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Page 13 of 13
Alco-hole
By Harding and Richards
NGR 40675884. Banwell.
Length: 6.5 ms VR
5ms
Alco-hole is a previously missed ochre cave in the woods
that crown the hill not far from a ruined cottage. It is a rift with an ochre
vein in ceiling and it has been used as a dump for numerous bottles; gin in the
main, hence the name. The floor is choked with material and it appears that the
mine goes deeper. Bats have taken up residence.
There are other filled in workings in the same woods that
lie south east of Alco-hole at around 100 ms distance. There are also badger
holes in an ochre cave 100ms south west of this location.
The Adventures of Zot 2
‘Zot goes to Thrupe Lane SwalletÙ
By
Mike Wilson
As I was involved in this venture, with Rich Long, and
others I have noted their comments and then filled in the gaps accordingly.
So here we go, one year, many moons ago Zot and I decided on
a trip to Thrupe so he and ZotÙs Dog got themselves ready for the off by having
a last drink or six in the Hunters the night before!!
Sadly as had happened many times before, ZotÙs Dog didnÙt
make it any further than the pub because Zot wandered off and left him there.
Still I guess this avoided any complications at Somerset Customs regarding
rabies [not that I am in any way saying that either Zot or his dog were
Rabid!!] Just in case you are all wondering what happened to the dog left in
the Pub, his friends would either take it home for him or look after it until
we saw him again. It wasnÙt just dogs he used to leave in the Pub it was girl
friends as well!! H and I once had to take a young lady home from a pub in
Mells when he decided to go home and leave her there. ItÙs a long walk from
Mells to Paulton in high heels!!!!!!! [I canÙt be doing with this!!]
I digress; we arrived at Thrupe Lane Rich Long Mark, myself
and eventually Zot, with the intention of going to Atlas Pot via the EagleÙs
Nest route. We changed in Mrs ButtsÙ garage entrance and politely declined a
glass of their cider [deciding that later was safer than sooner].
Zot opened his screw top drum and this wonderful aroma of
rotting clothing and damp wet earth wafted out. It doesnÙt pay to wash or dry
caving grots too often he said, its bad luck!! Actually the smell was a little
like compost when wet. Or a recent grave dig!!
Next question, “hey team has anyone got a spare oversuit!!”
Obviously the answer was no, not many people carry two suits except for Shepton
Sean who has three in case the conditions change. “Well” said Zot, “I will just
have to use this one that I found by the side of the road!!” He held up an
emaciated heap of tattered road workers yellow waterproof overalls that had
obviously been thrown away in a dirty ditch and left to rot. The zip was
useless so he tied the waist and sleeve cuffs with baler twine [very effective
stuff in the wet], poured washing up liquid into his wellies [he always did
this to hide the smell and help him prise the boots on]!!!!
And so on down the cave. As you all know beyond the entrance
pitch is a rift, which is quite sharp, spikey and not at all water worn. ZotÙs
suit was soon shedding yellow bits everywhere and making tearing noises. This
continued all the way down through to Butts chamber, down the streamway to the
top of the waterfall. Mark, Rich and myself abseiled down the pitch while Zot
guarded the rope, at least that was his excuse. When we were prussiking up,
Rich was heard to say that we would have no problem finding our way back just
follow the yellow markers. This proved to be the case. There were chunks of
ZotÙs suit all the way back to the entrance. !!!! Having filled 2 gallon
containers with Mrs ButtsÙ excellent homemade cider we retired to the Belfry to
share it amongst our mates.
NB the other effect of filling your wellie boots with
washing up liquid is that they foam at the mouth as soon as you encounter any
water much to the amusement of your mates, just another route in the life of a
caver.
Harold.
Multi-Club meet to
Forest of
Dean Fri 4th May to
Mon 7th May
By Peter Hellier
Because of all the other things in oneÙs life, I decided to
pop over on Saturday morning and return Sunday evening. This maximised time
caving and face-showing on the domestic front, as well as a bit of socialising
on Saturday night.
Worried that some keenos may have been setting off at 9:30,
I arrived at about 9:15 and looked for the BEC contingent.
Mike Wilson was still/again doing battle with his
knees, and not going underground. I decided that Chris (Zot)
Harvey was probably not caving as no caves
had streams big enough for his kayak, but knew Sean Howe was up for something.
So, I found myself heading for
Slaughter
Stream
Cave
after the key had arrived at 10:30. In the meantime I experienced EmmaÙs
wonderful organisation by completing the Camping Register, the Going Down a
Cave log, and the What I Want from the Chinese tonight order.
