Kentucky - Down Under

I never really considered myself a caver, but I am no stranger to the underworld. In my younger days, on my father-in-law's farm in southeastern Indiana, we explored a new found cave on the family property. It should not have been too much of a surprise as it is called the Cave Hill Farm, on the Cave Hill Road. The cave, the property was named after, is common knowledge in the area. Grandpa Landwehr always said other caves were present.

In 1972 Diana's dad and brothers made a wonderful discovery. While cleaning one of the many sinkholes on the farm, with the help of an old John Deere tractor, a large rock was pulled from the vortex of the sink. One of the boys slid down into the newly opened hole and declared that a passage existed. The next day was Sunday and a troupe of five revisited the sink with flashlights and anticipation.

After a short crawl we could stand and many formations were revealed to us. The cave was pristine as no human eyes had ever gazed upon the sights we were seeing. Every turn was an adventure and we chased it some 1400 feet.

For the next several years we investigated every rumor or story of caves in our area. We even crawled through road culvert with the promise of passage at the hidden end. After nothing became of the tight arduous crawl we suspected there were evil people making sport of our enthusiasm. We did explore some of the holes that were merely legends until viewed first hand.

Over the years I ventured in many of the commercial caves with Mammoth and Carlsbad being the most impressive. Two years ago I became acquainted with Dave Zimmer, and our first meeting we were introduced to each other as having a common interest in caving. My desire for crawling underground had been replaced with big game hunting, the shooting muzzle loaders competitively and the primitive living game of Buckskinning. Dave and I shared some war stories about our caving exploits. It was obvious Mr. Zimmer was involved well beyond my experience.

It wasn't long before Dave and I made arrangements to visit the family cave. He and his crew were sufficiently impressed with our discovery, and rightly so. It is filled with formations, such as flowstones, rimstone dams, and curtains. I was pleased they had a good time.

Not long after, I was included on one of the Zimmer expeditions to Rock Castle County, Kentucky. It was the annual Karst-o-rama of the Cincinnati Grotto. As with my sport of Buckskinning, there are more folks involved in this endeavor than general public would expect. The campground was nearly full when we arrived just before dark on Friday evening. We selected a site for the two tents we brought. My wedge tent was a curiosity. It was all white canvas with a fly which was common for a
pre-1840, period camp but unique among the nylon, rainbow colored tents shared by the caving set.

After the campsite was put in order the eight of us scouted out the commercial row where the vendors were set up. A large array of climbing an crawling equipment was available. Rappelling rigs were numerous and for the first time I realized these people were serious about exploring the underworld that "normal" people would never see.

The hub of this gathering was a shelter at the base of a hill that included a food stand and bulletin boards that listed tours that could be taken. There limits on the number of people that could go in a group, depending upon the difficulty. The caves were rated and special information such as "vertical" was noted. I can remember thinking that I have never considered a vertical cave exploration.

The campsite is located on the site of the Renfro Valley Barn Dance and before that, dances were held inside the Great Salt Petre Cave. This cave was opened as a commercial cave several times, and failed because it is well off the beaten path. I guess it was too far out of the way for the casual cave visitor. It's entrance was just up the hill from the shelter. so we visited the salt petre cave that cave dances were held in the recent past, and the display of the equipment used to extract salt peter from the cave floor for the manufacture of black powder. This was it's use in the last century. I convinced myself that this is the reason I was along. Anything that relates to black powder and history is of interest to me.

Folks were leaving to explore caves that very evening, which at first I considered odd. After reflection I realized that once inside of any cave, the time of day was of little importance. It is always dark and the rising and setting of the sun is of little concern below the surface.

Many of us show our passion for our chosen sport by bumper stickers, decals, or maybe a vanity license plate. My truck bears the letters FFFF G, which any flintlock shooter would recognize as the grade of black powder that is used for priming the pan of a flintlock rifle. It gives fellow muzzle loaders a chuckle and the rest of the unsuspecting public wondering what it could possibly mean. I realized that cavers have a similar sense of humor by the plates that I saw in this campsite. CAVIN, CAVER, BATTY, RAPPEL,NDRGRND,SPLNKR, K-VIN, GET VRT, & I B CAVN license plates were scattered throughout the vehicles assembled in the campground.

