Summer of Caves

With the help of the 1966 award, and my wonderful friends in the Cambridge caving club, I was able to spend a month caving in Europe. Below, I have written a description of some of my experiences over this time, particularly my experience of caving the Berger. I hope this gives an interesting picture of expedition caving.

Part 1 – the Berger

Having returned from a field trip that is part of my university course in Skye, I set off on the 10th of July in a packed car with four friends to drive to France. The drive was long, but accompanied by a lot of singing and we camped in woods in the middle of France on the way. Most of the drive travelled through flat agricultural land, so the contrast, arriving into the Alps, was made even more stunning and beautiful. Seeing for the first time the mountains, that I had studied on my Earth Sciences course, rising higher and higher as we got closer, was an awesome experience.

The Gouffre Berger, for a time, once held the record of the world’s deepest cave (now 37th deepest). It holds a very famous position in the history of caving, and was considered to be a very dangerous cave, as it responds very quickly to rainfall. Improvements in rope, lighting technology, and weather forecasting, have reduced the risks involved in caving the Berger, but it is still an intimidating cave at 1.2km virticle depth.

I caved the Gouffre Berger on an expedition with the South Wales Caving Club (SWCC), who allowed us (me, and four other student cavers from Cambridge University Caving Club - CUCC) to take part in their 10 day permit in exchange for lending our ‘Cave Link’ – a remarkable piece of technology that uses Very Low Frequencies to allow communication between those inside the cave and the surface through solid rock. We joined SWCC at a lovely campsite near Autrans, on the high Vercors Platau above Grenoble.

Access to the Berger involves a zig zagging drive up from Autrans to the car park at La Moliere, with views across the Alps, including Mount Blanc, than an hours walk through the most lovely woods I have ever seen before you reach the entrance. At the entrance we had a vigil system, with two people assigned to entrance duty at all times, to log people into and out of the cave, and be ready in case any help was needed.

We were incredibly lucky as the French had offered to ‘rig’ the cave for us. Normally most of the 10 days of the permit would be spent rigging; setting up the ropes in the cave, and derigging. However, as the French had an upcoming major event involving lots of people visiting the cave, they had already set ropes up, so we had shiny new rope and most of the pitches were rigged with two ropes, allowing fast descents and ascents as a group, and didn’t have to fae the drudgery of carrying rope into and – worse – out of the cave.

We were also lucky to have exceptionally low water levels which made the cave very safe & some of the pitches easier.

Berger- Bounce trip to Camp 1

My first trip into the Berger was a bounce trip to Camp 1, with my four CUCC friends. Situated at -500m, and about a third of the distance into the cave, camp 1 is an important staging post. The descent was fast and fun, and seeing the unbelievably huge caverns inside the Berger for the first time was an experience I can never relive. The scale of the pitches, the twists and turns of the narrow Meanders, the ethereal beauty of Starless River, the immensity of the Great Rubble Heap. But nothing can compare to the beauty of the Hall of Thirteen at Camp 1. This giant cavern is floored with huge calcite pools, and at the far end, 13 monolithic stalagmites. No picture can do it justice, and capture the experience of the echoing dripping, the moving air that lets you know how vast the cavern is, the darkness beyond the reach of headtorches, and the sense of smallness in this ancient place.

On this first trip we took lots of pictures, before heading back out. I found the journey out very difficult. I was not at peak fitness, and this was the most prusiking (the technique of climbing up virticle ropes using two ascenders) I had ever done by a LONG way (the most I had done before the Berger was JH in Derbyshire, at 191m deep). The heat and overexertion of prusiking set off an illness I suffer from. However, my caver friends were there, sticking with my slow pace, and made all the difference. This is the reason I love caving: the caves are gorgeous, the experience is challenging and wonderful, but really it is the support & friendship of other cavers that makes the sport so great. Unlike many other sports, caving is fundamentally non-competitive -someone may be a faster or more experienced caver, but at the ned of the day you stick together and support each other: cavers have to trust their team mates to be their when they need each other, in a way very few other situations require.

Arriving back into the glorious sun, I was exhausted, and the one hour uphill walk back to the car was an unaccounted challenge. But then we were back at camp, enjoying the sun and the swimming pool.

The weather over this period got hotter and hotter. Though our elevation helped, at was at least 40*C, and often I longed to be back in the cool 7*C of the Berger. After my Camp 1 trip, I had decided I wasn’t going to cave with the Cambridge lot again, as my pace was very different to theirs.. We took a day relaxing, then the rest of the Cambridge lot set off to do their bottoming trip. I had been planning a nice day walking in the area, when that night, at the daily camp meeting, Paul – an SWCC caver managed to persuade me to join him on a Berger trip – like me he had just recovered from COVID, and so had found his Camp 1 trip difficult, so promised that our pace would be slow. We were clear that did not AIM to reach the bottom, but left the possibility there.

