Tutman’s Hole (via Moking Pot, Moking Hurth, Crystal Maze, Black Beauty, The Hanging Gardens of Babylon, and just about every other crappy cave in Northern England)

Present: George, James, Martin

Crystal Maze Pot.
 Don’t let the entrance to this cave fool you, for from the outside it may appear to be a rabbit hole, but when inside it opens out dramaticaly. There are several ways on from the entrance chamber, sadly the way ahead chokes after 2 metres. The main way on is to the left, the pitch head is awkward, but you soon arrive at the bottom (note- to any future explorers, we had several metres of ladder left at the bottom of the pitch).
 Once at the base of the pitch the way on is obvious, back out, BUT!!! it would indeed be a particularly hard and soul-less young caver who did not first stop to admire the formations. The iron oxide deposits are a wonder to behold, bearing an almost uncanny resemblence to half of a wheel barrow and a paint tin lid. As if that were not enough dear reader, the polypropelene deposits, how can one express such beauty using only the power of the written word? Suffice to say, I was sad to leave.

Black Beauty Caverns.
 Named after the Black Widdow Spider who spins her wicked web of wonder inside the entrance to this remarcable chasm. But do not be afraid dear reader for she is a mere spider, a red herring placed by mother nature to keep cavers away from her womb, her very soul.
 Should you have ventured as far as the bottom of this orrifice you will not be disappointed, you have gone back into the heart of the earth, only to be re-born. Stripped away from your earthly consciesness, you emerge, a wiser, more comlete caver, ready for the challenges that lie ahead….

Hanging Gardens Cave.
…And what challenges! Here you see it, layed out infront of you, the road to nirvana, the journey you must tread, but be aware dear reader, for although the road may appear straight the challenges lie unseen. The  mud on the floor, this is desire, it drags you down, you must cast it aside in order to achieve your one, true goal, the low ceiling this represents your conscience, weighing you down, if you are to achieve nirvana you must first unload such wordly worries. You are nearly there, you can see the light at the end of the tunnel, you are becoming at one with your inner self, your aura radiates through the tunnel like the sun you wear on your helmet. And you are there, the journey is over… except it is not, it has of course, as you realise only just begun…

George, who failed to find Moking hurth but discovered enlightenment instead.

Part I: Twas A Tale Of Three Caves, Each More Shitty Than The Last!

  We had decided to do Moking Hurth and Pot (in Teesdale) today, as they seemed reasonably good, and we couldn’t be arsed travelling all the way to Yorkshire. Al had given us the run-down on what to expect: woolly sheep; viscous dogs; and a pair of very randy bulls in the fields below the caves. So it was with much trepidation that we approached the farmhouse to ask for permission to go underground. Thankfully none of Al’s worries materialised (apart from the sheep: baa!) and, with permission granted, the three of us set off up the hill towards the cliff and the pair of limekilns that apparently marked the entrance to Moking Hurth.

  We had decided to do Moking Pot first (for which we had packed a 10m ladder) and so we walked to the top of the cliff and into the field beyond. Very quickly, George located (and promtly disappeared down) the tight hole that we presumed was the entrance. Five minutes later he reappeared with the news that, although it actually wasn’t Moking Pot, it was really worth investigating. So, excitedly I went down for a look! Due to its extraordinary natural beauty, we were led to christen this cave “The Crystal Maze”. Never before have I come across formations as exquisite as this: minerals have been deposited over the millenia to form such interesting shapes such as jagged pieces of rusted metal, old wheelbarrows, and empty bags of fertilizer. Simply wonderous!

 Resolving to mount a serious expedition to fully survey The Crystal Maze at a later (much later!) date, we continued our search for the elusive Moking Pot further round the hill. Eventually we found another promising entrance. Due to the very large and scary black spiders that lived in this cave, and the presence of more glorious fertilizer-bag-formations, we christened this cave “Black Beauty”. Alas, this was still not what we were looking for, and so, with patiences fraying, we decided to bugger out of it and go looking for Moking Hurth instead.
Half an hour later we hadn’t found Moking Hurth either and so we made an executive decision to look for a different cave to do in the guide-book. Defeated, but not completely demoralised, we set off back down the hill. Then, as if in answer to our prayers, George uttered a roar of triumph: he’d found a likely entrance. Although dubious about the frankly ‘miney’ feel of this cave, I waded first into the suspicious looking (and supicious smelling) ‘mud’; venturing into the long dark passage. It was simply glorious! All variety of floral life hung from the roof of the passage (well weeds and roots anyway), making this a unique caving experience. We had no hesitation in naming this passage “The Hanging Gardens of Babylon”. Even this doesn’t do justice to the pleasures of the flesh that can be experienced here! Eventually however, all good things must come to an end, and this was no exception: the passage ends in a wall of solid rock after about 30m. The word “Bugger” immediately
sprang to mind!

Part II: DUSA Returns To Its Heyday And Embraces That Retro-Seventies Feel!

Back in the car we had a tricky decision: what to do? Three realistic options presented themselves:

i. Lunehead Mine Caverns.

ii. God’s Bridge River Cave.

iii. Tutman’s Hole.

The first of these was quickly dismissed on the grounds that the guidebook was sceptical as to whether the entrance even existed anymore, and anyway it involved traipsing through 600m of crappy mine workings to reach any cave.

The second option had been done in 1998 by Anthony, Julia and Al. Al had summed up the experience as follows: “If this was God’s Bridge then God was a bit crap”. Fair enough!

