Beyond Mammoth Cave

by Beyond Mammoth Cave- A Tale of Obsession in the World's Longest Cave (epub)

  Roger scowled at their laughter, then replaced the skewers, carefully wrapping his spare shirt around the wires so they did not poke through the sides of the pack.

  At last, they were ready, the car loaded with gear and people. As Richard Zopf’s party began eight-mile drive to Joppa Ridge, Don Coons stood in the front yard watching them disappear over the hill, leaving a plume of dust behind. Would they find the connection to Morrison Cave?

  At this point, Don decided that if there was any chance of putting a lid on the explosive work that had begun on Pete’s expedition, he had better let Pete know a little about the goings-on in Morrison Cave.

  Don and Sheri found Pete typing a memo for the park superintendent in the expedition leader’s office.

  Quietly, they told Pete enough about Morrison Cave to make it clear that a connection could be imminent. Since no survey had been completed in Logsdon River, there was no way to be sure. Don’s only request was that he and Sheri be allowed to make the connection attempt; Pete could select the rest of the party. Pete immediately suggested Art and Peg Palmer, who were to arrive on Monday, 2 July. The quiet deal made, Don and Sheri headed back to their cabin to get some sleep.

  But the CRF assault had begun.

  Roger Brucker, Scooter Hildebolt, Lynn Weller, and Richard Zopf slithered through the Proctor Crawl in a long four hours, twice the usual time. The heavy packs tied to their ankles were like boat anchors. Despite the effort, their spirits were high, buoyed by the anticipation of discovery.

  Several more hours of fumbling around—descending ropes, moving equipment, putting on wetsuits, inflating the inner tubes—brought them to the pile of rocks marking the end of the survey line in Proctor Cave. They pulled out their brand-new Brunton compass and a one-hundred-foot tape and began the survey, paddling on inner tubes up the underground river. Roger had brought a Mylar notebook in which to record the numbers and make sketches of the survey in the wet passage.

  The trip exceeded everyone’s expectations. A thousand feet from the beginning of their survey, a major side passage bringing in half the flow of Hawkins River issued from a low arch twenty-four feet wide. Floating in inner tubes, the party explored fifteen hundred feet of this nearly flooded passage.

  After this, back in the main passage, they continued the survey for another fourteen hundred feet to the boulders of a giant breakdown complex blocking the big cross section of trunk passage. Holes led off everywhere, but there was no main route. However, this was not surface breakdown—the limestone rocks were massive and clean. Surely, a way on would be found. But it was late, and the party packed away the survey gear. They walked and floated downstream to the ropes and the climbs back into the upper levels of Proctor Cave. At the top of the first rope, the foursome stashed their wetsuits and inner tubes for use by other explorers later in the week.

  The following day, Sunday, Pete Lindsley led the second assault on the river. Pete was fascinated with the potential of the large river tributary Brucker’s party had discovered leading to the south, so he signed out for that objective. Don Coons and Sheri Engler, who were lingering around camp to see what was happening, were relieved to learn that Pete did not plan to return to the breakdown pile—by their estimation, the best chance for the connection to Morrison Cave. But Pete did not know that; Don and Sheri had disclosed as little as possible. Why would anyone with such a large lead beckoning to the south go anywhere else?

  The connection was still safe!

  After Pete and his team of Bob Buecher, Jim Goodbar, and Ron Bridgemon made the long, hot trip through the crawlway, descended the ropes, and floated past the deep water section, they paused to rest at the beginning of the Right Hand Fork. So far, they had made great time and deserved a break.

  A gasp from Pete shattered the silence.

  “Shit! Where’s the damn Mylar?” He dug through his pack, looking for the Mylar notebook that they would need to record survey data in the wet passage. Mylar plastic, which had a rough surface, was about the only material that would stand up to all the water—ordinary notepaper would disintegrate. In desperation, Pete dumped the entire contents of his pack on the sandbank where they were sitting.

  “I know I put it in there. Where is it?”

  After a few more minutes of fruitless searching, he finally gave up.

  “Well, damn,” said Pete in final resignation. “We can’t very well survey this thing.” He gestured towards the low, ominous watery arch of the Right Hand Fork. “We’ll have to find something else to do.”

