zone between daylight and darkness. In the
region of perpetual night the only signs of animated nature are clusters
of bats. The lighted candles serve to make the surrounding darkness more
pronounced.
Where the rays of light pierce through the night to its rocky boundary
indistinct, irregular lines can be seen like the ribs of a skeleton, and
it is easy to conjure up all sorts of uncanny shapes, from hobgoblins to
anthropophagi. The only sounds audible, or apparently audible, are the
quickened respiration and the throbbing of the heart. When the voice is
raised its effect is strange, and there is no responsive echo. Darkness
and silence dwell together. After spending a few seconds--or minutes--in
their company, the curator lights his magnesium lamp, and the visitor
finds himself in the precincts of "The Cathedral," in the centre of
which is a large stalagmite. The roof rises to a height of about 300
feet, 70 feet loftier than Canterbury Cathedral or Notre Dame, and
within 100 feet of the altitude of St. Paul's! The walls are composed of
limestone, terraced with tier upon tier of stalagmites brought into bold
relief by the gloom of innumerable fantastically-shaped recesses. The
preacher is Solitude; his theme is "Awful Stillness." Wandering through
the nave to the south, the visitor walks over caves not yet opened, but
the existence of which can be proved by dropping little pebbles into
dark recesses and listening to the percussion on floors more or less
remote. In an aisle of the Cathedral leading to the Music Hall, there is
another grandly-arched cavern with a steep descent into an abysmal
depth. Here on the one side are numerous stalactites, white as virgin
snow, and on the other similarly-shaped formations of carbonate of lime
tinged with oxide of iron--some of them so deeply as to present the
colour of a boiled lobster's crust. This is a favourite clustering place
for bats, and numbers of these membranous-winged quadrupeds may be seen
snoozing together on the roof.
THE MUSIC HALL.
By means of a wire ladder the excursionist descends still deeper into
the bowels of the earth. He then goes farther down by 18 or 20 steps,
cut in a clayey substance, to the vestibule of the Music Hall. Some of
the stalagmites are stained with clay. They have evidently been used as
steadying-posts by visitors who had previously placed their hands on the
red earth when working their way down the declivity where the steps are
now formed. The other stalagmites away out of reach are white and
glistening. The approach to the Music Hall, which was discovered in the
summer of 1860, is low. The passage to it is about 35 yards long. The
floor is composed entirely of "formation," and at the sides are numerous
columns of different colours. The Music Hall itself is about 12 feet in
height, and runs out at the end to about two feet. It is called the
"Music Hall" because of its very fine acoustic properties. A weak voice
raised in song or oratory sounds full and sonorous. This hall encloses a
secret which architects of public buildings might covet, and the wonder
is how such tonic effects are produced in a chamber which presents so
many obstructions to the waves of sound. The floor contains a series of
basins, curiously shaped by the water which has been retained in them,
until it has escaped by percolation to form stalactites and stalagmites
at some lower level. The edges of these shallow reservoirs are sharply
defined and gracefully moulded. The formation of the walls is extremely
delicate. Some of it is white and some like yellow coral. The roof has
been slightly defaced by certain nineteenth century cads. In various
places the "mark of the beast," in lampblack, has been produced by
holding candles near to the ceiling and moving them about gradually, and
the sooty hieroglyphics remain unto this day as an evidence of vanity
and folly. The floor, which was once like alabaster, is now soiled by
the tramping of feet. But, notwithstanding these defects, the Music Hall
is still very beautiful.
[Illustration: THE SHAWL CAVE.]
THE SHAWL CAVE.
Returning to the main passage, the tourist descends 41 steps, and enters
the Shawl Cave, a magnificent chamber, the roof of which slopes at an
angle of about 43 degrees. Into one side the "formation" of carbonate of
lime has floated like lava in volumes, and presents the appearance of a
suddenly congealed cascade. All the adjacent rocks are covered with fine
sheets of formation, white and coloured, and hanging in graceful folds.
On a far-off wall is more formation of a similar kind, projecting from a
perpendicular rock, and variegated with superb tracery and colouring.
The "shawls" hang parallel to each other. They gradually increase from
six inches to three feet in depth, in a lateral length of from 12 to 15
feet, and at a distance appear as though they had been placed on the
wall by an artist; but when the light is put behind them it is seen
that they are independent, slightly corrugated, semi-transparent slabs
of equal thickness and graduated widths. Of this kind of formation,
however, more magnificent specimens are to be found in the Imperial
Cave. In another part of this cavern are large detached blocks of
formation, which sparkle like diamonds all over the lines of fracture.
They are in wild disorder, as though they had been hurled about in some
Titanic conflict. The stalactites here are of different character from
those found in the other caves, being composite and covered with
ornamentation of various kinds. The lower rocks, too, are rippled and
chequered like wicker-work, and resemble the formation of the Pink
Terraces of Rotomahana, which were destroyed by lava from a volcano in
1886. The roof is about 100 feet high, and the sides of the cave are
formed of massive ledges, over which a limey substance has flowed in
large masses and assumed elegant shapes fringed with stalactites. Near
this place is a hole which goes down to the bottom of another cave. It
has not yet been fully explored, but it has been ascertained that its
depth is about 120 feet, with a clear pool at the bottom. A stone thrown
down it is heard to strike two or three times, and finally splash in the
liquid crystal.