Dave and the others mapped out a plan for the morning excursion. My opinion was politely consulted, but I had no opinion as I was along for the ride. We enjoyed the campfire and soon filed off to bed. When morning came we pitched in for a camp breakfast and visited with our caving neighbors. Some were already covered in cave mud. During our morning visit to the shelter we arranged to go with a group in The Crooked Creek Ice Cave which is within walking distance of the grounds of the Great Saltpetre Preserve. It was listed as horizontal and guided. Sounded safe enough to me.

Our guide was Dennis Green whom was listed in the program as one of the persons who mapped this cave. The air temperature and humidity was already becoming uncomfortable and an ice cave sounded like a good idea. As we climbed a long slope we passed a depression that had a thin veil of fog hanging above it. I heard someone in front of us comment that this would be the way we would be coming out.

Our group was over a dozen strong and as knee pads were put on and gear checked Dennis gave us a safety talk. He said that he had led groups of scouts and mixed groups into this cave many times. The Zimmer crew was made up of four of us in our 40's and four teenagers with Neidra, the only female of the group. Neidra had been on several rappelling trips with the core group but had not caved before. Much to my surprise, not twenty yards into the cave we had to traverse a 70 foot deep chasm. With our feet on one ledge and hands on the other, we used techniques of holding on for dear life that I had not considered. At one point as the opposing wall moved away from reach, and the cavers had to stick a hand in a crack in the side wall and arch the palm to hold on, while swinging around a formation. The footing was slick and the experts talked us through it. Neidra whimpered a bit but being the adventurer she was she made her way with encouragement. Personally, I was uneasy, but tried to hide my fears and follow the instructions.

In all we spent over five hours in this cave and visited several levels. The exit was reached by what was called a miners ladder. In reality it was a six inch diameter pole with notched cuts on either side for steps. I wished I had my tomahawk to square them up a little, as time and use had rounded the footholds. One by one everyone made it to the upper level by either scaling the miners ladder, or with some of the more ambitious rock climbers picking their way with hand holds and techniques that only the wiriest could have maneuvered.

We entered the twilight of the exit and made our way into the daylight. Being acclimated to the cave temperature of the mid 50's I was not prepared for the stifling heat, that had built while we were below ground. The thin veil of fog was the dividing line between the cave air and the rest of the Kentucky countryside. My glasses fogged immediately when I stuck my head through the mist. None of us were anxious to leave the cave entrance because the difference in temperature was so great. Those of us with spectacles, raised them into the warm air to equalize them so they would not condense and leave us blind for the walk back down the steep hill. I searched my companions for any swatch of dry cloth to wipe them with when the party moved out.

When at the creek bed, most of us waded right in, to rid ourselves of the mud we had collected from the cave. We discussed our adventure in small groups as we trudged back to the campground. By now it was late in the afternoon, and as for myself was ready for a meal and planned to while the rest of the day away relaxing in camp. After eating and catching our breath the conversation turned to where we were going next.

The father and son team of Bill and Billy said they could not stay. They had to be home by ten o'clock the next morning. This meant a night excursion and the Skylight Dome was the target of choice. During the vote I abstained as I had no preference, except I was willing to stay behind and have a nice venison stew ready for them when they returned. This suggestion was met with howls and they insisted I come or miss out on the thrill of a lifetime. I became uneasy when Dave started breaking out the rappelling gear and checking it over. Packs filled with ropes, harnesses, and hardware, of the like I had never seen, were going to be the instruments of our descent into the Skylight Dome. I retrieved my copy of the program and leafed to the maps to get a sense of what we were in for. The Skylight Dome is one of the three entrances to the Pine Hill Cave and it is a 125 foot domed pit. People usually go in the walk-in entrance and view the dome from inside the cave.

We packed up and were off at about 7:30 in the evening. The pit entrance was on a wooded hillside and looked unassuming to the casual observer. The hole we were to enter was a opening in the rocky hillside, about the size of the seat of a kitchen chair. The experienced cavers began shaking out the harness and tying off the rope. Billy made his way into the small hole and stood on the rim of a 6 to 8 foot diameter opening about 8 foot below the initial entrance. He proceeded to let the rope down and place buffers to protect the rope as it broke over the edge of the rock rim. Dave's son, Pete, was the first one to travel to the bottom. This position is the most treacherous as the rest of us would have someone on the end of the line to "belay" incase of trouble. A pull on the rope from the bottom is enough to stop a rappeller, and Pete would have to rely on his own resources to stop his descent.

