Down and Dirty

Our flashlights showed an eerie landscape - sharp-edged boulders scattered haphazardly across the damp, sandy ground. The echo of trickling water told of a stream running somewhere nearby. There was no sky overhead, just a ceiling of ragged rocks.

We were deep underground in a cave in Western Pennsylvania, exploring part of a system of caverns still being mapped. Perhaps only a dozen people had found this spot. Probably only a few hundred ever will.

Topside, mobs of outdoor lovers interface with nature via their designer hiking boots and snowmobiles. Underground, tightly knit groups of cavers strap on well-dented helmets, stuff extra batteries into the pockets of their worn jeans, and lace up scruffy boots as they leave daylight behind and discover the secrets of Mother Earth on a very personal level.

That sense of exclusivity is one of the attractions of caving. (That's what the enthusiasts call their sport, by the way. "Spelunking" has fallen out of favor as being too academic and archaic, not to mention hard to spell and pronounce.)

The exact number of cavers is unknown, but the National Speleological Society - the largest group - has 12,000 members. They share a certain affection for moles and other creatures that shun the light. And they enjoy playing outside the box.

"The people that cave seem to be people who are drawn to do something that nobody else has done," says Camille Mueller, the Operations Manager for the NSS. "It's the closest thing to space exploration that you can do here on earth."

The underground world is often like another planet. Caves are filled with oversized building blocks kicked over by careless giants. Rock formations as bizarre as any found in the desert Southwest tower overhead, except that they are a hundred feet below the surface. Some caverns are as big as a ballroom, with ceilings so high that flashlight beams never find them. A few minutes later, you're squeezing through holes so tight you think you're toothpaste in a tube.

Caves result from eons of long, slow erosion. Ground water seeping into the earth slowly dissolved minerals in the rock and washed it away. What was left were the non-porous rocks and holes where the minerals once were. All of those landforms - caves, disappearing springs, sinkholes - are lumped under the heading of 'karst.'

During those million or so years, the water sources retreated or dried up,
leaving sediment behind. This slowly solidified, creating bizarre shapes that often look like junk food from a troll's pantry. Petrified mud flows of hot fudge ooze over rocks, knobs of caramel corn stick to the walls, and curvy ribbons of geologic taffy hang from the ceiling.
Other caves are a fairyland. "There's this cave where the floor is covered with gypsum crystals," says Camille of one place she and her friends discovered. "It looks like angel hair that people used to hang on Christmas trees. The whole floor is covered with these finely woven, individual tiny hairs."

Ask her where to find the cave, though, and she gets cagey. While the initial attraction of caving is the novelty of exploring, confirmed cavers go underground for a dual purpose - adventure and conservation. Casual cave crawls aren't on the agenda.

"Exploring is important and fun, but the real purpose isn't to promote caving as a sport. It's for conservation. We don't try to promote with rappelling and all that stuff. That attracts people who aren't interested in preserving the caves and who get themselves hurt. Our members do a lot of scientific research and conservation besides the exploration."

For all of the apparent ruggedness of caverns, they house a delicate, intricate eco- and geosystem that cannot be repaired once it is damaged.

"Even if a person doesn't go in with the intention of vandalizing it, just touching the formations can stop growth. Just accidentally turning around at the wrong time, you can destroy a formation that took a thousand years to build."

After exploring and mapping a cavern, the cavers often 'gate' the entrance, literally blocking the opening in order to protect the cave from over-enthusiastic explorers. The NSS purchases caves or leases them from landowners in order to preserve them from the curious and inexperienced.

Conservation is only one reason for the caution. Caving is an exciting hobby, but it's definitely not a do-it-yourself sport. Something as simple as a twisted ankle can mean a 12-to-24 hour rescue effort. Hypothermia threatens lost or injured cavers. Even the most seasoned cavers don't go underground without at least two other partners.

My cave trip at Laurel Caverns, about 40 miles east of Pittsburgh, started with a detailed safety lecture. We were outfitted with safety helmets, which our guide checked to make sure were securely fastened. That seemed a little overprotective, until the first hard rap against the rock ceiling. After that, I appreciated his concern and checked the fit of my helmet many times.