To be honest, my presence turned an 11 man SMCC trip into a
12 man multi-club trip, and I somewhat relied on their tackle, but at least
they need not worry about being ‘the slow oneÙ with me around. Based on a
laminated A4 survey (thanks again to Emma), and a little bit of ancient memory,
we had a cracking trip.
This was my first
Forest of
Dean caving trip so I
did not have a great deal of pre-conceptions. The entrance consisted of an
impressive series of fixed ladders against endless stacked, shored and
cemented-in boulders, and a final fixed ladder out of daylight. The first pitch
to rig was just a few metres, but we rigged it properly with ladder and line,
though really it was only needed for one small part. The main pitch was a
rather nice 11m freehang. The breakthrough crawl led quickly to a streamway
which we followed downstream. By then we had split the party up, and I was in a
group of 5.
The plan was to do a round trip as referenced in the guides,
with a bit on the side to see the famous dog skeleton and prints. Having left
the stream just above Sump 1 , we regained it and followed down towards Sump 2
before returning to The Coal Seam and the circular trip. Generally we were on a
fairly well beaten track most of the time, but without the A4 survey we would
have needed a copy of descriptions from somewhere. I was very surprised at just
how much fossil cave there was, of good caveable proportions – I think I was
expecting something less mature. The dead dog had travelled (when it wasnÙt
dead) a considerable distance judging by the footprints in the now dried up
mud, quite apart from the mystery of how it got there. Now, even its bones
appeared powdery, though its collar, bowl, teething ring and lead seemed to be
in very good condition.
On returning from there we met the other party of 5 (2 had
returned earlier), who had done the same trip as us. I still canÙt work out how
we did not meet them on our return from the lower streamway earlier…
The connection back to the breakthrough crawl was down a
climb that was a bit splashy even after the very dry weather we had in April,
but a nice end before the climb back up to the late afternoon heat. We spent 4
- 4.5 hrs at a sensible pace with quite a number of social stops. There was not
much very technical or demanding, though my knees and back found the Sand
Deserts hard work, and we all got a bit warm in some of the very dry areas. The
sand in this cave being, I believe from the limestone itself, which is largely
a brown sugary textured and coloured dolomite, and not any nearby
sandstones.
A superb trip overall, and suitably celebrated at the pub on
the way back, courtesy largely of ‘Butty BachÙ a local brew.
Sunday, and a trip to Wigpool Mine. On the upside, this was
a lead trip with fine formations, so not to be missed, but on the downside was
the fact that it was a mine, and ‘smallÙ. When our guide turned up on a
motorcycle combo, and changed into shorts and sweatshirt, I think I was not the
only one to fear for the worth of the trip. Our leader, ‘MoleÙ obviously lived
and breathed mines like this, and was a wealth of information about the mines
in the area. Unfortunately he forgot the key to our exit, so we had a half hour
to enjoy the bluebell woods before pacing off to the entrance.
The trip started in what was more badger hole than mine, and
very red and ochreous. The theory is that the upper levels had all been dug out
as miners extracted the ore, traces of which could be seen at times, though it
was clear that at least some of the surfaces were fully natural. In fact the
upper series felt more of a cave than a mine.
It has to be said that this was a photo trip, which lent a
relaxed air to the proceedings, and normally there were formations to be viewed
while the photographers did their stuff ahead. The formations in the cave were
generally pure white, which was particularly stunning against the very dark
reddish rock. And they were good. They were also very fresh, and small in size,
though not extent, which supports the idea that the passage did not exist
before the voids were mined out.
We then dropped to the mid levels of the mine, which were
very mine-like, and one could march off along the 2m square section passages,
and we were shown where the different shaft would have entered. There was
little hardware remaining other than a few timbers.
The plan was to do a circuit into the lower levels, but
water levels prevented us from completing the loop. This meant we had to head
back up which certainly generated some heat, first back to the main haul-ways,
then on up to the highlight of the trip, some more formations.
This involved a climb up the dip of the rocks which here
were very steep, and caused a few slippages. The main body of the formations
were on a deep shelf of rock, so could be viewed as it were from the side. The
highlight being a small pool containing some pom-poms under the water, and
worth the trip for those alone. It was not far from there to the exit, for
which we were glad Mole had obtained the key.
One of the main mysteries was how Mole had managed to
avoided getting his knees filthy, and seemed to have avoided sitting on a wet
rock for the whole 4 hr trip. Presumably he was more agile than the party,
which was half his age (writer excluded).
