It was the best of teams,
it was the worst of tie-ins,
it was the spring of unexplored leads,
it was the cesspool of despair.
On Saturday Carlin Kartchner and I joined Jason Lachniet for my first visit to Perkins Cave in Washington County, Virginia. While we were donning our caving gear, the ACC workday cleanup crew cleared us a path through the weeds and poison ivy. As we entered the cave, Carlin made sure that I avoided a nest of baby birds on a ceiling shelf.
Up and down through the cave we followed Carlin back to a mop up lead he hadn’t quite finished. The up-and-down refers to the changes from standing to lying prone over and over again. We worked our way back to Carlin’s previous survey. He had apparently been surveying through dry walking passages encrusted in gypsum walls.
Our mop-up leads began where the walls got wet and muddy—when we could find walls. We surveyed into breakdown to create a 100-foot loop and sopped up our clothes real well. No time to get cold because we then headed for the opposite side of the cave. Along the walking way, Jason treated us to the Antlers, formations that look like albino lions’ tails.
The next destination was right before the beginning of the 800-Foot Crawl. To get there, we needed to go up the 50-Foot Climb (Jason explained that the original surveyors showed little creativity in naming passages). Carlin found a “simpler” way to navigate the top of the climb by pressing into a fissure and then pushing upward. As I climbed up and looked, I asked, “Will I fit?”
“I don’t see why not,” Carlin replied.
The extra two inches of depth to my chest were the factor that Carlin hadn’t considered. I exhaled and shoved my chest through. Then I spent two minutes sucking in my belly while floundering my arms to move up six more inches. I was comfortably thinking about Pooh Bear and the honey pot when I recognized that I likely wouldn’t go up or down from here. A lack of toe holds meant that I couldn’t push my hips through, and my arm pushing just pushed me sideways into positions that seemed to enlarge my hips. Carlin dropped some webbing from my pack, and the foot loop was exactly what I needed to clamber out of the fissure.
The next survey was just a short distance away, and then we fought over who would do the sketching. Jason lost the draw but found it relatively easy to sketch with the stations we were setting; Carlin and I barely stayed ahead of him. The well-decorated dry passage ended in a formation choke with blowing air coming from a virgin area beneath the hill. Our combined surveys in Perkins that day netted 36 stations and 1046 feet.
For the trip out, Carlin guided us upstream along the Stream Passage, so everything was uphill and wet. Great trip to come out around 11 PM. “It is a far, far longer survey that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
On Sunday I unintentionally drove the cows away from Sheep Cave in Smyth County. After getting past the poison ivy trees, Tanya McLaughlin, Carlin, and I surveyed up into the balcony and through the one side passage we had skipped last winter. We netted about 100 feet in survey, but the best part is that we’ll never have to return to that cave.