I watched as Pete slid into the darkness as he made his way over the rim under Billy's watchful eye. Fear started to well up in me as I was scheduled to go third. Dave looked at my pasty white face and asked if I was all right. I admitted to him, I was having some high anxiety. As the others helped me get into my harness and continued coaching me, I noticed Neidra seemed to be looking forward to her turn on the rope. I considered running for the truck but the fact that an 18 year old girl was more than willing to go, I had to stand in and do the deed. When my turn came I peered into the inky blackness and could see the head lamps of the two that went before me. Looking up from the bottom their head lamps looked like pen lights.

I made way into the small hole to the rim Billy was standing on. We went over the plan a couple of times and Billy said to take my time and enjoy the ride and scenery on the way down. I leaned into the rope and found myself suspended over the deep pit. The fact that total darkness surrounded me, may have been the only way I could have dropped off the rim. When my feet left the last of solid ground and I dropped below the rim I found my self dangling in mid air and was at the peak of a dome that now was 50 foot across. A slow decent let me look over the many formations and the spectacle that nature had carved.

Being top heavy I had to hold myself upright with my left hand while controlling the speed of my descent with my right. The strain was starting to be felt about half way down. Even though I had been told to just hold on with my hand cupped I had the rope in a death grip. Through the heavy leather gloves the heat was building from the friction. About thirty feet from the floor, I told the guys at the bottom stand back because I was coming down. When I hit the bottom they immediately steadied me. I can never remember feeling so exhilarated. The patted and congratulated me as if I had won the Indy 500. I have to admit I was pretty proud of myself too. I looked up and was amazed at the small shaft of light that marked the point of entry. I stood back while the next adventurer descended. Pete helped me get out of my harness and carefully laid it aside as the ring was too hot to touch. Dave was the last one down and he came flying and with ultimate control touched down gently. We all were talking a mile a minute and a feeling of companionship and accomplishment filled the bottom of that pit.

After all the gear was stowed in the backpacks, we all gathered and held hands. In complete darkness we closed our eyes and thanked God for the beauty that he had created and for the safe descent we had just made.

While the first leg of this trip was the most exciting we spent the next four hours exploring this magnificent cavern. We crawled and duck walked through tight places and stood in awe in passages that were over a hundred feet tall. At one point Dave splashed through a large pool as the others climbed the walls to stay dry. Knowing Dave as I do, I figured that if he was this willing to get in the water that there was probably no avoiding getting wet further down the line. My assumption was right as we climbed a small waterfall to enter another dome that had water falling from it's ceiling. The centuries of different water levels sculpted the sidewalls into beautiful shapes. I realized that we were seeing first hand sights that only a handful of people would ever have to opportunity to gaze upon.

After what seemed like miles of passage, and an arduous crawl we exited the large walk-in entrance. The fact that it was now after midnight, I was actually outside and looking at tree trunks before I realized we were out of the cave. As I turned to look back, the view of the entrance was impressive. It was forty foot high and twenty foot wide. I am quite certain we did not see all of this cave. I for one, had about all I could stand, and was glad to be on the surface again. We climbed out of the creek bed that eventually was swallowed by this enormous cave and walked down a set of railroad tracks toward the truck.

Once at the truck, most of us settled in while a small party returned to the Skylight Dome hole to retrieve the rappelling gear that was tied on the rope we used to descend. We talked of the adventure and I admitted to Bill that I felt empowered and all the worries of the work-a-day world seemed to pale in comparison to what we had just endured. To myself, I felt lucky to be alive. Years ago, I had gotten over the impulse of riding mechanical bulls and hanging by my toes from the top tiers of a tobacco barn. Risk taking was for foolish youngsters I concluded. This trip went against my theory, but I would not trade the experience for anything in the world.

I wonder if it's possible to rappel from a hot air balloon.

Gary E. Johnson