ENTRANCE OF SWILDON'S HOLE.
Photo by M. Martel.
WATERFALL, SWILDON'S HOLE.
Photo by H. E. Balch.
The water poured down a staircase of similar basins, where to keep clear of the stream was impossible. So far we had kept tolerably dry, but as we clung to this watery ladder I pricked up my ears at the remark, "Will you have your back or your stomach in it?" Crouching on all fours, with back pressed against the low roof, and looking between my legs, I watched the performances of my comrades, as each in turn went through the final archway. Not one escaped a severe wetting. But I was going to be more wily—at least, I thought so. With hands and knees in the rushing stream, I squirmed hastily but cautiously through. I seemed to be getting on famously, and gave a spurt. That moment the rocks ended; they were undercut. I found myself sliding down a waterfall 10 feet high, and floundering in a big pool at the bottom. Drenched we were; but what better preparation could we have for the troubles ahead? This part of the cavern shows traces of enormous changes in the course of the stream, which has planed down great masses of stalagmite, the growth of ages, when this section of the tunnels was dry or all but deserted by the streams, which found a way down by the horizontal canal or some higher channel. Between this first water-chute and the second lies the most nerve-trying part of the journey to the farthest point hitherto attained. It is a succession of lofty rifts, giving into each other at right angles, the water sweeping from one to the next through curving fissures and sudden falls. For a while we kept above the canyons on a water-worn shelf, all that remained of a low, flattish chamber that sufficed for the small streams of older times. This giving out, we scrambled along the cliffs of the canyons, which seemed in the gloom without top or bottom, bestraddling the rift, or with feet on one side and back to the other pushing on from hold to hold. The Limestone grips would have been amply sufficient for this mode of progression had they not been drenched and slippery. Below us the waters raced and bellowed. At the junctions of the canyons they sounded on all sides at once; the invisible hollows all round seemed to be alive with angry voices, mad to be at us. What if a thunderstorm burst over Mendip now? Such thoughts would occur, although we knew we could climb into safety on the upper shelves of the canyon; for with a water-chute above and another below, a little flood would make us fast prisoners.
At the Well, the stream tumbles suddenly into a deep round pit, in which it is churned to foam before being driven out with accelerated speed along a rugged gorge to the second staircase of potholes. Shreds of magnesium ribbon dropped into the Well lit up such a turmoil of waters as one might see in some gigantic turbine going at full speed. Two of us now went ahead to report on the condition of the next stage. The gorge was too wide for climbing, but we found a footing on the rocks in the bed, then squirmed through a narrow fissure, and began to descend the potholes. These were deep basins, with high walls on the upper side where the stream poured in, and the other side broken down by the force of the torrent. Below them lay the second water-chute, a big fall pitching into a hole underneath a low arch, and sliding out into a turbulent pool. It was a sort of culvert, with very little head-room above the water. Had we not come through so many tribulations already, and had we not known of the glories that awaited us in the great stalactite chamber beyond this last trial, we should certainly have been turned back by this obstacle. After some little hesitation we resolved to attempt it, and went back to the head of the Well for our companions. One of the cameras had already been left behind; it was decided to leave the other here. The leader went down the water-chute on his back; the rest adopted all the other attitudes possible short of a complete header. But it made little difference; all got a most effectual drenching.
Running the gauntlet beneath another tributary, which came swishing in just over our heads, we pushed on into a high and ample chamber, where in times gone by a volume of water had accumulated in a sort of gigantic cistern. The rocky roof was flat and smooth, its cracks and fissures fringed with meandering lacework of stalactite. In front, the rocky mole that once held up the reservoir was cloven into a series of Limestone seracs, between which the stream found its way down into the remoter cavities. Masses of clay, some 15 feet thick, deposited by the ancient waters, still flanked this rugged portal into the unknown. Bones of sheep, cattle, horses, and lesser mammals lay about in profusion, enough to reconstruct whole skeletons; with them were the relics of animals now extinct on Mendip, deer and other creatures. Higher up sherds of Samian pottery had been found, brought down by the stream from the rubbish heaps of long ago. What struck the imagination as still more wonderful was that in this sunless spot, 300 feet below the surface, there were creatures that lived. Empty snail shells were abundant, but yet more plentiful were tiny snails that were actually crawling over the clay, feeding, no doubt, on water-borne vegetable matter. Gossamer-like webs stretched across many chinks in the Limestone, but the microscopic spiders we could not see. What flies did they live on? Surely not the caddis, whose corpses lay about in plenty on every shoal.
From this chamber the stream quickly descends into the great Water Rift, one of the most wonderful things in the whole cavern. It is but a few feet wide, but its height is enormous. The walls go up like mountain cliffs, but are lost in gloom instead of mist. Here tremendous changes had taken place since the former exploration. At that time the rift was blocked up in one place by a vast barrage of rock and stalagmite, that came down to the stream and forbade human progress save by one strait and difficult way. At a height above the water a hole ascended seven feet into the barrier, its orifice all but closed by a fringe of stalactites. Contriving to enter, the explorers crept up this pipe, and down a corresponding one on the other side, coming out on a cliff face overhanging the continuation of the Water Rift, to attain the bottom of which was an abstruse gymnastic problem. A little farther on they reached the utmost limit of their journey, where the stream beats violently against the termination of the rift, is hurled sideways, and finds an outlet through a low crevice, whence it tumbles in a 40-foot cataract into an unknown pool. Our main object to-day had been to descend this 40-foot pitch; that was the reason why we had encumbered ourselves with two long ropes. But now all was different. In the short interval that had elapsed since the former visit, the strength of the ungovernable torrent had swept away the whole of this vast structure, the work of thousands of ages—for the Pyramids are recent erections compared with these products of unimaginably slow crystallisation. Hardly a vestige remained; and now the current dashed unimpeded from end to end of the Water Rift, and the incessant thunder of the cataract deafened ears already attuned to the noise of the higher falls and canyons. Probably the removal of stones and dams by the former party, in making their way down, had contributed largely to this extraordinary event.
