ABCaves

Arduous. Absent. Awe. Barren. Blissful. Bleak. Creatures. Creepy. Crawly. Dark. Damp. Dusty. Evanescent. Epic. Extraordinary. Fragile. Festering. Fear. Gloomy. Gargantuan. Gritty. How and why would anyone fancy being in a place with so many harrowing and haunting qualities? In a place where many of the factors are unknown – where the sole source of leaking light looms only at the cracks of the entrance and leaves us with nothing but the artificial beams brought on by our heads. Jittery and jumpy, we begin to slowly descend as the natural light leaves us amongst the glittery specs shimmering on the stalactites above and the stalagmites below. Knowing very little about the terrain creates a mixture of wonder, astonishment, and anxiousness to crawl under my skin as each foot forward stirs up stagnant dust. Lurching through the clamorous dens, bats that have been stirred from their sleep squeak and flap dramatically around the corridors. Many of the other cave dwellers – the snakes, millipedes, and spiders – remain unaltered by these foreign movements as they silently squat in their respective crevices. Nearby, drips of water plop into puddles at what seems to be a predictable cadence. Old age has created this underworld, yet one foreign finger laid upon its structure could eventually destroy it. Pellets of sweat speed down every square inch of my body as I carefully explore, aware of the feeble state the cave inadvertently finds itself in. Quintessential in cave etiquette, our guide models appropriate cave behavior as we meander throughout this ancient monstrosity. Rearing what seems to be years upon years of experience, he makes us aware of the cave’s age, yet allows us the freedom to explore its beauty individually. Slow and steady seems to be an appropriate pace down here – at least that’s what he seems to be doing. Thoughts continuously dart in and out of my mind as our casual stroll through spacious caverns transforms into limbo-like movements through narrow openings. Under pointy rock formations, we crawl into murky puddles – arguably miniature streams. Vexed by our disturbance, tadpoles squirm through my fingers as my hands sink slowly into the muck. Weary from being out of cave-shape, I begin to crawl awkwardly as my arms tremble trying to support my frame – an unintentional swim surely in my near future if they give way. X-Marks the spot where somebody in the group surely won’t make it much further. Yelps or cries were not heard – to my surprise – as we worked our way from our hands and knees back to our feet, feeling the glowing satisfaction of a cave well conquered. Zealously, the group and I reach the pinnacle of our caving experience; our crew remains morally unscathed with grins from ear to ear, paired with clouds of breath rising through our lamps as our chests heave up and down with the gritty satisfaction of a job well done.