On the surface, the size of something is gauged by what's around it - trees, buildings, or a car parked nearby. Underground, those points of reference disappear. Unless there's someone standing beside a rock, there's no way to tell if it's the size of a fist or the size of a Winnebago. Novice and even some long-time cavers experience vertigo until the depth perception adjusts.

"Let there be light" is the motto of the caver, since without that, you aren't going anywhere. The blue-green glow of your Indiglo™ watch might be warm and friendly, but it's not exactly a beacon in the darkness. Spare batteries and spare flashlights are high on the checklist of supplies. Gloves and kneepads aren't required, but make gripping and crawling a lot more comfortable. Sturdy shoes, however, are nearly as important as a hard hat. Hiking boots are ideal, since good ankle support and tread are vital.

No mater what it's like above ground, temperatures in the caves are always in the 50s. A long-sleeved shirt that's expendable if it's torn on rocks or is a victim of terminal grime is part of the uniform, as are jeans or other long pants made of durable material. Baggy pants are out. So is Spandex™.

All cavers have a few pairs of jeans with unusual ventilation - usually the seat - as souvenirs of their trips. They'll happily tell about how the pant's leg got caught on a particularly interesting rock or how the seat was shredded while sliding down a steep passageway.

Cavers speak about "three, four, and five points of contact." They are part of the primary rule of moving through a cave: never let yourself have less than three parts of your body touching something solid. That means two hands and a foot; two feet and a hand; a hand, a foot, and your rump. The steeper the path, the more points of contact. "Five points" is tops - both hands, both feet, and your bottom. It's not elegant, but it's an effective way to work down a slope or through a crawlspace.

It'll never knock Tai-Bo™ off the charts as a fitness fad, but caving is definitely a workout. Be at least moderately limber. Back backs and bad ankles are good reasons to take up championship hot-tubbing instead of caving. Muscles that were heretofore unknown will announce their presence in the days following a day's crawl, and bruises will bloom in many intriguing places. In a warped way, that's part of the fun. There's a certain macho feeling when everyone dons caving gear, flicks on their flashlights, and heads underground. For grown-up's, it's an excuse to get as grimy as a three-year-old in a playground. And casually mentioning that you chipped your nails while scaling a boulder a half-mile underground makes everyone else's weekend sound pretty mundane.

Commercial caves offer an easy way to sample caving. Nationwide, there are over 100 caves open to the public in 25 states. Obviously, most of them are in mountainous regions, but Florida, Iowa, and Indiana have caves, too. They all offer self-guided or escorted walks through well-developed caverns, complete with walkways and lighted corridors. Those are a gentle introduction to the subterranean realm, letting newcomers decide if they can handle the next (lower?) level. About 30 of the caverns offer 'exploration' tours, the novice level of real caving. They average anywhere from two to five hours, cost around $30, and are a good introduction to the adventure side of caving.

My 'wild' cave tour at Laurel Caverns is typical. The caverns have almost three miles of surveyed, but undeveloped, passages that aren't on the standard walking tour, and we clambered through most of them. We slid down dry, sandy conduits and channels slick with water seeping from above. We tiptoed through shallow streams and pulled each other up boulders, then wormed through the tube-like openings bored through the top of them. Finding a large clearing, we switched off our flashlights to sit in the darkness and rest. The absolutely blackness was unnerving at first, but after a few well-deserved rest stops, it felt almost natural and was actually relaxing.

Our guide carried maps, but even after studying them, we newbies couldn't tell where we were. Most of the stone-lined corridors looked alike to our inexperienced eyes. Landmarks - maybe 'cavemarks' is more accurate - were familiar to him, but to us, they looked like every other pile of rubble we crawled over.

By the time we reached that unmapped cavern, and stood in a spot as alien as another planet, even our spare flashlight batteries were starting to fail. Reluctantly, we climbed back to the surface. Stepping into the daylight, we saw a panorama of mountains and pine trees. Lovely, to be sure, but sometimes, the best views are underground.
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