IN THE OGO, NEAR ABERGELE.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
The St. George's Caves are situated on and about a wooded hill of Limestone near the village, which adjoins the low-lying lands of Morfa Rhuddlan, the scene of a murderous battle in the year 795. The Celt, with his strong historical imagination, such a factor in national solidarity, still remembers, though confusedly perhaps, some incidents of that calamitous fight. The old woman who pointed out the situation of the caves drew our attention to the ditch and rampart which run round the hillcrest, where it is not protected by cliffs. There, she said, the routed Welsh tribes had entrenched themselves and fought desperately on until every man was put to the sword. The wood on the hilltop is full of graves, she told us, and weapons often come to light there.
A great master-joint or fissure runs across the hill towards the battlefield, and in it lie the caves, or rather the cave, for so far as we could make out they are all parts of one stream-channel. At the top of a cliff that is now being worked for lime is a small orifice, a mere fox's hole, blocked up against Master Reynard or the badgers that often find a home in these small caves. A hundred feet beneath it is a larger opening, which is said to give entrance into several good-sized chambers; but that also has been carefully built up with fragments of Limestone by the quarrymen. We were driven accordingly to seek the outlet of the cave, and this we found by following the smooth, straight escarpment, produced by the fault, in a wood close to the mainroad. A large stream once issued from the cave mouth, but has since become engulfed in some internal swallet, and emerges a few yards lower down, welling out from a funnel of crystal water some 15 feet deep. The cave itself discharges a stream only in flood-time. There, too, we were stopped from penetrating far by the beds of clay that gradually rose to the cave roof; but in this instance the deposits had been made by the stream, and were not the results of glacial action pushing upwards. In fact, this is a cave with quite a modern history, one still in working order, and used as a waterway at the proper times and seasons by the stream that made it. The Tanyrogo Caves, on the other hand, have ceased for untold ages to be actual water-channels, having been deprived long ago by denudation above and behind them of the greater part of their drainage area. And since that remote epoch they have gone through the series of vicissitudes so plainly recorded in their present physiognomy.
A PRE-GLACIAL CAVE, LLANDULAS.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
The other day, a Liverpool friend, who has a bungalow in the Ceiriog Valley, close to Offa's Dyke, told me he had found a cave there, which had never been explored, but was reputed to go six miles underground, to the neighbourhood of Oswestry. He invited me to come down and explore it, and I readily agreed, on the condition that he was to seize the opportunity to make his début as a cave explorer. On the side of the valley where the cave lies the hill falls steeply to the Ceiriog, and the densely-wooded cliff of Limestone that bathes its foot in the river is like a bit of Dovedale. Not so the other side of the valley, where different strata crop out, and the hills, with all their trees, rise more gently to the brow overlooking Llangollen.
The cave mouth is about 20 feet above the river, in a cliff facing due north, in which the Limestone is tilted at an angle of 45 degrees. It is recessed within a lofty arch, but the entrance itself is low, compelling us to creep for the first few yards. After two or three bends, the roof as well as the floor rises, and the passage opens into a chamber whose floor is heaped up to a height of 10 feet with fallen débris, thickly plastered with mud. At first the cave runs due south, but the main axis of this chamber, which is lofty and measures about 20 feet by 20, runs east-south-east. The roof rises about 20 feet higher than the central heap of débris. Water drips occasionally, but there are no stalactites. At the far end the passage turns south-east, and, though lofty, is narrow, the walls being parallel, and tilted at an angle of 20 degrees from the perpendicular. Then a second chamber widens out, 50 feet long by 6 feet broad, as muddy as the former. Rising 10 feet, the passage continues to the east-south-east, but the walls converge for a time, forcing us to crawl, extended on our sides. Then it opens out again, and we climb over more heaps of débris littering the floor, and all bedaubed with thick, tenacious clay.