WhatÙs happening at the Belfry
By Henry Bennett
Since the beginning of the club year a huge amount of work
has gone on at the Belfry. This has been achieved through working weekends and
a few members putting in time when they get a chance. One of the main driving
forces has been our Hut Warden, Jane Clarke, who has input a huge amount of
effort and time. Numerous maintenance jobs have been undertaken including
repainting the main room, hallway, loos, doors, outside walls, providing more
visitor storage in the bunkroom and mattress covers, new seating and better
storage in the changing room, taps replaced, automatic lights fitted…the list
goes on. As well as this, a massive effort to clean up the Belfry, inside and
out, has been undertaken and several loads of rubbish have been dispatched to
the council recycling centre. Many thanks to all involved, you know who you
are.
Recently we identified that the gas cooker was a serious
hazard and need urgent replacement. Fortunately, Ian “Slug” Gregory had some
contacts in the kitchen equipment auction market and managed to provide us with
a fantastic commercial oven and hob to replace it. After the initial problem of
it not fitting through the door (amazing what an angle grinder will do) we got
it in. Chris “Batspiss” Batstone also pulled out all the stops to getting it
plumbed in. Many thanks to both of you!!
Work on the extension is progressing steadily. While many
might not see any material progress a huge amount of effort has been made on
arranging quotes for work and getting key things ordered. The stairs are due to
be delivered later this month and we expect a rush of progress after they are
installed. Once again we need skilled bodies (or people who can work under
instruction) to move things forward. Contact Henry Dawson if you can help.
Hungary
Budapest Caving
By Zot and Mr Wilson.
Some months ago Zot and I were invited on a trip to
Hungary, starting in
Budapest doing some caving there and then on
to Aggtalek for the rescue conference. We decided to go to
Budapest
for a very long weekend and then return to
England for various reasons.
There were other BEC members on the trip Emma Porter and
John Christie plus various members of the CPC .In fact it was a fairly
international occasion with 2 cavers from the
Lebanon and of course several
Hungarians who were a great help.
We decided to travel to
Luton
Airport
as the fare was only £50 return from there [the drawback being that the flight
left at 7.00am. The plan was to all meet at the airport and travel together.
Thanks to Slug we stayed overnight at his flat in
Bedford
and travelled down to
Luton early in the morning.
Arriving at
Luton car park Zot says, “here
Wils IÙve left my wallet at Slugs!!!” No chance of going back to
Bedford so we decided
that I would sub him for the trip.
We had forgotten what a dump
Luton
airport is!! The baggage wait was huge and disorientating and the security
check was worse. Zot was stopped because he had a tube of toothpaste in his
hand luggage, not in a clear plastic bag !!And everyone had to take their shoes
off [this did not include Zot as he was wearing wellie boots to save baggage
weight!!]
Budapest
airport was a complete contrast, clean and tidy with no delay; Emma had laid a
bus to take us to the caving hut. Thanks Emma!! [Called the JÓSEPH-HEGYI] it
was situated on the edge of a hill with a wonderful view of the
Danube and the City a really peaceful spot. See photo.
There was a little co-op type shop nearby which sold food
and beer. Dino, one of the local cavers kindly negotiated a price per crate [3
per day].
The main cave in this region is situated in the cellar of
the hut and is called Jóseph-Hegyi-barlang. It was found while excavating the
foundations for a house on the site and is a geothermal cave. The entrance is a
concrete tube with a fixed ladder [of the window cleaner type] approx 10m long.
This is followed by a fairly small twisting route down to an awkward 14m
vertical free climb with a hand line. After another series of crawls the cave
opens up into a series of chambers. These are extremely beautiful with gypsum
crystals, and a wonderful floor that resembles a collapsed wedding cake [this
was a lake that had dried up and collapsed leaving layers of icing like
sections on the cave floor]. There were also gypsum and aragonite flowers in
various sections of the chambers. All in all a fantastic place to be!! We managed
a fairly lengthy photo trip thanks to the local cavers who provided access and
a leader.
Out in time for a sausage barbecue, kindly put on by the
local cavers, slightly marred by one of the Hungarian group who seemed to think
that green leaves are a good thing on a fire, not true!!! ItÙs oh so hard to be
happy when you are engulfed in choking green smoke, but the cheap beer helped
no end. There was also a very yappy sausage dog, which was extremely lucky to
escape the barbecue!!