Nothing could be done in the face of such a volume of water. We turned, accordingly, out of the main passage into a lofty gallery or transept that branches off to the west, the general direction of the cavern being due south. To say it branches off is slightly incorrect, for it is really the course of a tributary brook, and quite possibly may have been in remote times the channel of the main stream. At all events its shape and magnitude indicate that it was once a very important section of the cavern. Scrambling cautiously along the sides of the toppling fragments of the mole, we crossed a deep gap and entered the gallery. At the portal a great hollow corbel of stalactite stood out from the wall, like an enormous stoup, its huge rims curved over like the petals of a flower. It stood there in solitary grandeur, but it was a token of transcendent glories beyond. A few more steps, and we saw that we were on the threshold of a fane more beautiful than any made with hands. The rocks to right and left were sheeted with crystalline enamel, its surface powdered thickly with a minute splash deposit, so frail that it gave one a twinge to crush the lovely efflorescence as we moved. One could not go a step without destroying hundreds of these delicate spicules, the work of untold ages of water action. More great corbels stood out from the walls as we advanced; they were richly moulded with concentric rings of stalagmite, and these again were carved and chased with wonderful reliefs. From the corbels sprang huge pillars right to the roof, pillars 40 feet in height; and from their capitals shining curtains hung down in ample folds, heavy as Parian marble, and as lovely in hue. One would have called them white, had we not seen, hanging from a cleft high up in the lofty walls, a mass of curtains as white as arragonite, the whitest thing there is. So dazzling was their immaculate purity that the rich creamy surface of the other incrustations showed dusky in comparison. We were veteran cave explorers, yet it seemed to us that all the caves we had ever seen in Britain could no more vie with this than parish churches with cathedrals. At each turn there was a new and more enthralling vista: more pillars, ampler curtains, piers and arches of Oriental magnificence, fluted and moulded into wildest fantasies. It struck one with a curious wonder to think that all these splendours had lain here unbeheld by living eye, untouched by a gleam of light, until one casual year in the twentieth century.
But the photographer was exercised by other feelings. He was here, but where was his camera? It had seemed a Herculean labour to bring that much-enduring instrument down to the 300-foot level, but he declared that the task was not superhuman, and, furthermore, he was determined to do it. He could not do it alone, however; that was obvious. The expedition, therefore, came down out of the stalactite gallery. Two went through the water-chute, two remained just outside it, to assist in the last and most dangerous stage of the transportation. We waited a long time; in fact, we had leisure enough to explore an interesting side gallery whilst the others made their way to and from the head of the Well. At last their welcome shout was heard. Standing in the water, with light held low under the arch, we caught sight of a hand, and then of a wading and much-crumpled-up man, lugging the camera, which he kept out of the foaming water with admirable skill. We grabbed it, and put the precious instrument in a place of safety; ten minutes later the flashlight was at work, taking our breath away with its gorgeous revelations. The photographer had his troubles even here, though not such as to be compared with those of the water caverns we had recently traversed, where at this moment two of our party, following us down, were engaged in photographing the canyons and the falls, under difficulties that few cameras have ever been confronted with. Here there was no marble pavement suitable to the splendours of the walls; nothing for the camera to stand on but an inch or two of slippery ledge, with a depth of mud in the middle that none of us cared to fathom. The only place that could be found at one spot for the flashlight was the top of my unfortunate head, which I generously put at the photographer's disposal. On it was laid a piece of stone, on which the gun-cotton was spread and sprinkled with the powder, which, when it went off, made me shut both eyes for fear of the shower of sparks, and so I missed the glorious blaze of light that illumined the cavern.
ENTRANCE OF STALACTITE CHAMBER, SWILDON'S HOLE.
Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth.
STALACTITE CURTAINS, SWILDON'S HOLE.
Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth.
These stately columns, soaring vaults, and sweeping marble draperies were strangely out of proportion to the narrowness of the place. But now the sinuous aisle broadened out, and the style of the architecture was changed entirely. We were at the junction chamber where, in the remote past, two big streams came down from the yawning passages to the left and right, and met here, probably as the main stream of the cavern. The roof is a spacious dome, hung with resplendent candelabra. But the unique feature of the place, the thing that impresses itself on the memory as one of the most dazzling creations of the wonder-working calcite, is the stalagmite bridge. Bridge, I say, but it is more than a bridge, for its complicated arches support a beautiful piazza, with a huge array of dripstone terraces, crystal basins, massive pedestals, and obelisks of stalagmite, which all but fills the chamber and extends some distance up the alcoves behind. Standing on one of the great hemispheres of dripstone, one could put one's head among the pendulous shafts above, and see how each was marvellously twisted, moulded, and fantastically embossed and gemmed with flashing crystals. The splash formation covered everything beneath the roof, save portions of the polished floor, with millions of tiny spicules. We had to move about cautiously, not only for fear of doing damage, but to avoid gaping pitfalls in the bridge, the surface of which was smooth as ice.
STALACTITE CHAMBER, SWILDON'S HOLE.
Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth.
Whilst we were at work photographing a distant shout was heard, and soon the two men who had followed us down arrived at the big chamber. But our party was again reduced to its original four by the departure of two other members, who were to go back by the aquatic route in order to pick up certain articles that had been deposited on the way down. We ourselves hoped to get to the surface by another and a drier course. At the previous exploration two men had missed the rest of the party, and found their way, after divers adventures, through the ramifications of the cavern, to what they described as a great stalactite chamber, which was presumably our gallery. When they reached it, however, no one was there, nor any trace of human presence; either the explorers had finished their work and departed, or the pair had missed their way altogether. It was believed that they had come down to this very spot by the gallery joining this one on the north, and we purposed following that passage out. But this, as we presently discovered, was all wrong.