Now the passage becomes loftier but narrower, and progress has to be made by keeping near the roof, the walls sloping at an angle of 30 degrees from the vertical, opening at one point into a small chamber with a false floor of jammed rocks, then immediately closing again, and so continuing for a distance of 60 feet. The narrowness is so great that one goes ahead only by dint of a continuous struggle against friction. Up to this, my friend had kept close at my heels, followed by his man. But here the only way visible was down a still narrower rift bending off to the left, and the latter found his own diameter greater than that of the cave. We left him, and pushed obstinately forward, though we had not seen a sign of any person's former presence for a long distance. Nearer the cave mouth matches and candle-grease and the marks of crawling had been plentiful, local adventurers having got in nearly 100 feet.
ON THE CEIRIOG.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
UPPER CEIRIOG CAVE.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
Already we had struck the water in two or three places, but had not found it in the main passage. Now we crossed a long pool or runnel of stagnant water, which came in from under the rocks to the south-east, and climbed into a tight little curving tunnel that led back to it in a semi-circle. Beyond it, I found myself in a rift chamber, with the water coming in from under the rocks at one end, and flowing out in like manner at the other. There seemed to be no egress, till suddenly I noticed that the niche in which I was sitting was the end of a small horizontal hole or dry water-pipe, striking off at right angles. But my companion had found the tunnel too much for him. The sides bristled with points of rock, and pressed in so close that one could only wriggle through by fractions of an inch, stretched at full length on the left side. Now he made a stout attempt to get through underneath, in the water tunnel. I heard the sound of wallowing, and then my friend's head and shoulders came splashing in at the bottom of the cave, his body dragging after through water and mud. But again he stuck fast, and announced that he would give the thing up.
It was not wise to go on far alone, for fear of being left by any accident without a light; but in order to make a reconnaissance for future work I pushed through the water-pipe, and to my delight found myself in another horizontal tunnel running parallel to the main chamber. Crawling ahead, first over a clay-lined floor, and then over splinters of Limestone mixed with stalagmites, I emerged presently into an open passage, 25 or 30 feet high, with the stream peacefully reposing in one long pool at the bottom. It appeared to go on indefinitely, and I might have gone farther, but for the present determined to leave off the exploration at this point. The parallel tunnel seemed to be going straight back towards the cave mouth, and it looked as though it might form a short cut home. As a matter of fact, this was a right branch striking off from the point where our man had stuck fast. By crawling in his direction and shouting, I made him hear, and at last saw his light through a chink only three inches wide. Fallen blocks of Limestone choked the tunnel at his end, where it leaves the main passage near the roof, and in its present state this branch of the cave was practically invisible. We shifted several big stones, however, and in a few minutes my friend joined me, pleased enough to find a way out that saved the discomforts of his recent journey. He had had the misfortune to array himself in white flannels, and now the state of his garments was so deplorable that he straightway hid himself in the river, like the pseudo Marquis of Carabas, until more presentable clothing could be fetched.
LOWER CEIRIOG CAVERN.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
A veteran cave-hunter from Liverpool gladly joined me in a second visit to the Ceiriog Cavern. Our host could not be with us, but sent a village youth as his substitute. This young man was very keen and plucky, and, as things turned out, saved the situation, for my speleological friend, to his intense chagrin, failed to get through the narrow entrance to the parallel tunnel, and the two of us had to finish the job by ourselves. Climbing along the walls of the water-rift, we soon found it best to wade straight through the stream bed, and finally, when the space grew more and more restricted, to crawl through the water. Toward the end of the rift a small tunnel broke away to the left, and the water disturbed by our advance flowed into it and away down a small swallet. Wriggling through, heedless of a wetting, we came into a small chamber with four exits, each of which we explored, marking off each with a cross or arrow to prevent our losing the route back. Every branch led eventually to other points of divergence, and ultimately to small tunnels or pipes, through which the water flows in rainy weather into the head of the cavern. Having conscientiously examined every one, without finding the mythical passage to Oswestry, we returned to the tunnel of the swallet. One of the bifurcations, it was interesting to discover, led back unexpectedly into the water-rift. There were numberless chinks and fissures, and holes in the roof, leading into this network of passages, all very interesting as a concise example of the whole history of the formation of a cave; but the farthest point reached was, by measurement, only a little more than 500 feet from the entrance. Only in places were there stalactites, and those small ones. There were stalagmite curtains on the walls at one or two spots, and patches of very white amorphous tufa. Curious filaments of cave-weed, white and brown, without a vestige of leaves, abounded throughout the cavern. Not far above the cave mouth I came across the exit of the water, a beautiful spring, pouring down into the Ceiriog, a few yards away.