Day 2 saw us walking to the next cave, which was about 1km
away. This cave was called Pál-völgyi-barlang. A round trip was planned with a
bonus [a bar at the end]. Quite a large group that day so we split into 2
groups. I believe the cave was about 2 km long. Tourist entrance and then a lot
of tortuous crawling passages, some tight, interspersed with several small
chambers. The cave itself was formed by geothermal activity so it was warm and
fairly dry. The best kit is grots and overalls and plenty of liquid. Just a
small anecdote, Zot was following a Hungarian girl, and got stuck in a tight
twisting tube. Three of us were following behind and heard him say, “Here love
I think I am stuck can you pull on this, harder, harder!!” The imagination ran
riot at this moment and we all fell about laughing. Luckily he got through only
to find a tight spot further on.
We also had a contingent from
Guantanamo
Bay
with us, all wearing orange overalls I donÙt know how they managed to escape
the regime!! Its tricky caving with chains around your ankles and a blindfold!!
This was a 4-hour trip in what was in places very soft rock,
which is a kind of marl [not red]. Very interesting cave and bar.
The last day for us was spent in Budapest R and R; Dino took
us to a Gothic spa where there were several pools some warm and sulphurous and
some cool. There was also an outside pool with a wave machine [great fun]. To
cap it all 2 scantily clad young ladies in thongs took ZotÙs eye, while I
pointed out that there were a large number of East European ladies with blue
floral swim hats and oceans of cellulite [he wasnÙt interested in those].
We finished the trip off in a restaurant, which did eat and
drink all you can for 2,400.00 florints about £10.00 in sterling. Many thanks
to Mr Dyson, Dino, Emma and all the other Hungarian cavers who helped to make
this trip a success.
I Forgot More Than YouÙll Ever Know (About Wigs)
Music: Don & Phil Everley
Lyrics: N Harding and D Irwin
For those of you who have yet to visit HuntersÙ Lodge Inn
Sink a myriad of delights await the visitor. The strenuous exertions of negotiating the 45-degree incline of Pub
Crawl is amply rewarded by emerging into Happy Hour Highway with its splendid
vistas. Beyond that a fine, well
mud-padded crawl through a phreatic tube leads to the wonderful formations and
colours of the BarmaidsÙ Bedroom, with the bones yet to come, and below a fine
descent on the stal flowed Pewter Pot leads to the awesome connection into
Bron Ale Boulevard. However the cave does have its Siberian
section. On entering Happy Hour Highway
one can levitate under a menacing boulder and enter an unpleasant descending
crawl, which is guaranteed to rip holes in all new oversuits. A rope assisted descent of Rocking Rudolph leads
to a tight crawl, which in turn becomes a strenuous contorted wriggle and we
emerge gasping into the Stygian gloom of Hangover Hall, a truly unpleasant
place of oppressive menace. From there
we dug a further 20 feet into Stillage Sump chamber. For six months we attempted to penetrate
further by bailing said sump. This
involved the construction of an elaborate dam system by which we blocked the
stream, which backed up Rocking Rudolph whilst in our self-inflicted tomb we
attempted to dig and pump the sump. However, like St Genevieve and King Cnut before us, we failed to hold
back the water and eventually with winter storms coming on we abandoned the dig
and adjourned to the relative comforts of the new dig at Rose Cottage.
Jake Baynes was
convinced though that further extensions of HuntersÙ Lodge Inn Sink were not to
be found at the bottom of Slop 3, at the bottom of Pewter Pot which seems to be
the general consensus, but by trying to achieve a high level bypass of Stillage
Sump. Fine in theory, but the actuality
is that above Stillage Sump there is a fearsomely unstable looking boulder
ruckle. For some months Jake has been
asking me to accompany him down to inspect said ruckle and I had been able to
fob him off with a series of well-constructed excuses. Finally though, Jake resorted to emotional
blackmail and said that he was going come what may and if I refused to go with
him he would make a solo trip. So, on a
fine Wednesday evening in August when all sensible folks were frolicking in the
warm embrace of Rose Cottage, I reluctantly returned to the dig. It was worse than we remembered, the detritus
of the abandoned dig lay everywhere like a failed gold rush claim. Everything
was covered in inches of black silt, a clear sign of the winter ravages. Surprisingly a large toad had survived and as
on our previous trips we frequently extracted small toads, this time we rescued
one fat toad, which at least gave some point to the trip. Jake meanwhile had ascended into the ruckle
and urged me to take a look for myself, which I did with some reluctance and it
looked just as dangerous and hostile as remembered. Jake urged me to imagine this potential
digging site when safely shored and with proper shoring he is convinced that we
can then move horizontally above the sump. This idea, danced just over the
horizon of my imagination, failed and all I could achieve were visions of the
whole lot crashing into the sump. So I
made a hasty descent whilst Jake pushed and prodded at the boulders, several of
which made ominous rumblings. I decided
it was foolish to remain below on the downward side of the ruckle and so moved
upstream listening to the alarming crashes and bangs coming from above,
thinking that at least from an upside position I could retreat for help should
the whole lot collapse. To take my mind off the situation l looked again at the
leaking dam and wondered if in CattcotsÙ day the remedy would have been simply
to block the holes with some fine weasel hair, horsehair and wildebeest hair
wigs as per Nick HardingÙs excellent articles on The Wig In Caving. Eventually the foul air, which was giving us
headaches, was made worse by JakeÙs noisy injections of methane gas so we
called it a day and retired to meet the Rose Cottage crew in the HuntersÙ.