This left Tutman’s Hole as the only realistic choice (since the weather seemed quite nice). Too our suprise the survey of this cave had been most recently extended by none other than DUSA, back in those heady days of flared trousers and kipper ties that were the mid-seventies. Never ones to miss a chance to re-enact a key moment of ancient history, we accepted the challenge. Martin started the engine and we were soon on our way to the picturesque market town of Alston, stopping only to phone Chris (to change our call-out details), and to supply Martin and George with much-needed cheese-and-onion pasties for energy. We were ready for
action!

Very soon we were marching up the banks of a long meandering river and making good progress. It was not to last however, because very soon Martin began to suffer ill-effects from the probably-dodgy pasty he’d eaten earlier. After continuing for several more minutes he reluctantly decided to return to the car and wait for us to return. Somewhat disheartened we pressed on. And on. And on and on and on… It was quite literally miles (well two and a half anyway!). Far further than it had
looked on the map. Eventually however, we reached the resurgence that signified the entrance to Tutman’s Hole.

Shortly after entering the cave we were reduced to hands-and-knees crawling through deepish water. A lot of the time it was easiest to just kind of push off the walls of the cave and float/swim along the passage. This continued for about 300m and, with flat-out wet crawling becoming more and more common, we were beginning to regret our choice of cave for the day! Eventually events reached their climax as we were confronted with a one foot high passage which only had about three inches of airspace for as far as we could see.

After pause for thought, and with each of us trying to persuade the other to go through first, we took the plunge. The shock as your face touches the water is always one of the most unpleasant sensations possible to experience, but we managed to reach the next airbell safely. However, a quick glance along the water line confirmed that no end was in sight to this nightmare. We refused to be defeated and tried again, progressing slightly further along the passage. This continued for approximately 25/30m, and was made more uncomfortable because we continually had to roll over from side-to-side to fit through, and hence both sides of our faces got good soakings. Eventually things got much worse and the ceiling lowered to about a centimetre above the water. We were just about to turn back when I noticed a thin crack in the roof that allowed me to see further up the passage. Hoorah! The cave reached normal proportions again in a couple of metres. We’d come this far and so we weren’t about to back out now. Each of us held our breath and threw ourselves head first into the water, swimming frantically. We were finally through!

We knew from the guidebook that the duck would lead to a canal-passage, that DUSA had named “Venice”. This can only be described as spectacular! There were literally thousands of stals and straws of all shapes and sizes. All completely undisturbed and unspoilt. Suddenly the long walk to the cave and the braving of the ducks had been worth it. As you float down the canal, trying not to destroy any of the formations with your helmet, the realisation dawns on you that very few people will have ever been here in history. Even before the ducks you know that this cave probably hasn’t been visited for years and years: the mud has formed into banks that wouldn’t have been there if people had recently entered this cave. The thought was awe-inspiring!

We continued into the cave, hoping that it hadn’t started to rain outside (the weather was great on the way in). Venice ends, and after a little bit of unremarkable passage, you reach yet another duck: “Perpetual Motion”. We managed to get through and continued still further. At the next duck however, we decided that we’d had enough for today and headed back out. On the way we discovered that the ducks were far easier if we took our helmets off before attempting them. There were
some side-effects of the experience though, because both me and George began to develop quite bad cramp in our arms and legs; and George’s brand new Carbide kept going out. Also, the cheese-and-onion pasty was beginning to make George feel the worse-for-wear. Overcoming the vast weights of our water-logged furry suits, we finally made it back to the entrance to discover that the weather had stayed dry, although there were now dark clouds on the horizon. We had probably got out just in time! Before we had done this cave, George and I had really wanted to attempt “The Grind” in Easegill. Now we know that The Grind is for wusses!

Excitedly we hurried back to the car to tell Martin what we had found. As we were getting changed a rather stern looking man in a Land-Rover pulled up next to us: “Have you been down the cave up there?”, he said pointing an accusing finger. “Ummm, kind of.”, I replied nervously as, out of the corner of my eye, I watch Martin frantically trying to start the car engine. “Oh I’m not the Game-Keeper or nothin’!”, he laughs, “I’m just wonderin’ what it’s like? I’ve always been meaning to visit!”. Breathing a sigh of relief we engage him in a conversation about the local mine-workings that he likes to explore. I think George’s exciting description of the ducks may have prematurely ended his interest in the exploration of Tutman’s Hole though!

We left Land-Rover Man to his own devices and headed back to Durham, stopping for Fish and Chips on the way of course. When we got back, George and I looked at the old 1977 log-book in the gear cupboard and read about the original DUSA exploration of Tutman’s Hole. It turns out that (due to “the surveyors’ alcohol levels becoming dangerously low”) there are a few passages beyond the ducks that have never been completely pushed! After the last duck that we’d got to, the cave takes a distinct turn for the better and expands into something called “Turtle Chamber” and finally reaches a bedding plane crawl. So, what I’m trying to say is that it would be great to go back there very soon, with a camera to get some cool photos of Venice; and to see if we can find something new. The furthest reaches of the passages seem to end only fifty metres from the sink, and so it’s possible that a connection can be made!

This is hour when heroes are made, and when destinies are fulfilled! Only one man has the power to take on the mantle of DUSA’s saviour. Only one man can protect innocent cavers from the Great-Satan of Leck Fell: step forward Alastair Cook and his Naughty-White-Tub. He has been chosen by the Speleogods to lead the last dregs of DUSA deep down into the bowels of Tutman’s Hole on their final great quest. Will he accept this holy-task? And more importantly, will he suceed? And will he get back in time for Tea? Tune in for the next thrilling episode of “Al Cook: Cave Adventurer”. (This Feature Presentation has been given an XXX guidance rating by the British Broadcasting Board of Standards Comittee and The Red Rose Cave and Pothole Club. People over 35 years of age and those of a nervous disposition are advised to look away now!)

James