The Encounter

by Donal Myrick

  Spider shot back, “Not funny.”

  Meanwhile, back up top, Peggy had been busy setting up her squadron of drones. She set a unique GPS coordinate for each of her four drones to take off from and to return to for recovery. The problem, of course, was that once the drone entered the cave, the GPS signal would be lost, and all flying and maneuvering would have to be accomplished manually. Fortunately, with the aid of Scott’s financial input, each of the drones was also outfitted with a rudimentary inertial navigation system that would help flying and recovery after the GPS signal was lost. Another problem was that the radio and video signals do not propagate through rock, so line-of-sight had to be maintained for control. If line-of-sight was lost, recovery of the drone would have to rely on its inertial navigation system to return. Unfortunately, line-of-sight could not be maintained from ground level where Peggy had her control station setup. This was an anticipated problem for which the solution required the placement of a multi-channel relay near the mouth of the cave with a clear line-of-sight view that went far back into the cave. So, once the relay was setup down on the ledge, Peggy was in business. She quickly set about photographing the process of lowering equipment and securing it on the ledge.

  After clipping her belay line into the newly set anchor, Spider ventured out once again onto the sheer wall. After several minutes and tedious little progress, Spider yelled back to Bufford, “This is not working; I absolutely can’t find a damn thing to hold onto. This rock is crazy slick, it is like glass almost.” And with that, she was again dangling in midair ten feet below her last anchor. Spider clipped in a Jumar with a stirrup and quickly made her way back up the belay line to her last anchor and then back to the ledge where Bufford was waiting.

  “We have got to rethink our plan. Clearly, we aren’t going to make it very far, very fast or very safe doing it like this. If I keep falling every five feet or so, I’m going to get beat up pretty bad. And, that is not what I signed up for.”

  Spider continued, “Have you noticed how smooth this rock is? You can’t get a friction hold, a toe hold, or anything. It doesn’t seem natural.”

  Bufford remarked, “Yeah, I noticed. Standing here, watching the difficulty you are having just trying to find a handhold of any kind, has made me very aware that this is not like any climb we have ever attempted before. And you are right, this is really weird rock.”

  Spider said, “The further you go in, the worse it gets because you can’t see. Where I quit, there was nothing above, below, or in front of me to glom onto. We need a new plan. Let’s get the group together and powwow over this.”

  By the time everyone got topside, everyone pretty well understood the problem. Ted pointed out, what they all also knew, that this cave was not a solution cave formed in limestone but rather a fault cave formed in very hard and very ancient crystalline rock that was later capped with sandstone. Ted was especially intrigued by the glassy nature of the cavern walls. Volcanism was not a geologic process associated with the region. Despite this fact, he postulated that there must have been at some time a volcanic fissure here, and the earthquake had caused the rift to form along the boundary of the fissure. Obviously, something unusual had happened here, so perhaps volcanism could have played a part. Maybe yes, maybe no.

  At any rate, what this group knew in the here and now was that these glassy walls were going to make normal technical climbing techniques and skills null and void. This was not good news and was a potential show-stopper bringing the expedition to an end before they even really got started. A lot of ideas were tossed about, none of which appeared workable of feasible.

  Then Peggy offered an idea. “Spider, how many of those little razor-thin chocks do you have?”

  Spider said, “Two, the one I carry in my mouth and a spare.”

  Scott chimed in, “Actually, we have about a dozen. I put an order in for some of them too. What do you have in mind?”

  Peggy said, “I’ve been taking pictures of everything we have been doing. The cameras on my drones are very good. I think I can scout ahead of Spider with my drone and locate any small cracks that might exist. I can use the robotic arm on my big drone to place one of the small chocks into the cracks and clip in a hand line. Spider could then clip onto the hand line, and Bufford could lower her so she could do a pendulum traverse over until she was below the chock. Then she could climb up, set an anchor, and repeat. This way, we could make ten, fifteen, twenty, or maybe even thirty feet at a time.”

