Sunset Hole
By E. E. Roberts.
I. Discovery And Exploration.
A small party remained in camp at Gaping Ghyll throughout Whit-week of 1909, and during that time Addyman and myself had the good fortune to discover some of the passages into which every pot-holer who has stood on the edge of Braithwaite Wife Sink Hole was sure that huge depression must drain.
The drainage area immediately E. of Mere Gill is neither large nor conspicuous, but what water there is gathers into a little stream and disappears in the limestone about 200 yards from Mere Gill Hole, close to the wall which runs past the Sink Hole and Hardraw Kin, and quite 300 yards from the Sink Hole. The existence of a practicable passage at this point had been noted by Addyman in 1908, and as it is unnamed we have christened it “Sunset Hole.”
After a hard day’s labour at Gaping Ghyll, dismantling tackle and wrapping up ropes and tents, we reached the hole at sunset and went in, but with very slight hope of making any discoveries. The two narrow entrances unite within a few yards from the start and the passage is comfortably high and wide for a considerable distance, but right angled corners are frequent, and when it begins to alternate between inconvenient lowness and painful constriction their frequency is bewildering. We found a number of small but interesting stalagmitic formations.
The surprising length of the passage ‑ it has been ingloriously compared to a drain-pipe ‑ soon suggested some connection with the Sink Hole, and we tramped steadily through the water for nearly 400 yards before we came to the first abrupt drop, one of 8 feet. There were two more in the next hundred yards or so, and in one of them the explorer may be quite certain of getting a partial soaking. The last is close to where the passage opens into fine vertical shaft. The water, however, does not fall directly down this shaft, but over another pitch into a narrow tunnel running, close to the shaft, and flows as far as a horizontal slit in the partition wall, through which it falls to the bottom, a depth of 40 feet.
Owing to the singular structure of the place, we found it possible, next day, to fix a rope on a ledge gained from the shaft and lower a pulley to the level of the slit, and each of us went down in turn. A stream could be traced among the stones beneath a low arch, and under this we crawled, only to meet with a grievous disappointment. To the left was a very low passage down which the water ran, and little progress could be made along it, but excavation certainly promised good results. To the right the roof rose rapidly, but everything was choked by a slope of clay and stones. The presence of a horse’s skull and bones and the appearance of the slope point to a former communication with the outer air, and aneroid readings at a later visit made the point reached a little lower than the bottom of the Sink Hole.
The general direction of the zig-zags and the estimated distance led us to conclude that where we found the bones had been an entrance, now choked up, from the bottom of the Sink Hole.
Our second return to the surface, like our first descent, coincided with sunset, and the hour’s tramp over the pass to our camp inspired us with a profound respect for the icy breath of a June wind.
We were sufficiently interested to return in September following, and spent some time in removing the material at the bottom of the Sink Hole. We lowered the level of the débris at the rock face several feet, and heard the roar of the fall quite distinctly, but another expedition to the interior revealed no openings above the clay slope. Provided the excavation was not in the wrong place there seemed to be a good chance of re-opening the entrance from outside.
At the Club Meet at the Hill Inn in September 1910, a large party went in, and with two men working outside, and vigorous burrowing inside at the top of the boulder slope, a short tunnel was made, and four or five men with all the tackle, succeeded in forcing a passage through and emerged at the bottom of Braithwaite Wife Sink Hole. Neither this stream nor that inside Mere Gill Hole are known to have been dosed with fluorescein.
II. The Accident To Mr. Boyd.
At Whitsuntide, 1910, a camp was pitched for the third time at Mere Gill by a party consisting of Mr. and Mrs. Payne, Miss Payne, Miss Stevenson, W. F. Boyd, Erik Addyman, Stobart, Hazard, W. M. Roberts and myself. We intended to explore Mere Gill further, and failing that, Hardraw Kin (Far Douk), and Sunset Hole.
The furious storms of the preceding week-end, had been succeeded by fine weather and strong drying winds, but not sufficiently so to lower the water in Mere Gill below the mouth of the cave, so we fell back on the alternative and easier programme. Quarrying was, however, first tried at the bottom of a small sink whence a crack certainly leads to the top of the upper passage of Mere Gill. The evening was very fine and the party lay round the sink till late, while enthusiasts laboured in turn but in vain. Several large blocks of weathered limestone were removed, and arms, and even heads, thrust into the passage, but the hard stuff defied all the attempts of the amateur miners and their tools.
As there was no need for haste it was not till 11-30 a.m. on May 15th that Miss Stevenson and the seven men entered Sunset Hole, leaving Mrs. and Miss Payne above ground. Four of the men had been through the Gaping Ghyll Flood, but for two of the others this was their first experience of serious pot-holing.
