Into the Mines!

         The Cave Club has taken me to some interesting places, but this one was truly unique. It was a cave that has not been open to the public in a decade, and getting inside is a feat worthy of Indiana Jones.

We have found the den of the redneck zombies!

     This cave boasted the sketchiest entrance I have ever encountered. The actual cave is accessible only through an old mine adit sunk in the side of a mountain. To get there, we were escorted up the steep, crumbling road on UTVs (while alarming, I might be spoiled for hiking to caves now). When the old mining road became impassable, we walked the remaining few hundred feet to the gate.

With drawings of horrible death like that, who could resist?

 The first group waited outside while the rest of the kids could be shuttled up. It began to rain, driving us to wait inside the entry chamber (into the mines!!) despite the potential zombie attack.

We were warned that the adit was the most dangerous part of our journey, but we would be fine as long as we didn't touch the walls and potentially collapse them, or breathe too much of the funky fungus. Well if that's all...

I SAID NO BREATHING.

We hustled through the tunnel, only sacrificing one or two high school students to appease the fungus. One by one we climbed a thin, slippery metal ladder and poked our heads up into the actual cave. It was time to get to work surveying, though it became apparent that this was going to be a solid task.

The job of the cave club was to catalog the formations within the cave and assess their damage by humans trampling or touching them. The first few rooms we assessed were totally wrecked, and by the time we were done with them, our clothing was too.

All that remains of the last cave photographer...

Everything was coated in several inches of thick, sucking mud. If I stood in one spot to write down notes for too long, my boots threatened to become permanent fixtures. Movement was slow and awkward. My partner and I spent a solid five hours surveying speleothems in four main upper rooms. There were some interesting--and even some fantastic--formations, but overall it wasn't extensively decorated (at least, anymore).

I can't tell if they're giving me the peace sign or flipping me off.

Afternoon had slipped into evening, although I was in a cave trance and didn't think more than an hour or two had gone by. We had one final large hall to survey, and it was the most difficult. The path down was guarded by a narrow crawl lined with perfectly breakable stalactites. I slithered down on my back, desperately avoiding the stalactites hovering centimeters above my face. It was like playing a grueling game of Operation with your whole body.

Four of us finally emerged on the other side, guiding each other through with helpful shouts of "Keep your butt down!" The rest of the cave club party started back out of the cave. For us, just a quick survey to do then--

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven--wait, let me start over--

Or maybe not.

It was some of the most intense cave decoration I've personally seen. My survey notes fizzled into "thousands of stalactites & helictites, size range. . . oh crap" or something similar. I tried to take pictures, but I knew even then that none of them could convey the awe of the towering speleothems and intricate curling helictites that I was seeing. My teenage companions were similarly stunned, although my partner steadfastly attempted to continue recording estimates of what she was seeing. The fearless club leader pressed on ahead to keep us moving, where surely we would have stood frozen for a long time.

There was more cave to see--one more room that would have had impeccable formations, and was supposedly even better than this hall. But our eyes were worn out by the beauty, and were still reeling from our notetaking attempt. We couldn't do it justice today, and anything we did would just impact the cave further. Our leader called it a day, and we began the reverse journey.

So we leaped into an old mining cart and--oh wait, that's Indiana Jones again...

The door sealed shut behind us, closing off the cave once again to the world. It exists in silence except for the drip of water, slowly growing its garden of wonders. 

People should see it again someday--but how they see it needs to be managed (which is where the Club comes in). In the meantime, we have the pictures, we left plenty of muddy footprints, and we killed some serious cave time.

--The Cave Troll

 

There and back, and there again

This past weekend, I had a unique opportunity to revisit one of my very first caves, as I previously wrote about. This time, I was with real professionals. I was curious how this cave experience would match up. I remembered Ophir as being an exhausting, incredibly difficult trip--and last time we were able to drive within 3/4 mile of the cave entrance!

This, except almost completely buried in snow.