On the top of the hill, in a disused Limestone quarry, there were traditions of a cave opening that had been covered by a landslip for some thirty years. A man was set to work digging it out, and a small fissure was disclosed, the old channel of a tributary leading into the middle of a cave running north-north-east and south-south-west. The total length was 172 feet. The water apparently entered at the top of the left passage and ran away into a low bedding cave to the right. The floor is wet clay at present, but there are traces of large stalagmites, including one handsome "beehive"; and the roof is covered with beautiful white and amber stalactites. Our further attempts to uncover openings into the Limestone only brought us down to the solid rock, and we found nothing to confirm the rumour that a cave exists which carried a stream down to the Ceiriog, feet below.
The explorers who have done so much work in Derbyshire and Somersetshire have also carried out extended explorations in some of the more remote caves of Yorkshire. Recently a party carried out farther investigations than any previous explorers in Stump Cross Cavern, on the moors between Wharfedale and Nidderdale. This cavern, which is named after the ancient boundary mark of Knaresborough Forest, and is situated near the summit of the moors, 1326 feet above sea-level, 4½ miles from Pateley Bridge and 11½ from Skipton, was discovered in 1843 by miners searching for lead, as was the case with several of the Derbyshire caverns. The Greenhow lead mines are not far off, and the ground in many parts hereabouts is riddled with old workings. No place could look more unlikely for caves than the flat field on the top of the hill, where a few steps lead down to a doorway into the ground, close to the rough road to Grassington and Appletreewick.
The party of five, besides myself, Messrs. B. and F. Wightman, J. W. Puttrell, J. Croft, and H. Bamforth (all members of the Kyndwr Club), drove up from Bolton Abbey Station by way of Burnsall, and through various delays did not reach the cave mouth till nine o'clock on Saturday evening. With our photographic and other apparatus we descended at once to a level gallery 50 feet or so below the surface, whence several passages branch off, and there we made a halt. To give a clear general idea of the structure of this cavern is not easy. It consists of a number of galleries running in different directions at different levels, with a few intercommunications, and many continuations that have gradually become choked with clay and stalagmite and have for ages been impassable. Descending the steep stairway in a northerly direction one soon reaches the first of the natural passages, which bears to the west. A gallery goes off to the right, west-south-west, and bifurcates, but is uninteresting, the earth and clay that show its proximity to the surface rendering it very dirty. In the opposite direction, east-north-east, the corridor where we had placed the luggage and made our general rendezvous continues to a distance of 120 feet, and then dwindles away into a low stalactite grotto. Being so inaccessible and so little known, the various chambers have never yet been christened, except with the vague and general names of Upper Caverns and Lower Caverns, which have little meaning owing to the intricate conformation of the series. From our rendezvous two important tunnels, called the Lower Caverns, go off in a westerly direction from the bottom of a natural shaft 20 feet deep. These were left for the present whilst we went into the Middle Caverns, which strike off to the north from the same spot, and after many turns and twists approach the surface in the ravine of Dry Gill, south-east from the entrance to the caves. Many chambers and passages open out from this series, the largest and most beautiful being called, very inappropriately, the Top Cavern. As it leads eventually to a charming piece of cave scenery that we agreed to call the "Bowling Alley," it might well be named after this.