Two of us now went off on an exploring trip into the great passage running west. At once we encountered a series of huge obstructions. This passage was of the usual rift pattern, and, save for holes and crevices between, was wholly blocked up by large masses of tumbled rocks. One of us climbed to the top of the Cyclopean pile, whilst I attempted to make my way along at the middle height, but eventually found it easier to crawl through the culverts and water-gaps, regardless of mud and wet. Even among the piled-up rocks there were charming little nooks adorned with rich incrustations. When the rocks ended the open tunnel began to ascend rapidly; then, after a while, we came to another tunnel joining it on the north. This, though smaller, was the more important passage; the other shortly came to an end in a lofty grotto, bountifully tapestried with curtains and tassels of stalactite. We climbed the northern passage, through several brilliant displays of incrustation, and reached a level approximately 70 feet below the surface, by aneroid; there we could get no farther. But, unknown to ourselves, we had brought back important information.
We had noticed mysterious bits of string at two points in this series. When we reported the discovery to the two men left behind, they at once saw its significance. The two men whose route down to the stalactite chamber had caused so much perplexity had used a ball of string to mark their way out—these were the relics. Our casual trip had, perhaps, saved us from a night of blind wandering in the unknown branches of the great tunnel on the north. All being in readiness for our departure, we now proceeded to take up this providential thread. It was not an easy task. Often not an inch of string remained undecayed for many hundreds of feet together, and often we nosed the walls and floor, eagerly but in vain, for droppings of candle grease left by our predecessors. The way was dry, that was a relief, after six or seven hours in wet clothes; but it was a tighter squeeze than the other, and the sharpness of the turns was often aggravated by a portcullis of crystals on our backs, and a cheval de frise of stalagmite spear-heads against our stomachs. All the while we wondered whether we should really find the exit, or whether we should have to return and undertake the canyons after all. Mr. Balch compared our task of finding the desired exit to an attempt to ascend from the mouth of a river to some unknown point upon one of its tributaries, with nothing to indicate which way to take. This puts the position clearly enough, I think. There was no string to be found in the higher parts. At last the man in front disappeared feet foremost through the ugliest hole we had yet seen, out of which the noise of waters sounded ominously. A cheering cry came back to us; he had found the rift, where we had descended seven hours ago into the route through the canyons. A few more yards of determined wriggling, and the candle left by the other two men hove in sight. We found they had got out two hours ago. The stars were shining from a clear sky, and a keen frost was on the fields, but the excitement and the success of our adventure were stimulant enough to keep out the cold.
E. A. B.
THE GREAT CAVERN AT CHEDDAR
The ultimate goal of our researches at Cheddar has been the discovery of the underground river-course. Not many yards below the entrance to Gough's, or the Great Cavern, a large body of water wells up at the foot of a cliff, spreading out into a beautiful mere, half encircled by crags; flows on thence through the village, performing a great deal of industrial work on its way; and, finally, proceeds a mile or two farther as the Cheddar Water, to join its brother, the Axe, which has a similar origin. But less is known about the darksome course of the Cheddar Water than about the stream flowing out of Wookey Hole. With its tributaries, it has doubtless been the principal agent in the formation, not only of the caves, but also of the famous Cheddar gorge, which bears every evidence of having been produced by the gradual destruction of a series of caverns. Yet this important stream has actually not been met with hitherto at any single point of its course underground, and we have anything but complete information as to its sources on the uplands of Mendip. The owners of the Great Cavern, the Messrs. Gough Brothers, tell me that they intend to blast away about 10 feet of rock immediately overlying the exit of the river. When the stream is very full, water often bursts forth here from cracks and joints several feet above the normal level, and they imagine that there must be a chamber of some height just within. This, however, in my opinion, is not a necessary inference, since every cavity and crevice behind the outlet would at such times be heavily charged with water, under pressure, and the large cavities might be a long way back. It is curious that the water in a low tunnel recently discovered in Cox's Cavern, which lies some distance from Gough's, and at a lower level, rises and falls in unison with the movements of the water-level of the river outside, although that always remains 10 feet higher. Cox's Cavern is occasionally flooded, yet the water never rises to a point within 10 feet of the river level. Obviously the subterranean connection must be of a complicated and roundabout form.
At the time of my first serious attempt to explore the caves of Cheddar, when our party contained Dr. Norman Sheldon, Mr. J. O. Morland, and Mr. Harry Bamforth, two of whom have not since been able to join us in Somerset, I had not the advantage of knowing Mr. H. E. Balch, and we were utterly unaware of the great work he had been doing in the cave region adjoining Wells. On the other hand, we received invaluable assistance from the brothers Gough, who are not only proprietors of show caves, but take a sincere interest in underground exploration. Their father, who died in 1902, was the discoverer of the caverns that bear his name, and was actively at work pushing his way farther and farther into the rocky bosom of the hill up to the year of his death, at a good old age.
STALAGMITE PILLARS IN GOUGH'S GREAT CAVERN.
Photo by Gough, Cheddar.
THE PILLARS OF SOLOMON'S TEMPLE, GOUGH'S CAVES, CHEDDAR.
Photo by Gough, Cheddar.
