Another Round of Golf, of Course

During the first few months of 2017 I completed an average of one surveying trip a month to a cave named 'Golf Course' with Lindsay and co.. I think I’ve missed out on about every second trip. Go Lindsay I say. So, for a cave of 2 odd km you could be forgiven for assuming that it was nigh on done and dusted. Well I would have, but then I’m new to the speleological game. Incidentally, Golf Course was also the first cave I ever went to, that being only a year or so earlier.

Michael B. had come to live on the fun side of the island for a while - sensible lad. So I thought it best to circulate a rumour that going out and doing something while he was in close proximity would be a blast. Warren S also got swirled into the vortex of phone calls and emails – me thinking that a trip to the Xanadu labyrinth/cave would almost certainly settle to the top as the crème de la crème of options - it being Warren's favourite, go-to underground experience. And a cave that I had yet to get to see.

But no, Golf Course gets the nod.  Apparently some other-worldly slim English caver has squeezed to the back of beyond in one of Golf Course’s already far-too-narrow rifts and spied a snippet of daylight. Michael fervently believes this scrap of daylight deserves to found from above. Although he also freely admits that it’s unlikely any of us will actually fit down it or through the passage that extends from its bottom.

Warren, Mira and Michael

 Nothing much to write about there you might think. True, so let’s throw in an awkward time constraint or two to spice it up a trifle. Firstly Michael and Warren will need to leave unconscionably early at their end in order to be up at our end by a reasonable hour. Good chaps. That rules out Neil S., who was going to be joining us – getting up at 7:00am on a week-day morning for goodness sake?! My contribution is that I have to leave early, and be back in Westport by 3:30pm. A nice relaxing day recreating in the manner of our choosing as you can see. 

My day starts with being held up at work for an extra hour, thus negating the need to have breakfast – yeah right. From now on I need to keep accurate time records at each major junction in the day so as to be able to run it all backwards later on. Arriving at Limestone Rd about 30 seconds before the team sets off, I now have 4 ½ hours to squish in what I can before I’m due back at the same spot. 

By the time we reach the end of the track leading to Golf Course, Warren has drawn the conclusion that lambing is just not keeping his fitness up to the desired level. A gear re-shuffle results in the 50m rope tele-porting spontaneously from Warren’s pack and into mine. Fair enough, it is after all supposed to be a team effort. 

Lending a hand at the Pedestal Pool

One thing I’ve noticed about cave surveying is that it does have a tendency to slow you down on the through progress, so we should be faster than usual today. Although Michael’s attempt to assign golf-themed names to each new twist and turn of the journey did make a valiant effort at padding out the journey. And we did keep most of the team together, most often. Although one individual did try escape the awkward bridging of the stream-way prematurely by disappearing along a side passage and had to be retrieved.

Mira and Michael appear topside

 So how long does it take to get through Golf Course in one foul swoop you want to know, precisely one hour. Nifty. I now have exactly one hour available to be topside until I will have to curtail my frolicking about and repeat the process in reverse. For me that means one thing and one thing only. Lunch time. Other people must have different metabolisms to me and I had been warned that certain members of team had earned the reputation of being Duracell Bunnies. Sure enough, while I collapsed none-to-gracefully in a soggy, incoherent heap among the fernery, others surfaced from the cave skipping the light fandango only to immediately set off in search of the inlet of inky blackness that was the object of their desire.  It took me half an hour to regain my composure, and finish my meagre repast - a flask full of piping hot freshly home-made vegetable soup populated with a thousand delicious spicy meatballs. It wasn’t necessarily easy but there are times when someone has to step up.

Warren emerges having cleared the cave of stragglers

As I was gently dabbing the corners of my mouth with a steaming lemon-scented napkin, Warren began to holler at me that they’d found something of interest and would I 'please stop lazing about on top of the 50m rope as if it were some comfortable bush chaise lounge, as we need it' and get it round to where they were.

Now my time constraints start to bite, I don’t actually have enough time to trek all the long way round the way to where they are. Fortunately however they’ve circumscribed a near perfect circle are now not far from where I am. With one small problem, a sheer moss-covered cliff in between us. Maybe they could simply hoist the rope up to where they are and save me a trek though the bush that I just don’t have time for. I suggest this option to Warren, asking if he has his 8m handline on his person, informing him that the cliff-face is surely not more than 8m high. A general consensus was reached that this seemed a most workable and equitable idea. Warren immediately set about lowering his golden handline to the distressed swashbuckler below, like so many a medieval Miss before him.

‘Keep on letting it down there, good herds-person,’ I called, in deep manly tones.

‘No can do, that’s it,’ replied Warren, the high-lofted one, ‘is it close?’

‘Close is it indeed,' I cried lustily, 'in no time at all you would have reached the mark of half way.’

‘Hold fast for one shake of a lamb's rear-facing appendage, we’ve got slings of a marvellous woven quality!’ I was reassured, as the rope trended upward in a jiggly manner and slitheringly returned shortly afterwards.

‘Nay, although doubtless a valiant effort, it remains despairingly short of the bullseye. I can nearly reach the end though.’ I chirruped encouragingly.

‘One last chance is all we have before us then. Mira is bravely and kindly going to lend us some support,’ Warren chortled back, ‘she is just undressing a little.’

Thank goodness she’s out of sight at the top of this cliff I pondered. A six foot two Amazonian goddesses ought know better. Sure enough not more than a minute or two later the golden handline bounced to within my firm grasp and I was able to attach the 50m rope. Using a fancy bowline no less, proving yet again that occasionally you can teach old dogs new tricks.

Sadly my portion of the tale ends here as I now was obliged to high-tail it back through the cave and back into Westport for work. Maybe one of the other team members will furnish you with the details of their exciting discoveries…

P.S. The return trip through the cave took 46 minutes and, no, I didn’t go for a swim in the Pedestal Pool this time, but, yes, I did somehow manage to fill both my gumboots with water getting across it.

         

Addendum

Hi all

Attached is the screenshot from my phones GPS of the route Warren, Mira and myself took yesterday looking for the new tomo entrance to Golf Course. The map's contours do not do the country justice. Not a single step was made easily! Cave entrance marked "was 13.11" was Warren's and Mira's find that went down 50m but needed another handline to get down 3m, was wet but had possible passage at the bottom of the 3m going around a corner. "mbs 14.31" went down 10 m and died very quickly after that. 12.41 - didn’t get back to. Big tomo was really a 40m abseil that Warren did into a canyon with a flat open gravely floor which went in both directions but with no obvious cave activity. And there were many more !! Points 12.23 and 11.57 were where I estimated the tomo entrance should have been.
Michael B