IN STUMP CROSS CAVERN.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
THE PILLAR, STUMP CROSS CAVERN.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
I will now, as clearly as I can, follow the steps of the party in their exploration of these Middle Caverns, and proceed afterwards with them into the other series. Descending gradually, and passing many nooks and corners where exquisite recesses are wreathed about by the ivory-white incrustations on wall, roof, and floor, we stayed to drink a ceremonious glass from the icy waters of Jacob's Well, a crystal pool curtained in with masses of stalactite, and then passed on to one of the chief show places seen by the public, bearing the modest name of the Chapel. Its great attraction is the series of massive pillars of translucent white that seem to uphold the arching roof. In few of the caverns that I have explored is there anything to compare with the stateliness of this pure colonnade, the cylindrical shafts of which are a good deal longer than a man's height, and modelled fantastically by the irregular deposit of the calc spar. One column in this part of the cave measured three feet in circumference. A peculiar beauty was the transparency of the material, a pure glassy white through which the light of a candle shone clearly, whilst a light inside converted the hanging folds and clusters of stalactites into a beautiful species of lantern. On the walls were folds and ridges of snowy stalagmite, and from the roof hung stalactites of all shapes and sizes, myriads of threadlike growths hanging in a lacy fringe. Onwards the arcading and the array of pillars extended into a roomy vault, the end of which struck upwards, as already explained, south-eastwards, toward Dry Gill. Though a perceptible draught comes through from the open air, and the heaps of clay-coated blocks show that a swallet is not far off above, no way can be forced through without excavation. Augmented by the arrival of two or three local friends, the party descended, after lunch, into the Lower Caverns. Unlike the other passages, with their continual windings and perplexing branches, these two series of large vaults, narrow tunnels, and almost impracticable crevices maintain a westerly direction throughout, and the few branches strike off decisively to the right or to the left. Two of us, being delayed by some trifling accident, missed the others at the bottom of the short vertical descent, and, unaware that there were two series of passages, crept on along the first that opened. This had the appearance of an old stream-bed, the ground being littered in places with blocks of Limestone, in others clayey, and in some parts smoothed down by the rush of a torrent. High in places, it often dwindled to a very low passage, through which we crept and wriggled after the manner of the serpent, ofttimes exerting no little strength to push beneath the projections overhead. Here a shaft of glassy stalagmite, uniting floor and roof, tried to bar the way, and there it was impossible to advance without scraping against the vitreous threads that hung like hairs from the dripping rocks. We shouted to the others who we thought were ahead of us, but got no reply, and after twenty minutes of this painful progression began to think of returning. Noticing a hollow in the right wall, I asked my comrade to wait while I examined it. Inside was a blind passage and the round orifice of a small tunnel, into which I thrust my head and shoulders and then crawled forward. It was not an inviting hole, being wet and an exceedingly tight fit, and I was on the point of returning when a voice was heard faintly in the distance. Listening intently and creeping on again, I heard the voice more distinctly, and shouted. The voice replied from below. I quickly realised that we two had missed the others, who were following a lower series of passages somewhere beneath us. Unable to turn round, and too far advanced to return up this slippery tunnel, I saw there was nothing for it but to push on, head downwards. In a yard or two, to my unspeakable relief, the hole grew big enough to turn round in, just before I got to the end of it, and saw Messrs. Croft and Puttrell, 12 feet below me, holding out their hands and inviting me to drop. The leap was a little sensational, but I had my turn of enjoyment in witnessing the grace with which my comrade from above, who was now courteously invited to follow me through the water-pipe, took the jump on to the clay floor of the lower tunnel.
We returned later to the other westerly passage, at the top of the water-pipe. Examining every opening carefully, we noticed many similar communications between the two series, evidently proving that the upper was a very ancient stream course that had been tapped successively until the lower tunnel superseded it as a waterway. Pushing ahead, we soon realised that we had arrived at the richest part of the whole cavern, though also the most inaccessible. The roof came down bristling with spikes and shafts of the purest calcite; the floor was one mass of crystallisation, ridged all over with the rippling lines that form as the crust grows under water. This exquisite scene was continued for hundreds of feet, various and indescribable as a dream, whilst our march onward over the sharp crystals of the floor and through the portcullis that closed every chamber was as painful as a nightmare. Loveliest of all was a long tunnel that once held many pools of water, half-encrusted over with a film of carbonate. Only one of these lucid mirrors remained, but the dried-up basins were as beautiful now as ever, with the bottom and sides covered by a coraline growth delicate in colour as in form. At the end was a small dome-like chamber, where we extended ourselves for a hard-earned rest before facing the toils and tribulations of the journey back.
