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.
[Illustration: PROFILE OF THE "WITCH OF WOOKEY," WOOKEY HOLE CAVERN.
_Photo by H. E. Balch._]
[Illustration: AMONG THE POOLS, WOOKEY HOLE CAVERN.
_Photo by H. E. Balch._]
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."
Many things here bring to mind the Derbyshire cavern, which several
of our party had explored pretty thoroughly before we did any serious
work in Somerset--the approach along the deep wooded ravine cut through
the Dolomitic Conglomerate, the river pouring out from vast reservoirs
within the earth, the legendary associations, and the mystery shrouding
the stream's subterranean course. From the drainage area about Priddy,
700 feet above, on the top of Mendip, these waters find their way
down through a multitude of channels. Most of these passages are
quite unknown, but the two most important, of which a good deal will
be said presently,--the Eastwater Swallet and Swildon's Hole,--have
been explored to a considerable depth. In the latter we have got to a
depth of 300 feet, but natural obstacles and other difficulties have
prevented us from following the stream-course farther. Mr. Balch has
traced the Eastwater Swallet, which he opened in 1902, to the depth
of 500 feet below the point of absorption--almost, that is to say,
down to the level of Wookey Hole; but an enormous thickness of rock
still remains unexplored between the farthest points attained, from
below upwards and from above downwards. Most likely, when we get
farther, if we succeed in passing the present obstacles, we shall soon
find ourselves entering the canals and water caverns that lie on the
same level as the great natural reservoirs of Wookey Hole; in other
words, we are approaching the plane of saturation. Exploration in the
Eastwater Swallet is still being carried on, though perforce very
slowly; and concurrently therewith, efforts are being made, not without
success, to trace the passages in the lower cavern farther and farther
back.
[Illustration: MASS OF STALAGMITE, WOOKEY HOLE.
_Photo by H. E. Balch._]
[Illustration: IN THE FIRST CHAMBER, WOOKEY HOLE CAVERN.
_Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth._]
The summer tourist, conducted through the three principal chambers
of Wookey Hole by a guide armed with a can of benzoline, for making
stalagmites into torches, comes out having a very imperfect knowledge
of the geography of the cavern, and a totally inadequate idea of
its beauties. I well remember how little I was impressed by my first
visit, under these conditions, many years ago. The weak illumination
seemed to reveal only the proportions of some rather large cellars,
pervaded by oily pools, into which the contents of the can were poured
and set on fire, producing an unearthly glare through the darkness and
the waters; and a number of dingy and unconvincing natural effigies,
black with the accumulation of soot. Our exploring party in March 1903
saw these things under an illumination such as had never been kindled
there before, and I for one was quite unprepared for the revelation of
brilliance and spaciousness and beauty that we were to witness.
"Wokey Hole," says Bishop Percy, "has given birth to as many wild,
fanciful stories as the Sybil's (sic) Cave in Italy. Through a very
narrow entrance it opens into a large vault, the roof whereof, either
on account of its height or the thickness of the gloom, cannot be
discovered by the light of torches. It goes winding a great way
underground, is crost by a stream of very cold water, and is all horrid
with broken pieces of rock: many of these are evident petrifactions,
which, on account of their singular forms, have given rise to the
fables alluded to in this poem," the story, that is, of the blear-eyed
hag who was turned into stone. This quaint description is true in every
particular. The first cavern, or the "Witch's Kitchen," has a weird
similitude to Gothic architecture. Arch springs from arch up to the
lofty summit, and the walls and vaulting are full of canopied recesses,
with wild foliations of glistening calcite wreathed from niche to niche.
Below us, as we enter, a broad deep pool stretches away into darkness.
Could we follow the gently moving current in a boat, we should enter
another great vault, whose existence the ordinary visitor never
suspects. There, in a small passage beyond the water, Mr. Balch
discovered human remains. Whilst we peered into the gloom, the
limelight was burning up, and now it flashed across the cavern to where
the black scowling head of the Witch overshadows terraces, basins, and
wild imageries of spectral stalagmite.
"A glow! a gleam!
A broader beam
Startles those realms of endless night,
While bats whirl round on slanting wing,
Astonished at this awful thing.
The rocky roof's reflected rays
Are caught up in the waterways,
And every jewelled stalactite
Is bathed in that stupendous light,
One moment only; then the caves
Are plunged again in Stygian waves;
The fairy dream has passed away
And night resumes her ancient sway."
The Vicar of Whiteparish, near Salisbury, wrote these expressive lines
after seeing Wookey Hole lighted up with magnesium. Our beam of light
was less transitory, and gave us ample leisure to contemplate the
glories of this magnificent chamber. Its walls for the most part are
coloured a rich red, which absorbs light readily and makes photography
a slow business. The first exposure took half an hour. Against the
warm red, the pearly streaks of stalactite and stalagmite shine in
exquisite relief. There is a superb mass of stalactite near the Witch;
to say truth, the eye is confounded by the wild grouping of fantastic
piles of dripstone around that uncouth head; the colours of the rocks
and the flashing crystallisations are reflected in the pellucid water,
and confused again with our glimpses of the river-bed, smitten by the
moving shaft of light. On the nearer side of the cave, where a narrow
arch leads into an incrusted grotto, a gentle stream has deposited
a fairy-like series of fonts and stoups, ending in a pure white
sheet of dripstone, over which the water murmurs. The surface of all
these fabrications is diapered over with a network of delicate pearly
ridges; so that here you see a mass, as it were, of polished brain
coral, and there madrepores and alcyonaria, where the deposits have
continued their growth under water. Some of these efflorescences are
like petrified filaments of water weed. The foul scurf and soot that
covers the Witch's cooking apparatus and other accessories would,
doubtless, disappear under a fresh deposit of pristine white, would
the guides but cease for a twelvemonth to drench them in benzoline,
for the delectation of such as love conundrums in stone. Still, these
things are but a small part of the scenery, when all is lighted up as
we were able to light it. Our work done, a Bengal fire was set off, and
the glimpses it gave us along the waterway to the inaccessible chamber
beyond added vastness and mystery to the scene.
[Illustration: STALACTITE TERRACE, WOOKEY HOLE.
_Photo by H. E. Balch._]
[Illustration: GREAT RIVER CHAMBER, WOOKEY HOLE.
_Photo by Dawkes & Partridge, Wells._]