For fairer weather one would dare not ask,
And better company could scarce be found
For spending hours of labor underground—
If barely so—for we had set our task
(And my excitement I could barely mask)
At digging, hauling, sorting pound by pound
A century of rubbish most profound,
So that among our spoils, we might then bask.
A dozen cavers got themselves arranged
Above, below, and sev’ral in between.
As full and empty buckets were exchanged,
A salamander and some bats were seen;
I wonder if they think us all deranged,
At work so hard to make their trash pit clean.
Read a proper trip report on Walker Mountain Grotto’s blog.
23 bags of trash, 9 buckets of broken glass, miscellaneous detritus
