A long, full-on day. I happily snapped photos of the sunrise-lit morning frost as I drove along. Being in no hurry, I decided to drive via back roads to Geraldine since I may never be through that way again. I stopped for a brisk walk around the karstic wonderland of Castle Hill where limestone has eroded into towers and sculptures set against snowy peaks of the Southern Alps.
Two suggestions for an adrenaline rush in a tourist cave: go alone when you've never been in the cave before, and, go when the cave is in a moderate flood. Whereas the deepest place was supposed to be just below the waist, I fought my way up the swollen Cave Stream in shoulder depth in several places. I got pushed back several times and after a while became intimidated by the raging torrent and would try to climb above. I wore little clothes (despite having a wetsuit in the car) and just kept constantly moving. Between the intimidation of the water and the cold, my body had to rely on adrenaline to keep me functioning. The cave went on forever and I was constantly questioning what a good idea this was and whether I was half way through yet and whether some yet upcoming obstacle would force me to turn back. In two places I had to chimney high where the force in the stream was so great I would never have made it up. In some cases I had to lunge for key handholds before the stream could sweep me down. The last pool before the exit seemed to be the worst yet (with the steel ladder and entrance light visible!), but on closer inspection it was manageable. I was very happy to be out in the sun and I had a good laugh at my own expense. It was one of the few caving trips that I really wanted to end while I was in the cave. It was a long hour!
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| Castle Hill |
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