THE CHAPEL: STUMP CROSS CAVERN.
Photo by E. A. Baker.
We thought this expedition to the lower series had exhausted the principal beauties of Stump Cross Cavern, but we were wrong. On our way to rejoin the other men in the Middle Cavern we were much impressed by two large curtains of stalactite, one of them folded and wrinkled, and the other hanging straight down without a curve, but both striped with deep bands of crimson, orange, and golden yellow when a piece of magnesium was burnt behind them. These were equal in extent and brilliance to anything I have ever seen, even in Cox's Cavern at Cheddar. A round tunnel, ribbed and groined with glistening dripstone, and a broad low arch set with pillars and string-like stalactites stretched from top to bottom, led into the long, wide chamber that we dubbed the "Bowling Alley," on account of the stumps and pedestals of stalagmite that stud the floor between the pillars. Beyond it a short passage leads into a grotto to the right, and a very difficult one continues some distance to the left.
It was now past three in the morning. Tired and battered to the point of exhaustion, but delighted with an exploration that far exceeded in interest all we had looked for, we returned to the cave mouth. An unpleasant-looking bull which had with great suspicion watched us make our nocturnal entry into the regions below had, greatly to our relief, got tired of waiting, and the coast was clear. Out of the everlasting silence and the shadows, lit so rarely by the glare of the magnesium and the beams of the limelight, we returned again, with the surprise that never fails, to the light of the heavens. Dusk was on the far-extending moors and hills, daylight was creeping on over the sky, a pair of larks saluted us with a hilarious song. Our driver was soon awake at the little inn, two furlongs away, and in the freshness of the morning we crawled down the break-neck road to Appletreewick, Bolton Woods and the Wharfe growing in light before us; and then at an exhilarating pace rolled up the dale to the Red Lion at Burnsall.
Between Sparrowpit and the head of the Winnats the old road from Chapel-en-le-Frith to Castleton skirts what is, geologically, one of the most important localities in Derbyshire. It runs along the side of a shallow upland valley, about 1200 feet above tide-level and two miles long, which is bounded on two sides by the curve of Rushup Edge and on the other two by Elden Hill, Windy Knoll, and other Limestone acclivities. One of the great faults of the Pennine chain traverses this valley longitudinally, the Yoredale strata having been thrown down to the level of the Limestone, so that the middle of the valley is the boundary between the Yoredale rocks, shale grits, and milestone grit on the north, and the Limestone plateau of Mid-Derbyshire on the south. The valley is completely encircled by higher ground; there is no egress for streams on the surface. Accordingly other modes of drainage are to be looked for, and they will be discovered in a numerous series of swallets situated along the line of the fault, the water that runs over the impervious shales perforating the Limestone as soon as it comes in contact with it. This shallow valley, in fact, is the gathering ground for the waters that pour into the abyss of the Speedwell Cavern, traverse Peak Cavern, and make their way to the open air at Russet Well and other springs at Castleton. That such is the case has long been proved by observations of the temperature and colour of the waters, and by tracing chaff and other things thrown into the upland streams. But there exist hardly enough data to establish the theory of the French speleologist, M. Martel, that Peak's Hole Water comes from Perryfoot, and the water of Russet Well from Coalpit Mine, near Sparrowpit. All that is definitely known is that these waters run through the massive Limestone for distances varying from two to three miles and reappear in Castleton, 600 feet beneath. Whether they unite into one or two large streams, which form considerable chambers and caverns in the inaccessible region beyond the farthest known parts of Speedwell and Peak Caverns, is an interesting question, that tempts one to answer boldly in the affirmative, since the action of underground streams in Somerset and Yorkshire seems to justify the assumption, if we take into account the extent of the vertical joints eaten away by the water in its descent of 600 feet, and the effects of periodical floods. In Somerset, in a situation exactly similar, two caves of 600 feet fall and 2000 feet horizontal measurement have recently been discovered by opening similar swallet-holes. Is there any hope of finding such hypothetical cavern or caverns here by exploring, and if necessary opening artificially, any of the swallets between Perryfoot and Giant's Hole? The investigations recently carried out by a friend and myself do not make us hopeful that if there are such caverns they will ever be made accessible.