  After considering the situation briefly, he had a solution. “Zopf said that there were plenty of leads in the breakdown where they quit and that there should be a way through. Let’s go there and survey what we can. See if we can get through the collapse.”

  After Pete returned all his equipment into his emptied pack, they turned to the east, to the end of the Zopf party’s survey, and began their work. Pete always carried a spare paper notebook in his pack.

  The breakdown was more extensive than they had guessed from Richard Zopf’s description. Holes went everywhere! There was no way to be sure of the best way to go. All day, they painstakingly surveyed through what looked to be the best route, never finding the end of the extensive breakdown zone.

  Near the end of their allotted time, Pete checked a low crawlway. After a few feet, he emerged into yet another breakdown room. Totally disoriented, he had no idea if he had been heading farther into the cave or back towards Proctor Cave. As he sat down to cool off, he spotted fresh footprints on the floor leading from a hole on the opposite side of the room where he was sitting.

  Puzzled, he studied the footprints closely. “Hmm,” he said to himself, “I wonder whose footprints those are?” He contemplated following them. Maybe their owner took an easier route than the one he had followed getting here. He shrugged and turned back the way he had come. It was too late in the day to press onward.

  After returning, Ron Bridgemon asked Pete, “You’ve been gone awhile. You find anything?”

  “No, but I found some footprints in an odd place.” He frowned. “I can’t figure out how they got there.”

  Ron replied, “That’s strange; I saw footprints too. I was in virgin cave, then there they were. They must have come from out of the breakdown somewhere.”

  “They must somehow be from Zopf’s party from yesterday. They said they had poked around a lot.” Pete looked thoughtful, then continued, “This area is so confusing, how can you even tell which way to go?”

  Frustrated at their lack of any big success in getting through the collapse zone, the party packed up and started out. There had been solid accomplishment but no thrilling breakthrough.

  On Monday morning, there was no sign of Pete Lindsley’s party, but then they were not due back for several more hours. Don Coons was curious about what they had found, but he and Sheri and Art and Peg Palmer were heading to a different objective. As the foursome reached the Proctor Cave Entrance after the mile walk through the woods on Joppa Ridge, they found Pete’s party emerging from the cave entrance to begin their hot walk back to the car.

  Don smiled. “How was your trip? Find much?”

  Pete looked exhausted. “We didn’t make it to the wet lead—forgot the Mylar notebook.”

  “So where did you go?”

  “Where else? We ended up pushing the breakdown pile that Zopf found.”

  Don’s heart sank. Did they make the connection? He bit his lower lip and asked as calmly as he could, “Find anything?”

  “Surveyed about twelve hundred feet. More breakdown, but it still goes, and it’s really complicated.”

  “Sorry about the notebook. I think we’re going to continue your survey into the breakdown. It’s gotta go somewhere,” Don mused.

  Pete’s party had started up the hill. “Good luck,” Pete shouted back. Then they were gone.

  The connection was still to be made!

  Later, as they were walking through the woods, Pete recalled the mysterio
us footprints, a little detail he had forgotten to tell Don. He shrugged his shoulders. It probably was not important.

  Proctor Cave blew a lot of air in the summer months. The four cavers cooled off in the breeze as they fired up their lamps and cinched their packs.

  Clang! The ancient entrance gate slammed shut behind them. This was the trip. Don and Sheri smiled in anticipation of what the day might bring.

  Many hours later, the elation of their anticipated connection had crumbled away under the weight of the breakdown pile. Throughout the day, they had surveyed about fifteen hundred feet but, like Pete’s party, had failed to find the other end of the breakdown. No connection was apparent. Although the unsurveyed leads seemed abundant, none seemed promising. The day was winding down. They had run their survey into a low side passage that looked like it would be just another of many cutarounds. After a few feet, several small holes led off.

  The party split to check for leads. Art Palmer entered a virgin passage that grew smaller. After squeezing past some rocks, he saw a footprint, then another. Then he spotted a large turd! Art puzzled over its origin. Could it have been left by one of the other three in his party? Or by another party? Art’s cave sense told him that he had penetrated far into the breakdown and this should be virgin cave. Maybe Pete’s party had explored farther than he thought, reaching this spot from some other route. No explanation was apparent, and to ask the others if anyone had taken a crap would be in bad taste, so he resolved to keep silent when he returned.