  Everyone agreed that even though doing a pendulum traverse from a chock placed by a drone sounded a bit sporty, it appeared feasible, and they needed a plan. The mood of the group began to change from gloomy to enthusiastic. Bufford suggested that the best way to proceed would be to seek places for chock anchors well above the planned route for two reasons. First, the small razor chocks don’t take lateral loads well at all. They need to be loaded vertically to be safe. Secondly, the higher the anchor point, the larger the pendulum steps that could be made safely. This looked like the way to go. Preparations were made to try this process first thing in the morning. Rock climbing history was going to be made.

  After breakfast the next day, Spider, Bufford, Max, and Jim rappelled down to the ledge to begin the assault. Ted opted to stay topside. He wanted to see everything that Peggy’s drone saw. While Bufford and Spider made their way out to the last secure anchor, Peggy began her survey. She started out about thirty feet above Bufford and Spider. She began a slow up/down survey of the cavern wall staying about three feet from the wall. As expected, cracks were few and far between. Peggy searched a zone about ten feet high and twenty-five feet wide before spotting a promising looking crack. It was small but appeared to be several inches deep. Peggy carefully maneuvered the robotic arm, and expertly placed the small chock snuggly into the crack. Then she gave the small attached cable loop a downward tug, and the chock was set. Peggy then flew back down to Spider, retrieved the hand line, and flew back up to the chock. She clipped the hand line into the chock and then flew back towards the center of the chasm to photograph Spider as she began her pendulum swing. Spider took up the slack in the hand line, put her weight on the line, and Bufford slowly paid out the belay line to allow her to swing gently forward for over twenty-five feet. After getting stable, Spider quickly pulled out her hammer drill and set a new anchor. And just like that, twenty-five feet of progress was made, safely and with comparatively little effort.

  Peggy flew up to retrieve the razor chock. The retrieval was a bit more difficult than was anticipated, but with some tugging, wiggling, and whipping with the attached hand line, the chock finally popped loose. With success under their belt, everyone was ready to make the next leap. One problem, in the excitement of the night before, Peggy had forgotten to put the drone on charge, and consequently, the drone’s battery had dropped to below fifty percent. So Peggy had to make a swift retreat to switch out batteries.

  This process was repeated an additional six times over the next nine hours, with a cumulative result of almost two hundred feet of progress. Max remarked, “With this kind of progress, in another four days, they will be at the pit.” Although progress was relatively rapid, it was not without difficulties and severe hazards. On two of the six traverses, Peggy was left hanging below Bufford because twice the razor chock pulled loose as Peggy began her pendulum swing. On two other swings, the razor chocks were so tightly wedged that Peggy’s drone could not retrieve them.

  At camp that evening, Jim remarked that “You know, we probably shouldn’t have Peggy retrieving the razor chocks at all, but rather we should make them into permanent hanging lines. It would certainly make moving equipment back and forth and our coming and going in and out much easier. We could just clip into the fixed-line and clip onto the hanging line and ‘Tarzan’ into the cave.”

  Bufford and Spider both chimed in with an enthusiastic “Yeah, I agree, I think that might definitely be the way to go.”

  Spider said, “I think that is a good idea also b
ecause really, I don’t relish the thought of having to meticulously climb along the fixed-line each time we go in or out.”

  Bufford pointed out that, “If the hanging line doesn’t work out well, then we need to rig a lower fixed rope for our feet so that we can kind of skinny along because so far there are zero footholds along the route.”

  Jim chimed in and said, “Regardless, I think foot lines are going to be necessary, so let’s just plan to do them as well.”

  Scott said, “Well, we do have plenty of rope, so we might as well use it. And, besides, rigging those extra lines will give Jim, Ted, and Max something to do while Bufford and Spider are forging ahead.” Scott went on to say, “Miguel, that leaves you and me to stay topside and guard the home front.”