The Great Cavern was discovered in 1898. The parts open to visitors extend in a generally easterly direction for some 600 yards, and consist of natural chambers and passages, connected here and there by artificial tunnels. We began work early in the morning, carrying into the cavern a large quantity of ropes, ladders of wood and rope, and plenty of illuminants, including a 2000-candle-power limelight, which with its lens or condenser is one of the most valuable aids in subterranean work. Many openings are seen overhead and in the walls of the cavern as the visitor advances, some of which end abruptly, whilst others lead into small grottos and galleries. One of the most conspicuous chimneys, or perpendicular caves, has at its base a peculiar staircase of stalagmitic basins, formed by the deposits of a calcareous spring that is now dried up. These basins are known as the "Fonts." Our conductors had been in the habit of climbing about 50 feet up this lofty chasm, over the crust of stalagmite, and a wire rope had been fixed to assist visitors in ascending to a broad, deep ledge. Above this point the rocks were much steeper. No one had ever succeeded in seeing the top, and at first we thought it would be impossible to ascend any higher without some sort of apparatus. We sent for a ladder, and meanwhile Dr. Sheldon and I tried to clamber over the jutting arch of rock that formed the first obstacle—a cave-pitch in a gully or chimney we should call it in climbing parlance. To our surprise, we succeeded in reaching the continuous channel or gutter above it, which ascended at a high angle, with sheer walls to right and left, and the other side of the huge shaft overhanging it. The holds were shallow and slippery, and with one hand grasping a candle we found the ordinary difficulties of a rock-climb multiplied enormously. Half-way up my candle went out, but my companion was now well ahead, and I groped my way after him with confidence. When a shout from below announced that the ladder had been hoisted up to the platform above the "Fonts" we were within a few yards of the top. At a height of 120 feet (by the aneroid) above this platform and of 170 feet above the floor of the cavern we found the shaft completely blocked up with débris and clay. We were in a subterranean pot, or swallet, of large dimensions, formed in remote ages by a big stream, which had worked through its Limestone bed, and continued its path at a deeper level. Whether this was the main stream that now flows in an unknown course hundreds of feet below, or only a tributary, it is at present impossible to tell. Mr. Bamforth's limelight was now projected up the chasm, revealing grand masses of superincumbent rock on the farther side, whilst the view downwards, past our friends into the dark bottom of the pit, was very curious. Roping ourselves together for the descent, we kept near each other for fear of a slip, and took the utmost precautions not to dislodge any stones on the heads of those underneath. The limelight was a great advantage, although many dark reaches had to be carefully inspected with a taper before we could secure foothold. When we got to the critical bit at the bottom we found the ladder placed ready for us.
Not far from the entrance to the "Fonts" is the mouth of a low passage on the other side, with a hole at the far end of it, that our guides thought must communicate with the underground river which, they conjecture, has its channel not far below this spot. We crawled into this burrow and fixed ourselves in the confined space round the black pit, which we found, by throwing in stones, had water in it. With a rope round my waist I climbed down the fissure, whose sides were of sharply corrugated rock though they looked like wet clay. About 30 feet down the hole grew so narrow that I could not turn round; I could just reach the water with my foot, but found that it was quite a small pool. Another "well," nearer the cave mouth, was explored after our further operations had been carried out. It was situated at the extremity of another burrow, but was much larger in circumference. Steadied by the rope, I climbed to the bottom and found a large pool of great depth about 30 feet below the edge. No current was perceptible, and its connection with running water is hardly probable. Some years later, a perfect skeleton of a man was exhumed from the clay beneath the stalagmite in this burrow; accompanying it were numerous flint flakes. Some peculiarities indicate that the find was that of a man of early Neolithic age. It is shown by the Gough Brothers at the entrance of their cave.
While some of the party were photographing the "show place," a lofty dome-shaped cavern with its sheet of stalagmite poured over the cliff like a petrified waterfall, two of us retraced our steps from "St. Paul's," as this beautiful sight is nicknamed, to the branch leading to the other principal shows. "Solomon's Temple" is a wonderful grotto, walled, roofed, and floored with gleaming white and ivory calcite, and set at the top of another great fall of stalagmite which has flowed on and on in a gentle stream and covered the floor of a lofty cavern with dimpling waves of crystal. Nor are these all its attractions, for on turning round the spectator sees on the opposite cliff a broad and voluminous sheet of stalagmite, rippling down, spouting and foaming over the rocks like a waterfall, but still as marble and white as frozen snow. We had seen all these things before, however, and were anxious to move on to new ground again.
ORGAN PIPES, GOUGH'S CAVES, CHEDDAR.
Photo by Gough, Cheddar.
A STALAGMITE FALL, GOUGH'S CAVE, CHEDDAR.
Photo by M. Martel.
In the fork between the main passage and this big cavern is a large irregular opening, with disorderly blocks of Limestone heaped up on its floor. We picked our way across these, and at a height of 40 feet reached the edge of an abrupt rock some four yards high. We dropped over on to an earthy floor, and going a little farther found ourselves in a domical chamber with three low exits. First of all exploring that on our left, we had a look at a slanting shaft filled with a "ruckle" of big shattered blocks wedged insecurely, above which are two small chambers incrusted with stalagmite, but with no apparent exit. We climbed down again, and tried the third opening. It led through a series of caves and narrow clefts into a larger chamber, all maintaining the same easterly direction, and there we found two possible ways onward. The first of these brought us in a few moments to the brink of a steep cliff, which seemed to be one wall of a considerable cavern. We preferred to wait for the limelight before venturing to let a man down into this unknown abyss, and meanwhile to examine the other passage. A few minutes' crawling brought us to a great pit, which sounded very deep when we threw in some fragments of rock. Apparently it was the chasm that had been described to us as 300 feet deep by one of our guides who had descended part of the way. We approached the edge with respect, and as a preliminary step let down a rope ladder into the upper part, which is strangely twisted. At a depth of 20 feet I found a possible landing-place; the second man joined me, and by dint of careful manœuvring the third got down to the same spot. With an 80-foot rope tied on, I now explored the next section of the chasm, and was delighted to find that there was just enough rope to reach a slope of big rocks at the bottom. A little more scrambling brought me into a vast chamber, the floor of which was piled up with enormous blocks, while the lowest part seemed to offer two possible routes onwards. One of these proved to be a mere hollow, but the other was evidently the channel of a stream, and apparently led onwards into further caves. But the roof was extremely low, and it was quite impossible to wriggle through. One of my companions, who had now joined me, also failed to squeeze through the opening, and we decided to leave it until the hole could be enlarged with pick and shovel. The alleged 300 feet was found by aneroid to be exactly 100 feet. In a corner of this lofty cavern was a steep fissure which seemed to be well worth exploring. The bottom half of it was completely walled in by an enormous flake of Limestone that had come down from the roof, and looked as if a touch would send it tumbling on the heaps of rock at the bottom of the cave. We scrambled up the fissure at the back of this, and reached a promising gallery; but, to our disgust, this was entirely blocked up with clay and mud at the top, and it was impossible to proceed. Gaining the summit of the huge Limestone flake, we lit up the cave with magnesium wire, and were deeply impressed by its height and the grandeur of the shattered crags bristling on walls, roof, and floor. Everything was black, save one long, dripping cascade of stalagmite on the wall over against us; its unsullied whiteness shone weirdly out of the gloom as the fierce light fell on it. Just at that moment voices were heard, and from a rent in the rocky wall in front the intolerable beam of the searchlight came right in our faces. The remainder of the party had followed us up, and reached the spot where we had first looked over into the deep chasm. Revealed in all its extent by this penetrating light, the cave reminded us strongly of the enormous chamber that we had explored a few months earlier in the lowest part of the Blue John Mine in Derbyshire. On the way back one of the acetylene lamps fell down the pit by which we had entered, and was completely smashed. With no other mishap, we made our way through the tortuous passages and amongst the chaos of tumbled rock masses back to the cavern under "Solomon's Temple."