  Don, meanwhile, was crawling in another small passage, trying to follow the elusive breeze. Shortly, he joined another, larger passage that led farther into the breakdown. On the mud floor, he found footprints leading left and right. Footprints! His mind numbed with disorientation. Where did they come from? The set of prints to the right finally ended at an obscure hole that Don followed back to surveyed cave. To the left, the passage was clogged with rocks, the muddy footprints leading upward. Don began to squeeze upward into the rocks. An idea struck. Up! Maybe this was the answer. Their explorations in Morrison Cave several days ago had ended in a high-level room that seemed to be above the breakdown; maybe he should try to go up rather than through the pile.

  Renewed by this possibility, he squeezed up between piano-sized boulders and shortly popped into a small chamber. At the far end, a low crawl between boulders led off. Don was still following the trail of footprints. Ahead, he could hear water falling. Connection?

  Don raced through the low crawl and emerged high along the wall of a large breakdown room. As his eyes adjusted to the blackness, a wave of elation overcame him. This was the breakdown room containing the waterfall that just a week earlier he had seen in Morrison Cave!

  Ten minutes later, Don was looking over Art’s shoulder as he sketched in the survey book.

  “Find anything?” Don was as deadpan as he could be.

  Art looked up. “No. How ‘bout you? Any luck?”

  “Just a minute. I’ve got to talk to Sheri.” Don huddled and whispered to Sheri. They both broke out in laughter. Sheri jumped up and down.

  The pair immediately shared the news that they had found the route to Morrison Cave! The Palmers joined in their revelry, although the importance of the breakthrough was not immediately apparent.

  “Good show, you guys!” Peg Palmer exulted, pumping their hands.

  “What should we do with the survey?” Art asked.

  Don and Sheri exchanged glances, then Don said, “Let’s just end it. Come on! We’ll give you a little tour.” The Palmers didn’t know what to expect.

  Don and Sheri showed off the sights of the route back toward Morrison Cave in the best running, rinky-dink manner: the Sentinel, the hole where the thundering water of Logsdon River disappeared, the crawl leading to Thrill Shaft, and the wonderful rapids and grand passage that led to points unknown to the east.

  Back at the breakdown after this blazing, whirlwind tour, they discussed the significance of the connection.

  Prior to this, passages had led beyond the park boundaries, but this information was closely guarded, even within the CRF. Now, here was a passage from a major park cave that not only blasted way beyond the boundary but was also accessible from an entrance outside the park. Although the link couldn’t be kept secret, it was important to release the news carefully. Next to the sketch of the breakdown, Art replaced the enthusiastic “GOES!” with “NO GO.” All agreed to keep quiet about the link until Don and Sheri could talk privately with Pete Lindsley.

  Questions raced through their minds as they made the long slog out of Proctor Cave. How would the National Park Service handle an entrance off the park? Should the news of it be made public at all? It would be up to Pete Lindsley to control the situation.

  After emerging from the cave, Don and Sheri approached Pete Lindsley, who was eating a breakfast prepared by Richard Zopf. The pair described the connection and the details of discoveries in Morrison Cave.

  “Aha!” shouted Pete, slamming his fist on the table. “I knew something was strange. On my trip the other day, I found footprints. Couldn’t figure out where they came from. They were yours. Damn! My trip made the connection and we didn’t even know it!”

  “Pete, they could’ve been anyone’s,” pooh-poohed Don.

  Art never mentioned the turd.

  “Maybe,” Pete admitted, waving Don off. “But tell me more about Morrison Cave!”

  Pete was highly enthusiastic as he listened to their tale. Don described the numerous opportunities for a connection to Mammoth Cave.

  By Don’s reckoning, parts of Logsdon River could be less than a thousand feet from where he supposed the limits of John Wilcox’s closely guarded surveys in Cocklebur Avenue lay in Mammoth Cave. He ended by saying that efforts in this area would be more practically served through the Morrison Cave Entrance rather than through the long, arduous route in Proctor Cave.