The lengthy journey of 500 yards or more was made without getting very wet, and a pulley fixed up at the top of the shaft in such a simple and convenient position that we unanimously decided to use only a single rope, contrary to our general practice of using a second or hand line. All the party descended expeditiously to the bottom of the pot-hole, and the leading men entered the side passage, removed the stones blocking the very low bedding plane and endeavoured in vain to crawl under. A more favourable spot at the foot of the boulder slope was then attacked, and for two hours enthusiasts worked with a pick in turn, lying down and pushing back the stones and, clay with their feet. In the end it became possible to wriggle a short distance under the bedding plane, but not, as we had hoped, into a clear passage containing the stream. The water appears, in fact, to make its way through the base of the slope and the entrance to its further course to be buried under the mass.
Soon after 3 p.m. seven out of the eight had been hauled up, and, damp and dirty, were looking forward to the delights of cleanliness and tea. We were using a very thick untarred rope of no great age, which had not undergone any severe wear and even now appears quite trustworthy. Boyd was the last to ascend, and had been hauled some 30 feet out of the 50 feet, when the rope suddenly came slack into our hands. So soon had we been expecting to see his face appear over the edge that our first thought was he had taken his weight off the rope by grasping some ledge; our next, even after the dull awful thud which followed, that the rope had not, could not have, broken! We shouted ‑ a faint call responded ‑ and the party at once set about lowering a man into the shaft whilst Miss Stevenson and I set off back for another rope. We reached the camp at 3-40 p.m., and a boy visitor there at once ran to the Hill Inn, about a mile away, with a message to Mr. Kilburn, the landlord, and the latter straightway bicycled to Ingleton, four miles away, and summoned Dr. Mackenzie, whilst I went back to the scene of the accident.
Meanwhile Addyman had been lowered on two climbing ropes, only to find Boyd lying in the water, seriously hurt in one side and leg, but conscious and marvellously collected. The loop of the rope breeches round the injured leg having been removed and the two ropes tied on, we were able to raise him to the level of the broad ledge at the top of the pot-hole, Addyman keeping him clear of the wall by holding a tail line from the opposite side of the pot-hole. Boyd showed wonderful pluck, and under his directions we were able to haul him, lying on his sound side, up a groove we were fortunate enough to find in the edge, on to the ledge itself. Addyman, my brother and I then left for the surface, leaving the other three remaining to face the more trying period of inaction.
Addyman went to the nearest farm and commandeered a plank ‑ a leaf, in fact, of a thick table. We others were well on our way back again down the passage, with blankets and food, when a prolonged shouting recalled me to the entrance where I found Dr. Mackenzie had just arrived. The state of affairs was explained to him and due stress laid on the difficulties of such a journey for the inexperienced. With great courage, for which we shall ever be in his debt, Dr. Mackenzie decided to go in, and at 6-30 p.m., provided with a mackintosh, he started. Addyman went in front dragging his plank behind him. Use has deprived caves and pot-holes of much of their terror and mystery and has disposed the pot-holer to regard a journey which offers no particular climbing difficulty as very much of a high road; but on that particular journey we looked rather at the surroundings with the eyes of the ordinary man, and could estimate the journey in terms of the difficulties which lay before us.
Dr. Mackenzie’s pluck as he pushed steadily forward filled us with admiration. First came the steady tramp forward ‑ the going fair but wet and seemingly endless ‑ then the low stretch, the long narrow twisting bit, the two short pitches, some hundred yards of wide high passage, the Third Pitch-and, at length, the doctor was within a few feet of his patient.
Two acetylene lamps, turned full on, gave a brilliant light, and, with a rope round his waist, Dr. Mackenzie made what examination he could of the fractured thigh. After binding Boyd to the plank with bandages and putties the doctor was guided back to the surface, where, after getting dry clothes at the Hill Inn, he kept weary vigil through the night in a tent at the entrance. The ladies also went through an experience to which the happenings at Gaping Ghyll the previous Whitsuntide were but a trifle. All night the fire was kept going, wood and other necessaries got up, and hot bottles held in readiness. The terrible uncertainty of the issue of the work inside prevented any sleep. A long wait followed the doctor’s departure to allow of blankets putting some warmth into Boyd, and it would be about 9 p.m. when we began to move. Getting the plank off the ledge into the passage was not so difficult as we anticipated, and, foot by foot, progress was made to the Third Pitch. A rope was tied round Boyd as he lay bound to the plank so that we were able to get above it and haul up the end. A good deal of strength was needed here but the rapid conquest of the difficulty cheered us remarkably.