Two of us explored the openings above "St. Paul's" a few days later. A 30-foot ladder was placed against the corner of the stalagmite fall, and a yard or two of scrambling took us to the top. On the left was an ascending vault, with openings to right and left. Taking the latter to begin with, we found it gradually trend downhill and dwindle away into a series of holes scarcely big enough to let a human body pass. Squeezing through with a good deal of trouble, I reached a flattish cave with a floor of rock and stalagmite all cracked and fissured. The whole of this part seemed to have been shivered by some large movement of the rocky strata. One of the fissures gave entrance to a passage underneath the floor; but this speedily narrowed, and when it was impossible to get farther I found myself right underneath my companion, who was holding my rope and paying it out as I advanced from his original position in the outer passage. No other exit being discoverable on this side, we crossed to the passage on the right, and after a few yards of crawling under a depressed roof we found ourselves on the largest expanse of stalagmite either of us had ever met with. It had flowed down from fissures high up on our left and spread over a wide, rocky slope; it had then contracted and poured over a cliff immediately on our right. We still kept the rope taut, and moved about cautiously, for the crystalline floor was extremely slippery, and the cliff immediately beneath us would have made the slightest accident serious. A broad flat roof of rock overhung the floor of stalagmite closely, and was covered with thin pipes and reeds of stalactite. We soon ascertained that we had returned by a different route to the crown of the petrified cascade in "St. Paul's," although a craggy partition separated us from our route up the ladder. We explored the edges of this huge surface of stalagmite, which we could not measure, having no better light to guide us than a few tapers, but which could not be much less than 100 feet wide. Where the deposits came down through crevices at the top they had settled in jewelled and diapered masses of the most fantastic patterns. Our situation was, however, too precarious for lingering in this strange spot, and without another man to back one up it was impossible to explore the hole at the top. We gave up our quest reluctantly and returned towards our ladder, incrusted from head to foot with the thick, plastic clay. A convenient knob of stalagmite enabled us to give the rope a hitch whilst we scrambled down to the top of our ladder.
One other passage from the main cavern was explored, with a curious cluster of vertical cavities near its extremity. The end of the passage was coated in every direction with tinted deposits, among which we noticed beautiful specimens of the branching stalactites that were called anemolites by the explorers of the Blue John caverns, who thought they had acquired their abnormal shapes through the irregularity of evaporation caused by air currents. I climbed 30 or 40 feet up one of the openings in the roof, whilst Dr. Sheldon explored another. At the top we found no exits big enough to afford a man passage. A wider cavity in the middle of the roof looked more promising. A ladder was adjusted, but fell short; but my companion, with considerable risk of a dangerous fall, clambered up to the rocky slope and over the piles of jagged blocks that well-nigh filled it. This too failed to afford us a passage, and the daring climber had great difficulty in coming down, being forced to thread the rope and let himself down on it to the ladder. During the operation a flake of rock came hurtling down and hit the ladder, but luckily did nothing worse than smash a rung. These cavities in the roof were extremely interesting, and no doubt are connected together and have a common origin in some neighbouring fissure or waterway.
FIVE CAVERNS AT CHEDDAR
The Cheddar gorge, which is the deepest and narrowest defile, and on its south side presents the loftiest face of absolutely vertical rock in England, is not dissimilar, though far superior in height and grandeur, to the Winnats pass in Derbyshire. The huge chasm runs east-north-east across the dip of the Limestone beds, which are tilted up towards the saddle of Mendip; one of its sides, consequently, is formed mainly of shelving rock, and the other is almost continuously precipitous. If, as may be assumed with confidence, the original cause of the ravine was a stream or streams flowing through a chain of caverns, one would naturally expect to find openings on the abrupt side through which the underground waters were successively tapped, and followed the trend of the strata to a lower level. This view is confirmed by observation. Except at the jaws of the defile, where both sides are equally high and precipitous, there are no caves on the northern side, but on the south openings both large and small are frequent, some narrow and lofty—"slitters," they are called locally—the others low and wide, according as they originated in a vertical joint or a bedding plane. They occur at various levels, some on inaccessible shelves high up in the cliffs, others along the base. But the larger number of these openings have in the lapse of time become silted up with clay and débris, so that the entrance is either completely masked or it is impossible to penetrate far without toilsome work with pick and shovel.
After exploring the Great Cavern our party of four devoted some time to an examination of these openings, so far as could be done without excavating. There are three important caverns in close proximity to the Great Cavern, or Gough's. The best known is Cox's, a small but exceedingly beautiful stalactite cavern (see frontispiece). No one interested in caves would think of visiting Cheddar without seeing the Great Cavern, nor would any such person dream of missing Cox's. Each is the complement of the other as a piece of underground scenery. The spacious vaults and vast stalagmite falls of the one fill one with a sense of power and majesty; the other is a gem of fantastic architecture, embellished with the most lawless and fairy-like designs of the subterranean artificer, and unique in one respect—the wealth and diversity of the mineral deposits that have dyed its multiform incrustations with luminous tints. No sane man, however, would attempt to describe Cox's Cavern in detail, and a photograph can give only colourless glimpses of its kaleidoscopic beauties. The cavern seems, at first sight, to be a solitary freak of nature, having no connection with the general system of caves and streams. But since the visit just referred to, several new passages have been opened, among them the interesting water-tunnel with its ebb and flow corresponding to the movements of the Cheddar Water outside, which, as already described, flows at a higher level. Of three other good-sized fissures or ancient channels radiating from the same large chamber, two after a while dwindle away almost to nothing, but the third has indications of a channel striking downwards, which it might be worth while to clear of rubbish. All these passages were choked with clay until quite recently.
