By Patrick O'Diam, NSS #35852
From the November 1999 Flowstone

"Uh, Houston, you just are not going to fit," I said as I surveyed the triangular hole which still held tightly to shreds of my skin that it had tried to devour as I had squeezed my body through.

"I have to. There's no other way out!" came the reply.

It all started some six weeks earlier when e-mails were being sent around the country trying to decide what we would be doing on the weekend of TAG (Tennessee, Alabama, and Georgia), a large caver's convention held where the three states meet. Most of the time, our group of caving friends do not cave during this event but just sit back and socialize with the 1,500 odd cavers (and I do mean odd) who attend. With my busy school schedule at that time, my caving adventures had drastically dwindled. I felt I was long overdue for something to feed my adrenaline addiction. With long time caving friend Houston Hardin flying in from Dallas, Texas and Matt and Jennifer flying in from Vermont, we felt we were due for a vigorous, lengthy, strenuous cave trip. Too great of distances were being traveled not to take advantage of the opportunity to test our physical endurance.

It was finally decided that a multi-drop cave system (a cave with several vertical pits in it) was the type trip we were in the mood for. Better yet, a pull down trip would satisfy our desires. Pull down trips require the group to enter a cave with one or two ropes and rig each drop so that once everyone has reached the bottom, one end of the rope can be pulled and send all the rope falling down to the bottom of the pit. The only concern with this practice is that there is no room for error: you enter the cave at the top of the mountain and proceed until you reach the lower entrance/exit. There are not many caves where this feat can be accomplished, but we did have several choices. After numerous discussions, we decided that Wet Cave near Sewanee, Tennessee would be our cave of choice. No one within our group had ever been through the pull-down section of the cave before. I had visited the lower, horizontal section of the cave during the 1998 National Cave Rescue Commission Seminar and had performed several mock rescues evacuating victims out of the depths of the cave system. We did not have knowledge of the upper cave passage.

Time passed and the date of the planned trip drew closer. About a week before the event took place, Houston e-mailed us all and informed us that he would not be participating on the trip due to the fact he heard there was an eight-inch constriction just past the first drop. Since his body is much thicker than eight inches, he decided he would not ruin the trip for the rest of us. We all were disappointed yet he insisted that we keep our plans and make use of the permits we had obtained to visit the cave. He assured us that he would be able to find another group to join and cave with.

Friday, October 8th, 1999, I rushed from work up to the Chattanooga airport to meet Houston. Matt and Jennifer had flown into Birmingham on Thursday and were picked up by another friend. At the Chattanooga airport, Houston arrived but his luggage didn't. Houston did have his vertical caving gear which he had within his carry on luggage, but was missing several caving essentials, not to mention his tent, clothes, and other important goods. The airport informed us they would deliver his bags to the campsite by midnight. With a feeling of relief that he would soon be reunited with his necessary equipment, off we went. We arrived at the convention, found other long time caving friends, and soon set up camp. As the night progressed, the luggage didn't arrive. Much of the night was spent on the phone trying to locate Houston's items in order that some trip could take place the following day. The next morning, still nothing was known as to the whereabouts of the lost luggage. By this time, I was quite upset and irritated with the airport. Valuable time was being spent waiting while we could be underground.

As the rain started to fall, we began to have second thoughts about going to Wet Cave. Knowing there was the potential of the water rising while we were in there and trapping us as has happened with several other groups in the past, we spoke with several people about the cave to find out all we could about it. It was the general consensus of everyone that the water level was not a concern; however, the eight-inch squeeze could be for Houston. Although he had previously said he would not go with us to Wet Cave, Houston was seeking the encouragement and assurance from someone who was familiar with the cave that he would fit. After hours of phone conversations with airport personnel and still not knowing the location of the lost luggage, Houston got fed up, bought several caving things, and announced that he was going caving. The plan was to swing by the airport on the way to the cave and see if his bags were there. Just as we were packing up ready to depart, other caving friends showed up. Talking to them for a few minutes, they were unable to be persuaded to join us on this adventure despite our efforts. Several voiced their apprehension about the amount of rain that was coming down. One of the older members of the group expressed his concerns about the trip. We chose to ignore his comments and concluded that he was just envious because he knew he would never fit into the cave we were going to visit. Having prepared mentally for this trip for weeks, I could not accept the idea that it may be best to wait until another day. Micah was at the conclusion to go anyway and his fiancé, Jamie, was not going to let him go without her. She was rather new to the caving sport at that time and was somewhat worried about the events that were about to unfold. As the events transpired during the day, it seems we should have listened more closely to the old man's concerns and advice.