Berger – Bottom trip

Therefore the next day I was rushing to the small Autrans shop before it closed for Bastille Day, to buy lots of sweets and chocolate for the trip. I headed to bed early, but was awake to see the Cambridge lot arriving back from their Berger bottoming trip – having completed it in 14 hours!!!

Me and Paul, alongside Ali and Becks, got a lift to the car park early the next morning, walked to the entrance, and got changed. We gave Ali & Becks some time to get ahead of us, before me and Paul said goodbye to the sunlight and headed in.

We made it down to camp 1 in good time, where we had some food, left some stuff, and decided that our aim would be to reach camp 2, then see how we were feeling (very aware that it is much easier to go down than up). The passages behind the Hall of Thirteen were even more beautiful than I could have imagined – caverns full of calcite straws, the clattering sound of water pouring through the ‘Hosepipe’, the slick calcite floor of the German Hal, which looked like it had been formed on the surface of bubbles.

Then we reached the Cascades and the Canals. I can’t remember the difference between the two sections, but the nature of the cave changed here – less large caverns full of calcite, more rift like. And it become difficult for me technically. With horizontal rigging set to keep you up out of the water, almost like via ferrata, I often couldn’t find any footholds to traverse on, and had to swing myself sideways, clip in then hang and rest before I could repeat the process, inching along. The tension traverses were fairly fun on the way down – like a zip line, but oh how I would come to hate them on the way back.

We met a lone French caver down here, who wad part of the French expedition pushing a different part of the cave. We had said that we would stop at Camp II and reassess, but failed to find camp II. Given that we were probably passed it, and feeling fine, we decided to push on anyway – it’s a hard game to play, predicting what you can take on the way back.

Finally we were at Hurricane pitch – this immense pitch was involved an awkward crawling traverse along a tiny ledge to get onto it, and even in very low water conditions the sound of water flowing down it deafened any attempts to communicate & we had to resort to whistle commands. From Hurricane it was almost simply a matter of plodding on to the end. But soon we saw lights and heard sound up ahead: it was Ali and Becks, who had just reached the bottom and were taking a rest. Me and Paul left them to go see the pseudo siphon – the deepest point in the Berger you can each without swimming, at -1100m. We took the necessary photographs, and I ate my squished jam sandwich, and we had bottomed the Berger.

But we had to get out.

After a rest to let Ali and Becks get ahead of us, we began the ascent. We saw the remains of the tent from the 1960s camp, with a neatly arranged pile of echinoid fossils. The first snag came on Hurricane pitch. I made a big mess up on the first rebelay, completely tangling my kit in the ropes. Having overcome that, and with my heart fired up on the adrenaline, I made it to the top, and the awkward (and know much more scary) traverse off the pitch. The canals were as awful as on the way down, but this time more so; by this time it was the early hours of the next morning (the my mental clock suggested it was 6pm), and exhaustion made everything more difficult. And the tension traverses became my mortal enemy. On the first one, I watched Paul do it, it looked okay, and so I gradually inched my way up by pulling my weight up the rope: hard but okay. But I can honestly say that the tension traverses in the canals were some of the hardest things I have ever done – weather I didn’t have the right technique, or my cowstails were too long (likely), or I was simply too weak, it was hell: I would haul myself up my cowstail till I could grab the rope above my ascender, shove it 10cm up the rope, then drop back down in exhaustion. Rest, Repeat, little cry; on and on, and it never seemed to end. My sugar levels had got low, and I was running purely on determination to get out of this cursed area. And I did, eventually.

Paul however, who had gone in front, had grown very cold waiting for me. We were both exhausted, and Paul wanted to get on. But I knew that I desperately needed to stop and get sugar. So we brewed a quick cup of hot ‘energy squash’ taken from an army ration back. It was miraculous stuff – from being at an ultimate low, I went in 10 minutes to a sugar rush – light and sound returned to the world, and even the way I perceived stuff felt different. I tried to keep up a pace as we pushed on up. Soon we had caught up again with Ali and Becks, and had to wait to follow them up the pitches.

The rest of the ascent is all a blur in my memory – scrambling up calcite slopes. Prusiking fuelled on determination alone. Slipping, teeth gritting, and carrying on up. Then to my surprise, the huge stalagmites around us were the stalagmites of the Hall of Thirteen. A whoop, a sigh and a final scramble, and we had made it to Camp I.