So here's the thing. I was glad for the opportunity to go on this trip, and it was fun. But it was also humbling. Sometimes I get so caught up in my pursuit of adventures that I forget the true goal is the camaraderie that goes with it.

Part of this is my desire to prove that I am not weak and that I don't need help. Like the stereotypical short man (sorry guys), I am compensating for something. I feel like I have to be able to do everything easily and without asking for help, or else I'm failing. What I don't realize is that my refusal of any help or kindness that is offered to me just comes off, well, assholey.

The truth is that I am 20 years old and new--so very new. I have this idea in my head that I should be experienced and wise by now, but what the heck? As I mentioned in a previous post, I'm pretty new to all this stuff. I didn't start backpacking or even seriously hiking until college. I've only been at this stuff for about two years, but I already think that I ought to know best.

This caribou calf has more worldly experience than me.

Ophir--my second wild cave and first technical, vertical cave--was less than a year ago. It was a very different experience this time, but I still have an incredible amount to learn. If I close myself off to learning new things I will be missing out.

So, I promise to open my ears to the people around me. But what is even harder is admitting my ignorance. I know more now than I did a few years ago, but that sure as heck is not saying much.

I'm all ears!

Every new adventure I take, I am scared, to a certain degree. This trip to Ophir with real cavers scared me so much, I nearly wished that I would get sick and have a reason to stay home. I'm not brave. I'm often motivated by pure cowardice.

While I'm at it, I might as well confess that I yelped when a bat flew toward my face. Big bad biologist that I am.

I am young, dumb, and I am going to try to do better.

Kirk out.

Going Batty

While I have talked about caving here, I have not mentioned the main characters:

Well hello, handsome.

I never quite understood why some people are creeped out by bats on the same level as spiders. They aren't lurking under your couch cushions waiting to bite you. They are minding their own business, scooping up pesky insects or pollinating your crops. In short, they have way better things to do than hang out and give you rabies.

 I have always thought these leathery, furry creatures were pretty neat, but didn't give them much more thought until recently. Just by existing as the only flying mammal, bats are entirely unique.

So are their Spiderman skills.

Insect-eating bats like Little Brown Bats save the U.S. agriculture industry as much as 3 billion dollars per year in pest control. And we've lost a million of them in the Northeast.

A million. Most people have heard of White Nose Syndrome, but they probably don't know the extent of the damage. What does it matter if fewer bats are hanging around, getting ready to tangle themselves in people's hair? Obviously, it matters a lot. Bats provide all kinds of interesting benefits, but would be terribly sad if they disappeared, if only because the world would have a little less magic without them.

Think of all the tiny corpses. Think of them!

Besides White Nose Syndrome, bats are also losing ground due to habitat loss and the impact of wind farms (which they seem oddly drawn to).

They are not all the same, either. The variety of bats make up a quarter of the world's total number of mammal species. And yet it is easy to not think about them. They belong to the darkness, are quiet, and do not draw too much attention to themselves. But heck, if we can support a superhero who dresses up like one, we can support the real thing too.

 (

               Even if you are wearing hockey pads. (comicvine.com)

I do not know precisely what direction I would like to go in the wildlife field. But I am drawn to this particular critter. I want to do something for them--I want to be in a position to help them. I never imagined wanting to run my own project--and grad school was never even remotely tempting--but now I am beginning to see.

They are an exciting species to study. Tracking down bats requires you to tour some interesting places, since they roost in trees, bridges, mines, caves, etc.

Just chillin in this hole!

There isn't always a clear reward in such work. But bats are an important part of our ecosystems, and they make give life to otherwise empty passages. Caves are shelters for some crazy awesome animals. They are homes.

I am napping. Do not disturb me.

Get to know bats, and don't be afraid of them.* Maybe buy some cool bat-related stuff and help them out. Hang upside down for a while, until people start giving you weird looks. Who doesn't think that hibernating through winter sounds awesome?

And me, I'll get back to studying. I have a lot to learn.



*(Like any wild animal, of course, don't go around handling them).