Present: Ian, Ralph
Phrase of the trip: N/A (not much talking done)
Familiar to the both of us, we thought this could be a speedy trip with little of the usual pitch-end waiting. Ian enjoyed the cave much more for its natural features this time, being able to focus less on the SRT (my previous visit to Rowten was my first SRT trip). With Ralph rigging and me doing nothing it was easy going, and we seemed soon to be descending that cavernous main pitch. Recent wet weather and snowmelt made the falls very powerful, and the conditions from here on were very windy. The lower traverse was the exception, and we made our way steadily along, talking and enjoying the dry, sheltered position. A short pitch with a devilish deviation lead us to the bottom. Finally able to detach from the ropes, we wandered around the corner and saw in front of us was a very forceful wall of falling water. There was a strong wind drawing towards it and there was a lot of spray; very impressive, and certainly thwarting any attempt to continue. We watched it for a while, and then began the ascent to the top.
As Ralph made his way up, I lay on my back in a convenient rock alcove to the right; with my feet up and lamp off, I could follow his progress up the pitch. For Ian, a notably scary incident occurred whilst de-rigging the pitch immediately below the main one – as soon as I let go of the bottom P-hanger I swung across the pitch in a large arc. Heading towards a large wall of water on the other side, my mind instantly brought up the memory of reading a report of a cave rescuer’s death in a waterfall in Rowten. I was very glad to see that I slowed and stopped a few feet short of the water and began to drift away again, still cursing loudly. Shaking like an excited rabbit, I was soon up the rope and de-rigging in the main chamber. Here it was miserably cold with the spray and wind and I was envious of Ralph, whose lamplight I could see waiting at the top of the pitch. Desperate not to repeat the swinging of a quarter of an hour ago, I made my way to where I judged to be directly below the Y–hang and, gingerly lifting off the floor, I began to move slowly over the stream and towards the falls. Whilst in no danger of going into the path of the force of the water, I got close enough each time to get a heavy wetting, like two people stood above emptying buckets onto me. Not being able to start my ascent in the stream, I was stuck with the swing and very slowly and miserably made my way up the rope, tackle sack in tow. For around ten minutes I was swinging back and forth, every ten seconds or so holding my arms down and huddling up to deflect the worst of the water.
Eventually I was out of the spray and de-rigging at the top, coiling up the rope so it wouldn’t get caught on anything. Back up on the traverse at the top, I met Ralph again; he was inactive and cold – I was warm in the middle but cold and wet everywhere else. We enjoyed a Mars bar and I handed him the rope I had brought up. Watching him struggling across the rock bridge with the rope (the 77m wasn’t in a tackle sack), I could see he was glad to be on the move. I, however, was tired through and happy to be stood on the traverse free of all that rope. The rest was relatively easy and we were on the surface again, standing together on the side of the hill, flush with satisfaction. A slippery walk down the hill followed and a rather chilly change by the car.
Upon ringing our callout we were told not to leave the area, as another group were getting close to their callout time, so we waited by the car for the others to arrive from the YSS. Once they did there were enough people there, and it was decided that we wouldn’t be needed, so the two of us drove back to the hut. It later became apparent that they had emerged unharmed shortly before their callout time.
The next day, New Year’s Eve, it was decided that we should do a cave which met the following criteria:
1) It must be fairly short,
2) Have tight bits,
3) Be suitable for all,
4) Require no SRT,
5) Not be wet,
6) Be fairly local, and,
7) Not need a long walk.
We settled on Stainforth Cave, and the three of us set off to Ingleton for James’ breakfast and for Ralph and Ian to hire proper lamps. Back at Stainforth, we were unable to find the cave and had to choose another.