Being intrigued by NickÙs article I had begun doing some
research into both The World of Wigs and Samuel Butler of “Fleas are not
Lobsters, dash my wig” quote. Relieved
as I was to get out of H L I S, I began spewing Samuel Butler quotes all over
the digging crew until Tony, desperate to escape my word hoard said “why not
put them in a BB article Phil” and so for those of you who would like to know
more about Samuel Butler here are some more of his quotes. Its was surprising to find that many of them
are in every day common parlance including “spare the rod and spoil the child”
which because of change in usage of words became twisted by the Victorians as
an excuse for adults to inflict violence on children, whereas originally it was
to protect against such activities, spoiling at that time having beneficial not
detrimental connotations.
There are lots of others such as “it is better to have loved
and lost” etc. etc. but here are a few less well-known ones that seem apt to
BEC.
“You can do very little with faith, but you
can do nothing without it.”
“
Independence
is essential for permanent but fatal to immediate success”.
“Though analogy is often misleading, it is the
least misleading thing we have”.
“Life is the art of drawing sufficient
conclusions from insufficient premises”.
“Life is like playing a violin in public and
learning the instrument as one goes on”.
“Any fool can tell the truth but it requires a
man of some sense to know how to lie well”.
“The advantage of doing oneÙs praising for
oneself is that one can lay it on so thickly and exactly in the right places”.
“The public buys its opinions as it buys it
meat, or takes its milk on the principal that it is cheaper to do this than
keep a cow. So it is, but the milk is
more likely to be watered”.
“Morality turns on whether the pleasure
precedes or follows the pain. Thus it is
immoral to get drunk because a headache comes after the drinking, but if the
headache came first and the drunkenness after it would be moral to get drunk”.
“It is the function of vice to keep virtue
within reasonable bounds”.
“Civilisation rests on two prerequisites. The first being the knowledge that
fermentation produces alcohol and the second being the voluntary inhibition of
defecation”.
(Imagine the BEC dinner without
either of the above.)
“And shall I unlock my word horde? Nay for I do fear it much.”
(This when cornered by a rampant
bore in the HuntersÙ.)
As for wigs themselves, the custom of wig wearing is of
great antiquity. If, as seems probable
the curious head covering of a prehistoric ivory carving of a female head found
by M. Piette in the cave of Brassempouy in Landes represents a wig (see Ray
Lankester, Science From An Easy Chair, fig 7) the fashion is certainly some
100,000 years old. Wigs were known
amongst ancient Egyptian, Greek and Chinese cultures either as an adornment or
to supply the defects of nature. They
were also used theatrically and in second century
Greece various comic and tragic
masks had hair suited to the character represented. A. E. Haigh, (Ancient Theatre page 221, 239)
refers to the black hair and beard of the tyrant, the fair curls of the
youthful hero and the red hair characteristic of the dishonest slave of comedy.
Both Romans and Carthaginian Empires were major centres of
wigness. Polybius (iii, 78) says that
Hannibal used wigs as a
means of disguise. The fashionable
ladies of
Rome were much addicted to false hair
and we learned from Ovid that the golden hair imported from
Germany was
most favoured. Juvenal (vi, 120) shows
us Messalina assuming a yellow wig for her visits to places of ill fame, and
the scholiast on the passage says that the yellow wig was characteristic of
courtesans.