Camp 1 was two ‘tents’ made from reflective silver blankets, hung on string, and a rock circle where we ate. Paul, Ali, and Becks were wonderful and caring – I hadn’t expected to be sleeping in the cave so hadn’t brought food. Paul gave me with a freeze dried curry, and they insisted I took their puffa jackets to keep warm. The tents were surprisingly effective at keeping in the heat. However. In the night I started to feel incredibly ill. The over exertion of the trip (and possibly eating something a couldn’t a few days before) had triggered illness, and I sat huddled in my sleeping bag in immense pain, getting up four times in the night with diarrhoea (and the knowledge that bags of human waste have to be carried out). Five hours later everyone else was up. The others were very kind, insisting that they take some stuff out of my bag, and reassuring me to go at my own pace.

And so began the final part of the trip: getting out. Once I got moving things were better than I thought they would be – the pain faded to a manageable level. Setting off up the Great Rubble Heap, it was still a long slog, though not as hard as on the first Camp 1 trip – I knew what to dread, and I knew to pace myself. Becks was struggling a bit so we kept the pace slow. By the time we reached the base of Aldo’s we had another break and a brew of hot super energy army squash, and picked up the Red bull we’d left at the base of Aldo’s on the way in.

The long series of pitches began at Aldo’s, but they had all been rigged with two ropes which allowed us to get up them much faster as a group of four. We also began to see a lot of other people here, as the French who had been pushing the cave beyond Camp II began overtaking us. The pitches were the usual level of hardness but doable. I was kept going by adrenaline.

The final insistent occurred during the meanders – I had gone ahead, and just as Paul caught up with me he slipped, seriously injuring his leg and leaving him shaken. Ali – a member of Cave Rescue – checked him over before the entrance series pitches, we all had some sugar, then we headed on up.

I caught site of the glow of light above me before coming round a bend. The sky was above me, and light reached down into the cave. I could see the face of a friend (who had been on entrance duty) looking out over the drop, and the last pitch became slippery, as lichen began to coat the rock. We were greeted at the top by hugs and crisps, and the glorious light of the sun – and crisps to satisfy a strong craving for salt. I cried a bit and laughed a lot, unsure what emotion I should be feeling after 30 hours underground.

Is it worth all this effort, pain, fear? Yes – the beauty is. And the pain and fear proved again, what the mind can overcome.

This time I had kept in mind I still had the walk back to the carpark to overcome, and the four of us – all pretty nackered, took it nice and slow with plenty of breaks. Another SWCC member was waiting to give us a lift down to Autrans. Sitting Dinner, and then finally, sleep.

Stalgmites in the hall of thiteen
exiting the berger after 30 hours underground
the cambridge gang near the carpark to walk to the berger
hall of thirteen
sta;agmites in the berger
Camp 1

brew of energy drink
me by a large stalagmite
the hosepipe
me at the bottom of the berger, -1100m
survey of the berger

Part 2: Canyoning

The Cambridge band left Autrans late the next day to move to a new campsite slightly deeper in the Vercors. This campsite was in a beautiful location, surrounded by cliffs of limestone. We met some other friends, and used this time between the Berger and Expo to go canyoning. I had never canyoned before, but it is very similar to caving, just with sunlight and more water. I only did two of the canyoning trips as I was quite ill throughout this period, still recovering from the Berger, but the stuff I did was great. I jumped some bigger jumps than I thought I would be brave enough to. I had another bad experience with illness in Grotte de Gournier, so afterwards spent my time walking on the hills near the campsite, and feeling incredibly lucky to be out among these awe inspiring views.

2. 3. views from near our second campiste

Part 3: Expo

The next part of the adventure was Expo in Austria. Expo is a five week caving expedition in the Loser Plateau, it is officially a Cambridge expedition, though includes lots of cavers from all over.

To get to Austria we drove through Italy. We spent a night in the ruins of an old paper mill in the hills above Lake Garda, and held our breath through lots of road tunnels.

We arrived in Austria singing Helikopter 117, and reached Bad Ausee in the afternoon of the second day, where we found the expo basecamp at ‘The Gasthof Staud’n Wirt’. Expo has taken place in Austria since 1976, and has returned to the Gasthof for most of that. The owner of the Gasthof is the wonderful Hilde who makes us very welcome, with lots of homemade schnaps. On the campsite the ‘potato hut’ is a lovely wooden building that we have to use – confusingly the beers are stored in the Potato Hut, and the frying of immense amounts potatoes takes place outside in the Bier Tent. We set up our giant tent, and enjoyed a dinner at the Gasthof.

I took my first trip up to top camp two days later, to deliver a load of caving gear. To get to top camp, you drive up to the carpark on the Loser Plateau, then walk for around 2-3 hours. Half of the walk is on lovely paths, surrounded by alpine meadows and cows with ringing bells, but then you leave all paths behind and head out onto the Limestone pavement. The terrain is rugged, spiky and full of cracks. The way to top camp is guided with cairns, though it is very easy to miss them and go off route. Carrying heavy loads over this terrane is incredibly tough & I found it intimidating to start.

