Forgot to say. A friend sent us an invitation to join her and friends on a pot-holing trip. I laughed. And laughed. Whatever made her think that I’d even give something like this a try?
It doesn’t help that I still can’t forget how I freaked out when I entered the cave neck (somewhere in Wales) on a ‘let’s bond and hug a tree!‘ work trip that was designed to make us all feel so bonded that we wouldn’t strangle each other when under work pressure. Teamwork! Pro-active! Blah blah.
Anyroad, the cave was damp, dark, cold, dark, slimey and dark. I upset someone by muttering, “This reminds me so much of Welsh cooking.” I think he jeered, “Everybody knows Scottish cooking is complete shite!” (Partly true.)
Just before I turned round to make a comeback, the Team Manager shouted as he stood on a small rock, “Guys, guys, guys! We’re on the edge of something so powerful. Let’s not ruin the potentially poignant moment.” There was a long bout of silence. Then a small snicker. And another. Then all laughed quietly. The Team Manager was upset because he was actually serious.
When we got to that gap in a cave wall where everyone had to crawl through. It was so narrow – about the length of a trade paperback, or so it seemed to me – that I was paranoid I’d get stuck. One portly bloke took one look at the gap and laughed. There was no way he could climb through.
An trained instructor bounced over to us and chirply informed us we would be all right. Give it a try! Go on! The portly bloke’s eyebrow arched. The instructor laughed crackily and light-punched his beefy arm, saying so cheerfully, “You’ll be fiiiiiine! We have had all sorts through there. No one had ever got stuck. No one!”
The portly bloke gingerly asked, “How long have you been an instructor? I mean, wh-when you were qualified?” The instructor beamed and said, “Six months! I have been doing it for yonks, though!” That was it. The portly bloke wouldn’t give it a try. And I was right there, next to him. We went back to the camp site and nattered while we waited for their return.
When they did, they were all “That was fantastic! You shouldn’t have chickened out! You don’t know what you’ve missed! It was fantastic. I feel soooo achieved! So powerful! Top of the world! Let’s do it again tomorrow!”
However, we eventually learnt some of them broke down in tears and some panicked. And almost all had to be pulled out. Upon learning this, the portly bloke and I rolled our eyes so hard that we almost went blind. Either way, I knew there and then that I’d not try it again.
And there is this film: The Descent.
So I declined the invitation, but Will’s going to give it a go as he hasn’t done it before. Well, good luck to him. I told him, “Don’t forget to update your will, in case you meet a flesh-eating creature or two in there.” Will didn’t think it was funny.
the Team Manager shouted as he stood on a small rock, “Guys, guys, guys! We’re on the edge of something so powerful. Let’s not ruin the potentially poignant moment.”
I’d be sniggering too. Or trying to work out if he meant that a tunnel collapse would be powerful, and my death in that tunnel would be poignant.
Either way, I’d have been wanting to head back to the camp site with you.