  So far, Miguel’s role had just been that of observer and camp cook, a job he filled surprisingly well, but you could tell he was itching to become a real member of the team. Miguel said, “When are you guys going to teach me how to rappel and do that technical rope stuff? It looks like a lot of fun.”

  Max said, “Miguel, when do you think you will be ready? You aren’t afraid of heights, are you? How do you feel about dangling on the end of a rope in the dark a hundred feet above a roaring river?”

  Miguel replied, “Si, si amigo, no tengo miedo. Mañana I’ll be ready.”

  Max said, “I’ll bet you will be. We will start your training soon.”

  The next day the plan that was agreed to the previous evening was put into motion. Bufford and Spider moved into the cave first and made their way to the last permanent anchor. Peggy’s drone was already ahead of them, searching for a crack for the next razor chock. Jim, Ted, and Max followed behind, climbing the lines hanging from the razor chocks, and replacing the chocks with a secure permanent anchor. While this process seemed quite simple, it was actually quite dangerous. The razor chocks were not really suitable for sustaining the jerking load associated with a hundred and eighty-pound guy with all of his gear climbing up the rope, and as such, they were susceptible to being dislodged. Consequently, the climber had to pause every eight to ten feet and set a bolt to limit his exposure. This was very time consuming, but it paid great dividends in terms of safety.

  This plan was executed flawlessly over and over, and as predicted earlier, in a mere five days, they were at the brink of the abyss where the Churún River disappeared with a deafening roar down the deep dark abyss.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Pit

  The large crack which had formed the cave up to this point appeared to terminate here. It was like the crack had been forced apart and then slammed back together, sealing up the floor of the cave except here at the end where a hole remained open. The Churún River flowed along the narrow floor and cascaded into the open hole. The group gathered around the abyss, each hanging from a secure anchor, and gaped in awe at the frightening scene that lay before them. Although all of their helmets were fitted with open-mike communications gear, the roar of the water drowned out any attempt to carry on any kind of meaningful conversation. The roar of the river was deafening, and each of them sat in their personal silence wondering the same thing. . . “how in the heck are we going to conquer this hole?” “This looks like a death trap.” “Looks like we aren’t going any further, at least not on this trip.” After pondering this awesome scene for thirty minutes or so, the group began their slow and rather solemn retreat back to the base camp.

  Around the campfire that evening, the mood was a mixed bag. On the one hand, there was some euphoria for having successfully forged a route back to the pit, but on the other hand, there was abject concern and depression about the possibility that it might be impossible to safely rig and descend the pit with all that water flowing in. There was no way to divert it, not the least little bit, and probably not even in the dry season.

  Max, sensing the dismal mood of the group, thought that he had better get a conversation going. He said, “Okay, everyone, anyone got any bright ideas?”

  Ted said, “Well, for one thing, it is obvious that we will have to plan the descent during the dry season.”

  “No shit,” remarked Jim, “I felt for sure that there would be a place on the far side of the pit where we could rig away from at least some of the waterfall. Unfortunately, I didn’t see a place. Did any of you see a possible spot?” No one answered in the affirmative.

  Ted went on to point out that the flow of the river in the canyon in the cave was noticeably greater than the flow of the river into the canyon where the rift began. That probably meant that the river was being augmented by some subsurface source, most likely from a shallow aquifer. That also meant that even in the dry season, there probably would still be substantial flow to be contended with. Max said, “Well, I’m not going to be deterred. We will just have to engineer a way. After all, we have already advanced the art of brute force assault of sheer cliff faces by our Avant-garde use of drones. I don’t think what we have done has ever been done before. Thank you, Peggy, for your contribution to rock climbing history. So tomorrow, let’s get a good measure of what we are actually contending with and go from there. First of all, we need to figure out how deep this pit is.” With that, everyone was both in agreement and in a better mood. They proceeded to scarf down a couple of six-packs of beer, which further lightened the mood, and then they hit the sacks.

  The next day back at the pit, ropes were rigged across the top of the abyss in every which direction. Over fifty anchors were set.