  “Besides,” Don added, “what would the park say if they knew the CRF was pushing cave outside the park from Proctor Cave? Politically, I think it would be better for all parties concerned if we worked the river from the Morrison Entrance.”

  Pete agreed. “Let’s do it! Don, I want you to take a party tomorrow. Go to Morrison Cave. Survey towards Mammoth Cave. I’ll call Wilcox.”

  Don’s smile disappeared. He was deeply disturbed, as well as exhausted from lack of sleep.

  Pete had missed the point about keeping things quiet. “No . . . I don’t think so.” He paused. “Not right now, anyway. In fact, I think we need to keep everything quiet until we figure out what the next step is. At that point, we can talk.”

  The sketch in the survey book showed a terminal breakdown where the connection was, and Don wrote a trip report declaring there was no reason for anyone to go back: “All the leads end!”

  Pete Lindsley brooded. His grand plan for surveying miles of river had been threatened by Don Coons and Morrison Cave. Pete considered his options: he could defer to Don, but that would effectively shut down operations in the river for the remainder of the week; or he could ignore Don and continue the surveys in the river to the east via the newly discovered connection with Morrison Cave. Pete had high hopes for this expedition. Over the years, he had grown weary of setting up big discoveries during his expeditions only to have all the goodies gobbled up by others before he could return to Kentucky.

  Once, on the last trip of an earlier expedition he had run, he peered through a breakdown in the back of New Discovery in Mammoth Cave. The air was rushing through and open blackness lay ahead—a big discovery loomed. As he began to crawl through the hole, trip leader John Wilcox stopped him: “Loose rocks . . . it may be too dangerous.” Reluctantly, Pete had backed out.

  Wilcox found another hole and squeezed in while the others waited. He found a walking lead that he followed to a room so vast that his flashlight beam would not touch the walls or ceiling.

  Their party surveyed the first gooey part but quit at a pit. As they were packing to leave, Pe
te understood Wilcox to say he didn’t know how big the room was. The party left the cave and Pete headed back to Texas.

  The next month, the ambiguous size miraculously became clear and Wilcox’s party easily moved past the pit to discover the largest passage cross section in Mammoth Cave! They explored and surveyed several thousand feet of it. Pete had felt cheated. Now, for once, the big discovery had at last been made before his expedition. He had at his command the strong cavers and resources, and he was finally free to show everyone how big caving could be done for an entire week.

  In what seemed a continuation of his bad luck, the most recent turn of events was now too good and his plan to survey miles of cave was at risk.

  Pete was certain of one thing: he should proceed with the exploration. Don had seemed unyielding in his determination to keep the river in Morrison Cave to himself. After all, Don had turned down Pete’s offer of the CRF’s help and did not want anyone to continue exploring through the connection unless he was involved. Pete made phone calls for counsel.

  First, he called Roger Brucker. As chief instigator of the plan to push the river, Roger could certainly make an informed recommendation. Roger, expectedly, gave his support to Pete. “Go for it now. I would.” The sensitivities of a couple of secret cavers was no reason to stop exploration, Roger declared. Pete then called John Wilcox and quizzed him about the lead in Cocklebur Avenue in Mammoth Cave. The two of them decided that the lead probably did not connect to Logsdon River—Cocklebur was at a higher level than any base-level river. Was Wilcox available to join the expedition to help connect Morrison-Proctor Cave with Mammoth Cave? No, Wilcox had other plans.

  Dauntlessly now, Pete decided to press ahead in the river with the full resources of a mighty expedition. Don and Sheri would be pissed, but they had had their chance.

  On 4 July, Pete Lindsley assembled a strong party led by Richard Zopf to survey through the Morrison-Proctor Cave connection. Pete ordered Richard to extend the survey line east as far as they could possibly could. They had to know where this river went! Richard, always a team player, was going to follow these instructions to the letter—the line was the most important, the complex sketching would come later. In what was forever to be labeled the “Wall-less Sketch Trip,” Richard Zopf, Tom Brucker, Lynn Weller, and Walter Mayne surveyed over a mile of cave.