In more recent times the wearing of false hair was prevalent
amongst the ladies of
Europe. Queen Elizabeth I had 80 attires of false
hair and, interesting for a virgin Queen, one merkin. For those of you not familiar with the
merkin, it is a pubic wig initially first documented in the 14th Century and
later used by ladies of the night as a means of disguising the ravages of
syphilis. During the American War of
Independence and War of 1812, a merkin, because of the similarity of
pronunciation, was used as a pejorative term by the English for an American. I understand that such use has recently
reoccurred on the Internet. I am also
told by my researchers that merkins are now widely used in erotic films where
the elder viewer dislikes the modern tendency for a shaved pubis. Mary Queen of Scots also had numerous
wigs. When her fratricidal relationship
with
Elizabeth
culminated in her beheading, the High Executioner, being drunk on Malmsey,
botched the job taking three wildly inaccurate swipes before severing MaryÙs
head. As tradition demanded he then held
the severed head aloft for the traditional round of applause. Consternation ensued when he found he was in
fact clutching a wig and MaryÙs bald head bounced to the ground and rolled
towards the less than pleased audience.
It was not until the 17th Century that the wig, or peruke,
was worn as a distinctive feature of costume. The fashion started in
France
at the court of Louis XIII who was prematurely bald and wore a wig imitating
natural hair. The fashion gradually
spread through
Europe and as most folks were
plagued by lice (creeping dandruff) the advantage of taking the wig off and not
having to scratch was much appreciated. Wigs became larger and under Queen Anne obtained maximum development,
covering the back and shoulders and floating down over the chest. It was at this time that their shape and
forms altered and began to denote rank and occupation with the wonderful names
and descriptions in NickÙs previous articles. The fashion began to fade in the reign of William IV and now only
remains in the judiciary and parliament. Hats and for certain occupations helmets took precedence. In caving the practice had more or less died
out before the 2nd World War except for the occasional ceremonial use. Older members will no doubt recall the famous
BEC powder blue wigs worn by committee members right up until the late 60s when
they were consumed in the fire, which destroyed the Belfry Mark II. If any older member has any of the famous
colour slides of the committee members in full regalia, perhaps they could
submit to HenryÙs excellent web site.
EdÙs note: This article had been lurking at the bottom of
Phil CÙs cupboard of curiosities and having been rejected by the Wig on a
previous occasion it was high time it went in.
A Caving Anecdote
Phil Coles
For reasons I don't pretend to understand - rugged
individuality?-cavers generally don't like organised team sports especially
spectator sports like football. However there are a few cavers that buck the
trend....
Paul Brock phones the Noble household to see if John can
come out to play i.e. go caving. John's good lady wife Julie answers the phone
and tells Paul that John has gone to watch a football match with Phil Coles.
Paul, disappointed that John is not available, tells Julie
that he would quite like to see a football match but he is put off by all the
fighting/swearing/drinking and general unruliness that he might encounter.
Julie retorts, "Well Paul, you don't HAVE to go with
John and Phil"
Boom boom
Reciprocal Rights with Other Clubs
Henry Bennett
The BEC maintains a reciprocal rights scheme with a number
of clubs around the country and weÙve recently been confirming and reviewing
the list. At present this is the list of
clubs who we have rights with:
-
Bradford Pothole Club
- Craven
Pothole Club
- Grampian
Speleological Group
-
South Wales Caving Club
-
Yorkshire Subterranean Society
If you are planning on staying at one of these clubs you
should ensure that you book in advance of your visit and avoid members only
weekends. Most clubs now have online diaries and booking systems which you
should take advantage of.
These arrangements enable you to pay members rates for use
of facilities. No other rights or
privileges are conferred by these arrangements. In particular, we remind you that reciprocal rights do not bring any
access to caves managed by these clubs. The normal permit systems have to be followed. Additionally, you should check in advance
about access to hut keys if required.
Hollow Hills
Make Hay!
So little time – so many caves.
The one certainty in life is that we are here for a short
time then itÙs off into that great darkness where no caverÙs lamp will
illuminate. With more recent losses in the club it should remind us that it is
ever more important to keep caving. All the trivialities of day-to-day
existence amount to nothing in the end and it is not so much how we live but
what we leave behind. So the more caves you find the more you will be
immortalised in speleological history and the more glasses will be raised on
your passing.
There are no excuses! Keep digging.
Just a reminder about submitting articles: Text files are
fine, preferably as a word document. Photos: BLACK and WHITE JPEGS – and make
sure the image sizes are reasonable – no 1000cms x1000cms please! I think most,
if not all photo packages will convert colour snaps into B and W. Photoshop will get good images down to and
below 100kb or so.
If you are able please could you also email a copy of the
images to Henry for the web version of the BB. Full color and hi-res is what we
need here!
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