IN COX'S CAVERN AT CHEDDAR.
Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth.
GREAT RIFT CAVERN, CHEDDAR GORGE.
Photo by Bamforth, Holmfirth.
The next cave also is of minor interest to the speleologist, although it contains many curious sights. It is called "Gough's Old Cavern," and its entrance is close to the mouth of the Great Cavern. It is an ascending cleft, apparently not linked at present with the other caves, although it was once probably a sloping aven draining into the big series of caverns that have been gradually cut back by the falling in of the defile. Whoever likes such things may find here plenty of those freaks and alleged similitudes that puzzle and delight the ordinary sightseer. On a stalagmite excrescence nicknamed the "Ribs of Beef" we had the luck to see a far more interesting phenomenon. The calcite mass was clustered over with a number of motionless black objects, which we found to be roosting bats, hanging head downwards by their claws. They were not disturbed in the least by our presence, and one that was lifted off gently just showed his teeth and claws, and clung on again as fast as ever when replaced on the rock to resume his patient sleep. A photograph of this curious sight was obtained by means of the flashlight. At the head of the cave are several incrusted grottoes, where the process of deposition is still going on, roof and walls streaming with moisture. This part is not unlike the show places in the Bagshawe Cavern in the Peak of Derbyshire.
In many respects the Roman Cave is much more interesting. Its mouth is situated about 150 feet up the cliffs, almost immediately over the cave just described. Quantities of Roman pottery, coins, bones, and other remains, have been discovered there, showing it to be one of the places that sheltered fugitives after the evacuation of Britain by the Roman legions. The entrance is a broad anticlinal arch, and the main passage, high-roofed and ascending gradually, runs east for perhaps a furlong. Then the floor, which has been covered with earth and stones, becomes rugged and rock-strewn, and suddenly we creep through a lowly portal into a high and gloomy chamber, the shadowy corners of whose roof our lights are too feeble to explore. To all appearances this was the end of the cavern; but we had been told that the passage takes a turn here and goes on nearly a quarter of a mile farther. We scanned every part of the walls as far up as we could see, but no accessible opening disclosed itself. In a recess on one side a number of fallen rocks were piled up and wedged between the converging walls. To examine the cavity from a vantage spot, we climbed with a good deal of difficulty to the top of these, and there, to our astonishment, a wide passage sloped up at right angles to the one we had entered by. A curious slit in the wall opened into a perpendicular fissure that was situated right in the roof of the latter, and through the hole we caught a glimpse of our friends following us up. Three men now pushed on up the new passage and entered a chamber whose sole exit was a small and uninviting hole. We crawled and scraped through, and on over sharp stones till at last we could get no farther. We had evidently doubled back over the main cavern, and that we could not be far from the open air was shown by the presence of a bewildered bat, who flew to and fro in the confined space and hit us in the face several times. And in the extreme recess of this narrow branch a steady draught of air blew in through a crevice and nearly put the lights out. Through an oversight we found ourselves at this point reduced to two tapers and a bit, and to economise we kept only one alight at a time, so as to have enough for the return journey. All went well, however, and the sole difficulty we met with was in getting down over the wedged blocks in the big chamber, a climb that proved extremely awkward when taken the reverse way. In many parts of this cavern we noticed prodigious quantities of moths on the walls, as well as many huge spiders. But a more interesting thing was the vegetation naturalised in the caves, examples of which we found in other Mendip caverns as well. It will be advisable to have them examined by a botanical specialist. All I can say about them now is that they consist of extremely slender branching tendrils, some white and translucent, others brownish, thin as cotton.
It was late in the afternoon when we entered the Roman Cavern; it was dark now, and the stars were out. Returning in advance of the others, I sat down just within the majestic gateway of the cavern, a flattened arch about 100 feet wide resting on enormous rocky jambs, and looked out across the deep wooded abyss where Cheddar lay, its lights reflected here and there by the dark waters of the mere, towards the craggy heights of Mendip opposite, just sinking down towards Sedgemoor. The Great Bear was shining brightly right in front—it almost spanned the breadth of the cave mouth; and the solemnity of the place and the hour could not but bring to mind the miserable fugitives who sat in this forlorn asylum, hemmed in by foes, and looked out on the same giant constellation thrice five hundred years ago. The place is admirably adapted for defence. A rear attack was of course impossible, whilst a frontal attack by way of the cliffs would be easily repelled; and a tolerable water-supply was to be found inside the cavern. The huge natural glacis of the fortress is covered to-day with a dense tangle of ivy and other climbers, through which we made our way heedfully, for a slip would have been easy in the dark, and a terrible fall the consequence.
Next morning we strolled up the defile and looked at the mouths of several caves that are now choked up. Two furlongs above its entrance the ravine makes a double curve like a gigantic figure three. The two crescents of beetling Limestone, with their jutting horns, that appear to the astonished beholder underneath like towering pyramids and slim aiguilles, rise to a vertical height of 430 feet, and, being absolutely unassailable, they fill a crag climber's mind with admiration tempered by regret. What enhances their grandeur, while it softens the savage aspect of the sheer and ledgeless precipice, is the bountiful vegetation clinging wherever it can find a hold, dark shrouds of ivy and darker masses of yew standing out against the grey rock in beautiful relief. Would the indomitable scramblers who haunt Lakeland at Easter, we asked ourselves, have forced a way up these tremendous "chimneys" if the Cheddar cliffs had been pitched somewhere in the latitude of Wastdale? We went so far as to reconnoitre one alluring fissure, 200 feet or more in length, but the gap between its base and the first feasible lodgment was insuperable. Not far away a long talus of scree marks the foot of an easy though rather sensational way to the cliff top. Passing it by, we stopped at the mouth of a vertical fissure that opens on to the roadway. It expands slightly inside, and the roof soars higher and higher; then the floor breaks away, and the two men who descended the next 80 feet had to be steadied by the rope. The walls were wet and soft, being incrusted with a sticky calcareous substance. At the bottom of the precipitous slope the magnesium ribbon revealed the enormously lofty walls of a narrow chamber, whose farther extent was blocked up by an accumulation of rocks and débris.