We began our work at Giant's Hole, which opens in the bottom of a little gorge between Peak's Hill and Middle Hill. The brooklet that runs in at the cave mouth was very low, and we passed almost dryshod over the rough stones that cover the stream-bed for some 60 feet. Giant's Hole has an arched entrance about seven feet high, and the first part of the cave retains the same form. Then the walls contract, and the cave takes the shape of a deep and narrow canyon, cut through solid rock, with the stream coursing along at the bottom over little falls and waterslides and through pools that are not easy to pass without a wetting. One hundred and fifty feet from the entrance to the cave is a lofty rift, near the top of which an upper gallery turns west, the general direction of the main passage being southerly. Passing this, we followed the stream downhill for another fifty or sixty yards, and were then brought to a standstill by a partial choke. At this point a quantity of stones and gravel comes within two feet of the roof, and the water is dammed back in a pool a foot deep, so that there is barely a foot of clear space between water and roof.
Returning to the steep climb to the upper gallery, we scaled the wet and slippery rocks, and found ourselves on a shelf over the canyon. The shelf gave ingress to the gallery, which rose gently in a westerly direction, with frequent twists and turns, and then turned north. In 150 feet it divided. We scrambled on; but all the branches evidently approached the surface of the ground, becoming earthy, and we soon found it impossible to get any farther. This upper level, which for our purposes was of less interest than the lower, is incrusted with deposits throughout its length of 80 or 90 yards. There are stalagmite curtains and sheets of tufa on the walls, the older rocks on the floor are cemented together with a crust of polished stalagmite, and some of the boulders are covered with shining enamel. We found it best to use an Alpine rope in getting back to the lower level, the ledges underneath not being easy to find by candlelight. Outside the sun was shining brightly, and the light that streamed in at the cave mouth, through the ferns and flowers and grasses that encircled it, was stained a fairy-like green.
Continuing our way through the gorge between the sharp Limestone knoll of Peak's Hill and the bulkier Middle Hill, we followed a stream that comes down from Rushup Edge, perforates the Limestone base of Peak's Hill, and comes out on the other side at a small cave. In three furlongs this stream is swallowed under a cliff some 20 feet high, the ingress at present being through a series of holes, where the water makes an intermittent roaring, almost like the throb of a hydraulic ram, as if a siphon were momentarily discharging. Older rifts are seen in the same line of cliffs, and can be penetrated for 30 feet, but are now deserted by the water save at flood-time. Farther on is a deep depression in the hillside, big enough to engulf a house. It is supposed locally to have been produced by the falling in of a cave roof, but it is more probably an independent swallet, one of a series, nearly all funnel-shaped and long out of working order, that lie along a higher level in the Limestone than those that occupy the line of demarcation from the shales. The biggest of them is Bull Pit, which we come to later. Next to the last pair of large openings into which streams are running, and which may be called the Peak's Hill Swallets, since their waters rise out of Peak's Hill, we come to a large irregular series of trough-shaped hollows converging on another swallet at this same geological border-line. The openings here are all little ones. But the next swallet has a cave above it, into which we entered. It does not go far, but it has two ascending branches that can be traced to two small depressions in the Limestone where tiny affluents have percolated and cut for themselves little tunnels in the rock. The next swallet beyond this has but a small opening, although the hollow cut out by its rivulets through the shales is hundreds of square yards in area. An abrupt cliff walls in the hollow on the Limestone side, only a few paces from which are naked patches of Yoredale rocks, clearly defining the boundary of the two series.