After the long trek, we finally arrived at top camp, where ‘Stoney Bridge’ came into view: Top camp is set up underneath a large limestone arch that gives it shelter (as well as a complex set up of tarps). The sleeping area has been terraced over the years, and at the bottom the ‘kitchen’ is set up with gas stoves, big sealed tubs full of food and goods, and at night, lit by the glow of candles.

A few days later I was up at top camp to stay. Top Camp is, I believe, the most beautiful place I have ever seen in the world. The sun sets over the mountains on the horizon, filling the whole sky with colour. And when the weather change you can sit out, watching the storms roll in across the distant Dachstein glacier. The limestone plateau stretches out, spotted with mini pines. The sky at night is filled with so many stars you can no longer see the constellation. I slept beside friends, listening to rain filtering through the rock, breathing the clear cold air.

Caving in Austria was again different to any I had done before. Unlike France, the caves are not beautiful or filled with calcite formations (though there are some interesting though rarer calcite formations to be found). Additionally it was cold. The caves were a constant 2*C, and some passages had strong breezes that made it even harder to stay warm when you were waiting on someone rigging or surveying the cave.

As the plateau is so inaccessible, Cambridge Expo is really the only organisation to explore these caves. Over the years the Expo has built up surveys of the cave systems on the Plateau. I was involved in surveying in ‘Balcony’ cave and in ‘Happy Butterfly’ Cave.

Some of my highlights from Expo are:

- Sleeping out under the stars on the limestone plateau. Some nights at top camp I carried my camp bed out from under the tarp onto the flat limestone before top camp. Under the moon the limestone would glow a gentle silver. Shooting stars fell regularly. I woke to the warm sunrise over the distant Dachstein glacier

- The Kresh. The group of young first timers on expo became known as ‘the kresh’ (aka creche) for our constant giggling and silliness. There was so much fun, games, gossip, and singing. It was so special to live amongst these wonderful people.

- The beauty of top camp.

- The food. It was certainly not a culinary masterpiece, but the joy of custard porridge, or the morning’s third packet noodle, or a big portion of boil in the bag curry, is a very special thing, when all you eat on a 10 hour caving trip is sweets and chocolate. And a big pile of salty & oily chips with salty & oily egg on return to base camp was the perfect thing.

- Caver songs. Though most are terrible parodies of bad pop songs, singing together in the caves brings so much joy.

- Surveying. I really enjoy the systematic rigour of cave surveying, particularly being on ‘book’: recording the measurements taken by the teammate with the laser & drawing out 2d plans and elevations of the cave passage. It is very closly related to the geological mapping I do as part of my degree (though I never enjoyed how could you get surveying in a 2*C cave).

- Finding new cave. I was able to name a huge chamber we found at the bottom of Happy Butterfly Cave. It was a 60 m pitch (which feels ginormous when you are descending into it from a tiny crack in the roof), with a bolder choke at the bottom. I called it ‘defying gravity’ for the absurdly large bolder that was suspended, as if by magic, in the middle of the chamber.

- The ‘no spanner’ trip – one of my early caving trips was so full of mistakes it became very funny. It started with Mealy forgetting her over suit and having to walk all the way back to top camp to get it. Then Frank lost me and Oakem in the cave deciding we had gone to get water. Then having regrouped and finally reached the spot we were meant to rig, we all realised that no one had remembered to bring a spanner, so we wouldn’t be able to tighten any bolts! Me and mealy decided to start digging out the mud in a blocked up tunnel like moles with our hands – completely unnecessary given the amount of unexplored passages on expo, but good fun.

- Digging Matilda. Me and Mealy learnt to survey in another tiny passage we had aimlessly decided needed digging. We came armed with shovels. By 'digging' this meant lying horizontally in narrow passage and singing "Don't come a digging Matilda with me" for quite a time before deciding we’d tested Martin’s patience quite enough.

- The geology. The Austrian limestone was full of fascinating fossils, weak interbeds, faults, and interesting hydrological features. Descending down the entrance series in Balcony Cave, there are Megladont Bivalves 30cm across, and some huge corals that cause the surface to look pockmarked. One of the teams that camped in the Balcony cave found a vertebrate spine fossil.

My last day on Expo, was the day of the expo dinner (occurs halfway through expo). I was very sad to leave top camp for the last time and enjoyed a final night out under the stars. Expo Dinner involved lots of food, lots more Schnaps, lots of speeches, and lots of fun, with the Kresh table plotting ways to keep evryone entertained, including throwing the expo leader into the river at the Gasthof.

The next day I set off in Luke’s car for the long drive back to the UK.

I had had a remarkable time I will always remember, visited cave no human has ever been to, learnt so much and saw such beautiful sights.

With the 1966 grant’s support, I am able to plan caving in my free time this term, and look forward to introducing the beautiful sport of caving to many new people on university novice trips.