Returning to the open air, we ascended to the cliff top, and, skirting each promontory and rounding the edge of every bay, proceeded towards the mouth of the defile on the lookout for openings. Not far from the highest point we had noticed from the road a series of dark cavities. One man scrambled along a ledge to the uppermost of these, and found that it was merely a shallow niche, and another, on a ledge some 50 feet lower, proved to be only 20 feet deep. He made a determined effort to reach another fissure on the same level as the last but sundered from it by a wide space of cliff which was covered with dense brambles. Holding on to the prickly stems, and fighting his way through, he got near enough to see into the fissure, but was quite unable to enter it for a closer examination. An opening in the cliffs at a lower point, but still some 200 feet above the road, led a long way into the recesses of the Limestone strata, making two wide curves to the right, but maintaining a generally easterly direction. The passages were very low, narrow, and awkwardly shaped, involving a great deal of unpleasant crawling; and when we reached the stalagmite grotto at the end we found that it had been pillaged of every bit of calcite that could be removed. This cavern, the "Long Hole," must have been the channel of a stream that once flowed from somewhere on the other side of the gorge, through the mass of rock that has now been swept away by the forces of disintegration. Though several hundred feet long, it is but the tail end of the cavern that once existed.
The remainder of our time was devoted to two of the Burrington caverns, on the opposite side of the Mendip Hills, and to a fruitless search for a large chasm or swallet hole into which the drainage from the now abandoned lead mines on the top of Mendip used to fall and ultimately find its way to Cheddar, where it poisoned the trout stream. A score or more of years ago I saw these mines, still in working order; but now the dried-up pools and the wilderness of refuse, with fragments of ruined buildings, look as old almost as the remains of the Roman mines. Of the important opening that we sought there is now no trace; it may have been filled up intentionally and the stream allowed to revert to its old channel, whence it had been turned artificially. Hard by, in the Long Wood near Charterhouse, and elsewhere, there are smaller swallets that we were already acquainted with; and there are others at Priddy, the waters of which find an exit farther to the east.
The ground we were on is well known to readers of Walter Raymond's romances, and we were much interested when it was pointed out that the lonely house facing us was the actual Ubley Farm that figures in Two Men o' Mendip.
E. A. B.
THE BURRINGTON CAVERNS
Burrington Combe is a smaller Limestone defile on the north side of Mendip—that is to say, the opposite side to that of Cheddar. It is smaller, and because of its proximity to Cheddar it has to suffer disadvantageous comparisons. Anywhere else the grandeur of Burrington Combe, the magnificence of its crags, with dark, heather-clad Black Down lowering behind them, and the beauty of the copses that lurk in its corners and clamber up its precipices, would excite the admiration of guide-books and attract crowds of tourists. Like the Cheddar defile, Burrington Combe was doubtless formed by the gradual destruction of a series of caverns, and there remains of that series a number of caves or openings of blocked-up caves on either side of the ravine. Of these the most important and the only one well known to speleologists is Goatchurch Cavern, which was explored by Professor Boyd Dawkins in 1864. The next in importance is Aveline's Hole, discovered in 1796, but not explored till 1820, when about fifty human skeletons were found lying side by side with their weapons, a stalagmitic crust sealing bones and implements to the floor. This cavern has since had its mouth silted up by drainage from the road, so that troublesome excavation will have to be undertaken before it can be entered again. It would well repay a thorough exploration, for it is reported that a natural pit, covered by a slab, has never yet been descended, and leads probably into important cavities. Foxe's Hole is interesting for its curious bosses of tufaceous stalactite. A nearly vertical cave, Plumley's Den, has been stopped up with a plug of timber and stones at the depth of 80 feet, in consequence of a fatal accident to a man who tried to descend it in 1875. At a level probably a few feet below that of the caves whose destruction was the origin of the Combe, a good road with a grassy margin now ascends towards the top of Mendip, where it joins the old Roman road that runs from "Severn Sea" to Old Sarum, along the crown of the ridge.
Our waggonette when we left the Bath Arms at Cheddar was piled up with ropes, cameras, gas cylinders, condensers for the searchlight, and an incredible amount of needful and superfluous things, for we were quite unable to say what would be wanted. Climbing to the miniature mountain pass across Mendip at Shipham was hard work for the horse, and we walked up the hill. Dr. Sheldon and Mr. Bamforth were my companions. Our clothes, still richly daubed with the clay and mire of the Cheddar caverns, made our appearance both business-like and picturesque. The north side of the Mendips is very different from the bleak and craggy slopes on the south. From the broad bare top of the hills down to the valley stretches, almost continuously, a deep mass of trees that looks in the distance like a wall of dusky verdure. We drove between orchards where great bushes of mistletoe grew on nearly every tree, till we were within a few hundred yards of Burrington village; then, turning towards Mendip, we drove through more orchards, till suddenly the rocky entrance of the Combe appeared and we heard the clink of pick and crowbar in the Limestone quarry not far from Plumley's Den. Half-way up the gorge makes a sudden bend towards the east, a little below which point a shallower ravine comes in on the other side. About 120 feet above the bed of this dry ravine is the entrance to Goatchurch Cavern. We coaxed the horse over the stony turf and up the ravine till the roughness of the ground and the thickness of the bramble bushes stopped him. At this point we were met by the lord of the manor, Mr. James Gibson of Langford, who is the owner of the Burrington caves. His men assisted us to get our apparatus up to the cave mouth, and afterwards convoyed us and the luggage throughout the less difficult parts of the cavern.