We now came to one of the most interesting openings that we have met with. It lies about 200 yards north of Bull Pit. As often happens, immediately above the swallet, in the Limestone, is a deep chasm almost perforating the escarpment. At the base of the escarpment is a rounded archway with a turbulent stream running in. After securing a photograph we enter, and make our way down stream easily for a little distance; then the cave twists and narrows, and at a distance of 40 feet or so we are disappointed to find the channel too confined for us to force our way farther. Outside we had observed that the basin-shaped area had been flooded not long ago, and inside the vegetable débris that was plastered over the walls and roof showed that the swallet must have been completely choked during the recent wet weather. But the peculiarity of this swallet was that the solid mass of rock through which the stream had carved its way was not ordinary Limestone, but beautifully veined and crystalline like marble, and its surface smooth and polished. It had very much the same appearance as the marmorised Limestone found in the neighbourhood of intrusive lavas, such as those near Tideswell. By the action of the water it had been sculptured into fantastic shapes; in one place a corner had been cut through and a small pillar left, joined to the rock at top and bottom. We scrambled with some difficulty into the chasm behind the swallet. At the bottom, on the same side as the existing swallet, was the broad and lofty arch of a cave, which went only a few yards in, otherwise it would have broken through the escarpment. Right above the keystone of the arch was a weathered group of stalactites hanging from a ledge, and under them the broken stalagmite floor of a tiny grotto. It is a rare thing to find such deposits in the open air, and doubtless it indicates that the chasm was formed by the destruction of a larger cave. A thick deposit of earthy mud covered the floor, and at one side a big hole penetrated this to a depth of six feet, the work of a stream that had perhaps not run for ages. This deposit, though dry, was so soft that I nearly sank through into the hole. We found four birds' nests in this cave mouth, with eggs and young in them, and were disappointed not to come across the egg of a cuckoo that flew out the moment before we entered. In the wiry grass not far away from the top of the cavity we discovered a lark's nest with two eggs in it.
Bull Pit lies in the wood just above this opening, nearer the road. It is a great open abyss, walled on three sides by crags of Limestone nearly a hundred feet high, and with trees growing all round the edges. This, no doubt, is a very ancient swallet that has not been in operation for ages—belongs, perhaps, to the same period as Elden Hole, which opens 200 or 300 feet higher, a mile away, on Elden Hill. A little way on, near Perryfoot, we come in sight of another very ancient cavity, on the side of Gautries Hill. It is a gaping pit about 70 feet deep, with a noble arch inside, spanning the entrance to a broad cave. At present the cave mouth is silted up with sand and clay. All these rocky openings are the lurking-places of beautiful ferns and mosses; the feathery fronds of the Limestone polypody, the late primroses, various saxifrages, and the delicate foliage of herb robert making a brave show. The wilder birds take refuge there. A crow flew out of the hole on Gautries Hill, and one day on approaching Elden Hole I was startled by a dense cloud of jackdaws, more than a hundred, suddenly rushing out. Farther down, from 50 to 100 feet lower, a host of starlings had built their nests on the walls of the chasm. Disturbed, they came flying up in twos and threes, beating the air in painful efforts to wing their way straight up and out of the hole.
