Back in October I led a two-day trip through Nettlebed Cave; down Blizzard Pot, "overnighting" at Salvation Hall, then heading out the Nettlebed entrance 890m below the Blizzard Pot entrance. On the second day, at some point between Ancient Briton and Rockfall K, I managed to lose my waterproof camera. Carefully reconstructing my memories of where my pack was open led me to determine the bottom of the Overlander to be the most likely place to find it. Here I dropped my pack into the small streamlet at the base of the pitch and it was picked up by someone else in the party. Perhaps the camera could have fallen out here. As we were pressed to get out of the cave before our callout time and join the first night of the NZSS AGM, steps were not retraced and we headed out. This camera had some important photos on it pertaining to my PhD research as well as some other photos I would rather not lose (not to mention the camera!).
Luckily two separate groups were planning Nettlebed trips in the next two weeks so I gave a detailed description of the camera and where it could have been lost. Rewards were offered. Unfortunately both trips were canceled and my camera sat, hopefully, safely and quietly in the depths.
Months passed by. Months during which some photos of hard to reach rock outcrops were sorely missed. Nettlebed remained unvisited; a camera sat. It is a horrible thing to know where something is but to realize there are formidable obstacles between it and you (like a ten hour drive, a steep bush tramp, and several hours of caving).
January arrives and I find myself on the Ellis Basin expedition, all too aware of my proximity to my camera. I hiked out over the tops to Flora Saddle. So close! The next time I could be up this way could be a long time off. I set a callout time and got an early start the next morning.
Call to action! Rescue initiated! Scattered showers all night ensured a long hike through wet bush. I was drenched before long. Going downhill I found that I had veered off the markers on the ridge which amounted to an extra hour traversing obstacled bush to get back on track. After some time, I arrived at the Nettlebed entrance where an ominous fog emanated from the darkness. Luckily my in-cave navigation was far more effective and I had no trouble finding my way in other than some modest navigational wonderment initially finding the Prickly Tube. I passed through the slight constriction beneath the Overlander and intently searched my way up the stream. There, on a rock in the middle of the stream in its black neoprene case, I found my camera resting quite happily. I was thrilled to not have to return empty-handed (or to put on SRT gear and go further into the cave).
I made it back to the entrance in 45 minutes. The water level in the Pools and Ducks were very low and the dry gum boots were much appreciated. The Hinkle Horn Honking Holes were raging unlike I have experienced before. My small pack size made the squeezes quite easy to pass. I acted the part of a wet sponge on the slog back up the hill as lightning and thunder and torrential rain were apparently localized directly overhead. I have never before seen waterfalls dripping off individual trees before!
What was seen as a chore actually turned out to be quite enjoyable in the end. Somewhat amazingly, after charging the battery and allowing the camera to defog, the camera still works like new!
As the camera battery was thoroughly dead after sitting in a cold stream for three months, no pictures were taken. I realized it was kind of hard to take a photo of being joyously reunited with a camera anyway. Shown here are some recovered Nettlebed photos from the October trip.
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| Crystal Pool |
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| The Salvation Hall couch |
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