A few years ago the entrance to Goatchurch Cavern was an insignificant hole, through which adventurous boys used to crawl as far as the first considerable chamber, where Professor Boyd Dawkins found a few remains of extinct animals. Owing to the depredations which were made by neighbouring villagers in search of specimens of calcite, Mr. Gibson recently had the entrance enlarged and closed with a padlocked gate, the public being admitted only on certain days of the week or by appointment. It is a pity this step was not taken before many of the finer stalactites had been carried away. In this long chamber, the floor of which is covered with sheets and bosses of dripstone, we entered some of the funnel-shaped openings in the roof by means of a ladder, but soon perceived that no discoveries were to be made that way. At the end of the chamber a precipitous hole goes down to the left, and fixed ropes are used for getting into the lower galleries. We found ourselves at once entering on a maze of passages, where the presence of our guides saved valuable time. So intricate and bewildering are these ramifications that Mr. Balch tells me that he discovered a passage some years ago that led him eventually to a much deeper part of the cavern than had ever been reached before, but every attempt to rediscover the passage since has failed. In spite of our efforts to examine every branch of the various passages, we also missed this important link. It would seem that the solid mass of the hill has been shivered here into vast, roughly cubical fragments, between which lie the irregular passages and narrow chambers of the cavern. Many tempting galleries lead the explorer on and on till they dwindle to a mere rabbit hole, or till he finds himself wedged in the cleft between two enormous surfaces of rock. Disorderly accumulations of boulders and splinters cover the floor; there is hardly a level spot anywhere, and it is desirable to explore every yard carefully with a taper or a lantern to avoid the consequences of a rash step. We crawled on hands and knees and wormed along through insignificant holes, making our way into spots that had probably not been inspected before; but we always came back to the main channel, where our guides were waiting, having made no noteworthy find.
Assembling again in a more roomy chamber, about 140 feet below the entrance, we all proceeded along a tunnel that showed evident traces of the action of a stream to another chamber, where the sound of running water came up from a grim-looking chasm. Only two of us went beyond this point. The rest secured the rope, whilst we climbed down the steep hole into a large cavern through which the stream runs from the swallet hole in the ravine outside on its way to Rickford Rising, where it issues in considerable volume. The stream has a somewhat puzzling course after leaving the cavern, for it runs underground athwart Burrington Combe and through the solid hill opposite, Burrington Ham. This stream, as Professor Boyd Dawkins pointed out, was doubtless the originating cause of Goatchurch Cavern, running in at the present mouth, which is now dry. The ravine outside has since been hollowed out to a further depth of 120 feet, and the stream finds its way in at a lower level. The Professor also describes a very pretty experiment. Having taken the temperature of the stream before it enters the cave, he tested it again after it had run some distance underground, finding that it was here several degrees cooler. It is obvious that a colder stream must have joined it at some unknown point midway.
The nethermost series of chambers and passages are not very different from those above, their shape rugged and irregular, and their floor heaped up with fragments of all sizes. We reached no lower point than that attained by previous explorers—that is, 220 feet below the entrance, as measured by aneroid. Squeezing with difficulty through the deepest fissure, I found myself in a small cave, whence, turning round, I only perceived one exit. It looked and felt so small that I despaired of pushing through and turned to go back, when it suddenly occurred to me that this was the hole I had come in by, and there was no other way out. Such little incidents often happen in cave work, but most often in such a complicated network of tunnels and fissures as the Goatchurch Cavern, where we were quite convinced that an important passage ran due east until the compass assured us that the direction was west. Clambering up a steep bank of stiff clay out of the lowest cave, we reached a vaulted grotto with a cascade of stalagmite flowing down one side. On the edge of this a sloping passage disclosed itself, lined with stalagmite, and we ascended it in the expectation of finding something new. It brought us by an easy scramble back to the upper cave, whence we had descended on the rope; and with little more deviation from the main passages we made our way back to the cave mouth, where a well-earned lunch was waiting.
But little time was wasted in examining the silted-up entrance to Aveline's Hole and another cave mouth, and the next halt was made at Plumley's Den. Tying two Alpine ropes together, a pair of us descended this ancient pothole as far as the artificial pile of débris that blocks it up. One man was hit rather severely by a dislodged stone—a serious danger in caves of this sort—and in returning he dropped and smashed his acetylene lamp. The hole is effectually plugged, a tree and a quantity of stone having been flung in after Plumley's fatal mishap; and until Mr. Gibson carries out his proposal to remove the stones that block it, the 200 feet which are said, on doubtful authority, to lie beyond can never be explored. Mr. Gibson also proposes to bore a new entrance from the Combe into the lower series of caves at Goatchurch. Above Plumley's Den a magnificent rib of Limestone, like those at Matlock, springs nearly to the hilltop; and over the way a picturesque pile of crag comes out to meet it, and is known as the "Rock of Ages," from the tradition that Toplady, the divine, taking shelter under it from a storm, composed his famous hymn there.
Still piloted by our kind host, we walked across Burrington Ham and saw the brook which we had heard babbling amid the silence of Goatchurch Cavern flowing out, a strong body of water, at Rickford Rising, after a subterranean course of about two miles from its sources high up on Black Down.
Rickford Rising is in the Secondary beds, but a short mile up the beautiful Combe at whose outlet it lies, a Limestone ridge comes down to the road. Hard by the extremity is a hole in the rocky ground, now almost entirely choked with stones, but not so many years ago an open pit. It is known as the "Squire's Well." Here, in times of continuous rain, a body of water issues forth, often flooding the road. It seems to be connected with the water-channels that feed Rickford Rising, to which it acts as a safety valve. To open it would not be a very serious affair, and might discover something interesting.
At the back of Mendip Lodge, on the hill immediately west of Burrington Combe, the hilltop is cut up by innumerable ravines ending in swallets, the water of which comes to light again in a large stream in the Yeo valley near Upper Langford, about a mile away. Several of these swallets look as if they would repay the trouble of a little excavation; and the size of the stream at the point of issue indicates the existence of large cavities in the line of its subterranean course.
E. A. B.