  The mood of the group was much better today thanks to the fact that the communication gear in their helmets was now equipped with noise-canceling headsets. All of this was courtesy of Scott, who had a thing for high tech gadgetry and also the foresight to anticipate the potential need for such equipment. Spider remarked, “Why haven’t we been using these headsets all along? Without the roar of the cascade, this place doesn’t seem near so intimidating.”

  Everyone was in full agreement. Scott remarked, “Well, at first, it didn’t seem like we really needed them. We all did just fine without them, so I sort of forgot about having bought them. But when we got back to the pit yesterday, and we were right there at the drop where the noise was so loud, I remembered them.”

  The top of the pit was thoroughly scouted to determine the best place to rig for the descent. What was meant was for a possible future descent, because obviously, no descent was going to be made on this trip. Special anchors were set to hold the wire reel that would be used to measure the depth of the pit. There appeared no way to avoid, at some point, being inundated in the cascade. The question was, for how long would the exposure be, and what would the dynamic pressure be of the falling water on the ascending/descending climber? And, was this descent even going to be possible?

  Jim and Ted muscled in the heavy wire reel with the depth counter and a digital recording tension meter attached. Scott had sprung for this expensive high tech automated device because no one believed that the use of a less capable manual device could be properly controlled, nor would anything less provide adequate information to plan the assault of such a monumentally difficult descent. The tension meter was a very important device to have in order to ascertain how severe the load from the falling water would be on the climber and how long it would have to be endured.

  Positioning the wire reel was very tedious. It was an awkward balancing act accomplished by standing and walking on a network of fixed ropes while clipped into various safety ropes, all the while also being belayed from twenty or so feet away. Once it was finally emplaced and secure, everyone was anxious to begin probing what lay below. The special five-pound spherical plumb bob probe was affixed to the wire, the five small internal video cameras were activated, and the plumb bob began its slow descent into the cascading torrent. A descent rate of twenty feet per minute was selected to ensure adequate data acquisition. If the pit turned out to be the anticipated twenty-five hundred feet deep, the probe would take right at two hours to reach the bottom. That is assuming no problems were enco
untered. The four circumferential cameras would provide a full 360-degree lateral view, and the fifth camera would provide a continuous downward view. As the probe descended, all eyes were on the depth counter and the digital readout on the tension meter. Initially, the dynamic load from the falling water was brutal and constant, but after a while, it began to lessen and become more variable. One thing was, unfortunately, obvious. The flow maintained its continuous laminar flow for several hundred feet before it began to breakup into very turbulent streams. Dealing with this, the first few hundred feet was going to be an extremely challenging technical task.

  The falling water in the confined space of the pit generated vicious upward and downward winds that buffeted the probe unmercifully and broke the water flow into a gale like maelstrom. At this point, it was apparent that the probe was too light to survive this type of beating for very long. So, the probe was reeled back in.

  Ted checked the onboard specs for the reel and noted that the wire had a working tensile strength of 1000 pounds, so the question was how to attach additional weight to the plumb bob probe to stabilize it through the maelstrom. This was not an anticipated problem, although it should have been.

  Back at camp, a full-court press was initiated to find something that would make a suitable weight. Finally, a nice round river rock was located, which appeared to properly fit the bill. Actually, finding a suitable river rock wasn’t the real problem, but how to attach the rock securely to the plumb bob was an issue. A variety of slings and knots were tried, but none of them passed the “I’m sure this will work” test.

  Then it was Spider’s chance to shine. She said, “I think I know how to do this one. We have a roll of para-cord somewhere, don’t we?” she asked.

  Scott assured her that we had a couple hundred feet somewhere.

  Spider said, “I won’t need near that much. One of my non-climbing hobbies is Macramé. I love knots, and the fancier, the better. I can tie an encapsulating Macramé net around the plumb bob and then another around the rock.” She went on to explain that “The net will keep the plumb bob and the rock securely and symmetrically attached and should allow it to survive the level of buffeting we observed.”