Houston asked me to stop at the registration desk as I drove past where we were amazed to find that Houston's bags were there! We quickly rearranged some equipment and after a short stop for lunch, we arrived at the lower entrance of the cave. I had arranged the permit for the trip a few weeks prior to this date with the landowner. He was going to be out of town at this time but still granted permission. We gathered all our belongings, placed a note on the landowner's door, and started the uphill journey. With a gain of approximately 400 vertical feet to the top of the mountain, the cool rain falling on us during the hike was pleasant. Soon, Houston found what appeared to be the entrance and everyone proceeded to put on all there equipment. Knowing how cold-natured Jamie can be within cold, wet caves, I put on two poly-pro shirts and pants under my caveralls and chose to let Jamie wear my new wet suit and break it in for me. She was excited to be on the trip, but that all changed after a few feet in the cave.

Within a mere fifty feet inside the entrance, the first pit of twenty-eight feet was encountered. The pit was rigged quickly and I dropped down into a small room. From that point, the caver must get on their belly in about three inches of water. I went through the crawl first followed by Houston. It was our hopes that I could find any tight spot and inform Houston on the direction to go. The tight constriction was said to be about 100 feet beyond the first drop. As I preceded in search of the constriction, I saw one of the largest crawdads I had ever seen, and my heart started to race with the surprise of the sight. I was afraid to get in the water with that lobster. Having waited on this water creature to go on his merry way, we belly crawled for quite some ways with the ceiling being twelve to eighteen inches overhead. The water ranged from almost nothing to about twelve, but low air space was never encountered. Neither was that seven or eight-inch squeeze. After about 250 feet, I finally made the call to pull down the rope from the first drop. We had chosen not to do this until we were sure Houston was going to fit. As the call was relayed back through the passage by each person, the overwhelming feeling of commitment hit me strong and powerful. Now, there was no turning back. I realized and felt all the concerns that had been voiced earlier that day. It was I who was responsible for pushing on and finding our way out, not knowing if the rain was still continuing to fall outside. It was I who felt responsible for the other members of the group, not knowing if the water was rising within the low passage way. We had to find our way out, and the only way was some mile and a half of unknown passage that lay ahead.

After 600 feet of belly crawling, the second pit was encountered. Houston and I waited for the others, and one by one, Jennifer, Matt, Micah, and Jamie appeared. The cold water was already taking its toll on Micah and Jamie as was evident from their chattering teeth. The pit was rigged and ropes dropped down the sixty-nine foot pit into a beautiful canyon. As we reached the bottom, some scurried away in search of pit number three while the rest of us pulled and coiled rope. After a few little crawls in water and a few squeezes, the third pit of thirty-five feet was found and descended.

Each time we pulled the rope through the rig, sending it crashing down to the floor of the pit we just came down, we would check carefully to ensure that there was no knot in the rope. Any little mistake could prohibit us from making our 1:00 A.M. call-out. If we did not get in touch with our contact who was awaiting our return by that time, a rescue team would have been contacted and sent after us. Having planned for a six-hour trip, we thought we would have plenty of time to make it out before our call-out was up. After all, it was only 2:30 in the afternoon and we thought we might even make it out by dark. We were unaware that our six-hour planned trip was going to end up taking over eleven hours!

Pits number four and five were small and consisted of a fourteen foot and twenty-one foot rappel. Upon reaching the bottom of pit number five, Matt informed us that he could not find a way out of the room. The only thing that seemed to go deeper into the cave was a SMALL, triangular hole in the breakdown. I surveyed the hole and tried to go through only to get stuck temporarily. Matt helped pull me back out, and we continued our search for the way out of the room. After quite a while of looking, it was decided that the small, triangular hole had to be the way. It was uninviting in its appearance of sharp edges coated with mud and scraped from the obvious cavers that preceded us. I advanced in the squeeze head first with Houston behind me to help pull me out if needed. As my hips passed through this time, it was snug all the way around but not too tight not to make it without some groaning and rearranging. Some skin was left behind as the cave bit my side. I continued down the passage and soon found the next pit. I returned to inform Houston of the good, yet bad news: I had found the way, but he would not fit.