From the Third Pitch to the Second Pitch was the easiest stretch of the journey. Carrying the plank on our heads we were able to cover it with only one rest. The Second Pitch was passed by sliding the plank over the back of a man as he knelt in the pools above the waterfall, but the First Pitch was desperately difficult; and, even when it was behind us, we had only come to the most serious difficulty of all: the narrow S bends which extend well over fifty yards. The first bend is so sharp that it could not possibly have been passed but for an “eyehole” of barely the right size. The height of the passage, however, was in our favour, and we found it easy to climb high up and travel along astride of the plank. A long rest was taken here, the surroundings explored, and a plan of working devised by Payne. Starting again, it became necessary, after a short distance, first to saw off part of the plank, and then to turn Boyd on to his sound side and raise the head of the plank. Jammed between the plank and the rock, Boyd was raised higher and higher and worked forward, inch by inch, some of us on the ledges above dragging at the rope, the others pushing from below, or working at the plank in awkward positions between.
Never for a moment did Boyd lose consciousness, and to this is due the fact that none of the shifts to which we were driven caused further damage to his thigh. With complete coolness he controlled our operations, and, by grasping the ledges, forced himself onwards. For probably a full hour his position was almost vertical. At one time it seemed almost impossible to move him either forwards or backwards, but the edges of the plank ploughed so much stalagmite from off the walls that we finally got through and the plank was worked down again on to the floor of the passage. Several of the succeeding bends proved to be remarkably undercut on the outer side, and, though the plank was occasionally turned on its side, it was marvellous how we escaped having again to raise it on end. At length, after a struggle lasting some four hours, we emerged from the S bends into the wider part of the passage; Hazard went forward to the surface, and at 3-30 a.m. Mrs. Payne appeared with a canful of hot soup.
The serious difficulties now lay behind us, but the task of carrying Boyd the remaining 300 yards along a watercourse which did not allow of two walking abreast called for all our remaining strength. The jagged roof did not permit of us carrying him on our heads, so we got him forward by two men standing astride over him, whilst another walked backwards at the head and a fourth pulled on a rope. The plank was usually swung forward between our legs and then put down, but occasionally it was possible to stagger forward some distance. Every now and then a halt was made to cover Boyd with blankets and get some warmth into him. Inch by inch he was slipping down the plank, but though he must have suffered greatly from the contact of his feet with the rock and from increasing numbness, he rarely complained.
Hazard and Stobart worked tirelessly, but when daylight was sighted about 8 a.m. on Monday morning the rest of the party were nearly played out and Boyd was numb with cold. There had been rain during the night, and, indeed, pot-holers rarely come from below to find anything but weather of which the principal feature is a cold wind. Such conditions could only have had serious consequences to the injured man, and it was with surprise and gratitude that, after a desperate struggle with the last low tunnel, we carried him out of the hole into a morning of calm and sunshine, the hottest of any I remember that year.
Dr. Mackenzie had gone back to Ingleton, but Mrs. Payne was soon on the spot, Boyd’s soaked clothing was cut off, and his circulation restored with hot bottles and piles of blankets, and at 8-30 a.m. the doctor arrived to set the fracture. So delightful was the weather that Boyd remained on the moor till Mr. Kilburn and three volunteers from the neighbourhood arrived with the ambulance at 2 p.m., and by 4 p.m. he was in bed at the Hill Inn-none too soon, for very shortly afterwards a terrific thunderstorm broke over that side of Ingleborough. The injuries proved to be a fractured thigh and bad bruises, and it was only after six weeks in bed that Boyd was able to get about, and he has not yet completely recovered from the effects of his seventeen hours exposure. Mrs. Payne spent a second sleepless night nursing Boyd, and yet a third on the railway journey returning home, through the Midland Railway ignoring its connections. We desire finally to express our gratitude to Dr. Mackenzie for his plucky journey into the cave and prolonged wait on the moor, to thank Mr. and Mrs. Kilburn of the Hill Inn most heartily for their invaluable assistance, and to acknowledge gratefully the kindness of their visitors and the offer of help we received from the members of the Yorkshire Speleological Association who were in camp at Rowten Pot.
The accident, its cause and its lessons, have been discussed many times since. The cause is obvious ‑ an untarred rope of great strength, suitable for use in Gaping Ghyll, had been attacked by rot at one point, and this can only be ascribed to imperfect drying. Considering the conditions of use underground, the usual state of English weather and the numerous occasions on which camp must be broken up in wet weather, it is clear that no untarred rope, once used, ought to be trusted again without being first severely tested. Presumably tarred ropes are less liable to rot, and yet ropes similar to this, and of much greater age, have been, and are used, with safety. For the last seven or eight years, for example, a very long rope has hung on the Meije and is still so strong that it was seen, this summer, to take almost the full weight of a guide and his employer in succession. The lessons of the accident appear to be:- (1) The drying of ropes is of extreme importance; and (2) A second rope must be used wherever practicable. Many instances, however, have been quoted which disclose an ever present risk, on long descents, of ropes and ladders becoming entangled in the most singular manner, and prove that it is scarcely justifiable to accuse a party of recklessness if they decide to tackle a pitch by lowering men on a single line. Many indeed are convinced that this is the safest method for the long descent into Gaping Ghyll.