"Uh, Houston, you just are not going to fit," I exclaimed as I massaged my skinless sides and hips. The hole was just too small for a 6' 3", 225 pound man. My mind raced, wondering the outcome of the situation. Already visions of rescues were filling my head. I felt I would be able to exit the cave but did not have the energy to return with the extra ropes and climbing equipment needed to assist Houston to exit through the upper cave. It would be hours before anyone would be able to reach him. Would hypothermia set in within that time? This had quickly became a serious problem.

As Houston stared through the hole at me on the other side, I saw a look of determination come to his pale face. "I have to fit. There's no other way out!" came the reply.

Never have I seen someone so determined at accomplishing his goal. He refused to be rescued and suffer the embarrassment of news reporters telling the entire story. Promptly, Houston stripped down to his underwear and entered head first. Parts of his body had to be rearranged, poked, punched, pulled, and packed, but he finally made it through with a few grunts and screams. The rest of the group slid through with little problems.

At this point in the cave, the water was gushing through the canyon and we were getting soaked. Once again my skin was drenched in the icy-cold water causing my legs to go numb. Wondering how much farther it could me, I continued down a few little climbs which led us to pit number six which was about twenty-five feet deep. The water sprayed the rappeller as he descended and total saturation was encountered. About seventy feet from the bottom of this pit, the seventh and "supposedly" final pit was found. The edge of this pit was one of the worst I have ever been over. Water, sharp rocks, undercut ledges and a tight squeeze all did their part in the uglification of the pit as well as the entire cave experience at that point. As I reached the bottom of this pit, I detached myself from the rope and was happy to finally be in the lower cave. My shivering body moved mindlessly away from the pit, yet after taking about ten steps, I found myself looking down what appeared to be a sixty-foot pit. I knew the map said there were only seven drops. We had descended seven drops, yet it appeared there was one more to go. Could this be true, or had hypothermia set in so strongly that I was hallucinating? Houston came down and confirmed the fact that there still was one more pit which ended up being a fifty-nine footer. Micah and I sandwiched Jamie between us to try and conserve body heat. She had been trembling since the first encounter with water some nine hours earlier . At this point, we all were shaking almost uncontrollably.

The last pit was dropped by all and Houston and I decided to bolt out of the cave in order to make our call-out. I had remembered the lower cave as being a large walking passage, but it was not so this time. As we walked along, we quickly got down to our bellies again where the ceiling forced us to. A few wrong turns were costly to our speedy departure. As I popped out of a crawl, I was excited to see walking passage. The water appeared to be about two inches deep so I quickly preceded to cross the room. Unbeknownst to me, the water was two inches deep, but the mud bottom was waist deep! It was very hard to cross the room, but we finally accomplished it. I next followed Houston into a crawl FULL of the slimiest, murkiest, stickiest mud I had ever encountered. We were hands and knees for a while but had to get down on our bellies at one point. After fighting with that for quite some ways, Houston informed me the passage ended, so we turned back and headed out. It was all I could do to force my arms and legs forward. I was exhausted from pulling my pack along and finally fell to my belly. The mud created a suction that prevented me from returning to my hands and knees and after slithering like a snake for a ways, I finally slumped for want of air. The mud quickly engulfed me and I fought to keep my nostrils out of the mud while the mud seeped up to my mouth. Finally, I regained my breath and we continued. It was a race against the clock. We trudged on, not really knowing how much time we had. I was unable to view my watch was now because of the generous coating of mud.

As we exited the cave, a feeling of freedom and accomplishment engulfed. I ran for the truck in hopes of calling off the rescue before our time expired and Houston returned to the cave to help the others find their way out. At 12:37, I phoned our contact person. The ringing phone was promptly answered with the greeting: "Cutting it a little close, aren't you?" The rest of our crew arrived at the trucks about 1:00 a.m. After changing, we headed out in search of food. We arrived at the campsite at about 4:00 a.m. and mud bogged our way to the tent. I slept well for a few hours. Sunday morning, we sorted gear and parted ways. I slid through the field toward the gate reminiscing on the good time we had, and being thankful for such good friends with whom I share the TAG adventures. The weekend was a splendid change from the ordinary and challenged us all to the point that we desired. I reflected on the misery we had suffered yet felt great pride and accomplishment. It is often the most challenging adventures that fosters the fondest memories.

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