At Perryfoot a stream is engulfed which M. Martel considers to be the source of Peak's Hole Water, and to be identical with the stream that flows through the inmost passages of Peak Cavern. It now runs into a cleft that is too small to be explored. But at a comparatively recent date it was swallowed in a number of large fissures in a crescent-shaped wall of Limestone 100 yards away. Most of these openings are impracticable, but at the extreme east I had already reconnoitred a promising cleft which we now proceeded to examine thoroughly. This complicated swallet, with the passages behind it, is known locally as "Manifold." Going east for 35 feet, the fissure divides, one passage striking up towards the surface and the other turning south. We soon had to crawl, the passage being very low, narrow, and lined with objectionable stones. After 30 feet more we came to a wider place, with a sort of chimney on one side. Here was the sole mark of humanity that we found in this cave, a stake that had apparently been used to climb into the chimney. Nothing was gained by climbing it, so we squeezed our way along the main passage. Now the tunnel grew into a high but narrow canyon where we could stand upright, then it dwindled to a tunnel again, generally descending, but occasionally rising in what was once a siphon. We passed one or two branches, at the most important of which the principal tunnel curved to the left and descended a little more steeply over some small ledges and basins brimming with water. We began to feel sanguine about the wished-for cavern, but presently the diameter of the tunnel grew so small that we could not advance another yard. My companion was some distance behind with his candle out, and I would not make a move until he had got it relighted, the consequences of both candles going out at once being unpleasant and possibly dangerous. For a long way we could not turn round, and had to crawl feet foremost. Just after repassing the junction my companion shouted that we were going wrong. He did not recognise the passage. I remained at the junction whilst he went farther and ascertained that it was the right channel after all. Then I examined the branch. It ascended 20 feet and then divided, the left branch, which was earthy, plainly striking up to the surface, the right branch going back towards the swallet. Undoubtedly there must be quite a labyrinth of dry water channels to correspond with the numerous series of openings in the cliff, but the one we explored seemed to be the largest and most practicable. Very tired and hot, not to mention the dirt, we made our way back to the exit, glad to feel that our day's work was done.
The one thing that had impressed us most during our explorations was that all these swallets and water channels are cut through solid rock. Only when the rocks are shattered or disintegrated, as in the cases alluded to in Somerset, would there be any possibility of enlarging a swallet artificially. And though we had penetrated to a distance of 400 feet at Manifold we had not found the passages growing more roomy nor enlarged by the accession of tributaries. So far, the prospect of opening up the large fissures and chambers that must surely exist deeper in the rock seems unfavourable, unless the main channel of Giant's Hole can be unblocked.
E. A. B.
The new and exciting game of cave-exploring has been pursued so strenuously during the last four years that one would almost think the possibilities of fresh discoveries had been exhausted. When a little while ago, therefore, rumours came in of a big cavern in Lathkill Dale, so big that people were said to have been lost in its recesses, they were received not a little incredulously. But after the usual allowances had been made for exaggeration and myth, and the alleged casualties reduced to the misfortunes of a sheep-dog who spent fourteen days in the cavern, probably rock-bound on a ledge, it still appeared that there was something worth exploring. Accordingly two friends, Messrs. W. H. and G. D. Williams, who were residing near Matlock, kindly undertook to find the cave or caves, and see what was to be done; and a native of Middleton was commissioned to make further inquiries. First, a letter arrived with the disappointing intelligence that there was no cave on the Lathkill, nothing but old mine workings: but hard on its heels came a wire to say that a cave had been located and was being explored tentatively. Then further messages arrived with mention of another opening, but which was the reputed great cavern was a question to be settled only by a regular exploration.
A day was fixed for the campaign, and my section of the party drove up early in the morning from Bakewell Station on the Midland. Our friends were waiting at the head of Ricklow Dale, a mile below the little village of Thornyash, and we proceeded without delay down that streamless canyon, first over smooth greensward between the grim Limestone walls, then hopping from point to point of huge, close-packed fragments, until we reached the uppermost cave mouth. It has a very imposing entrance, solid piers supporting a massive lintel, about 20 feet wide. It opens in the west cliff of Ricklow Dale, at a height of 690 feet above sea-level, and is evidently the source at times of a large stream. Ricklow Dale is really the upper part of Lathkill Dale, above the junction with Cales Dale, and the head streams of the Lathkill originally flowed down it from the neighbourhood of Monyash. But at a later period, seemingly, the stream betook itself to an underground course, until it emerged into the open from this cave. At the present time the cave is swept by water only when the deeper cavities of the rock overflow. This happened, for instance, a few weeks ago, when the cave discharged a considerable stream, and was for the time being quite impenetrable to man. As the Messrs. Williams had been into this cavern a day or two before, we left it for the present, in order to try some unexplored openings farther down the dale.
On the same side of the dale they had detected the entrance to something, whether cave or mine they knew not, covered in by stones and earth. With pick and crowbar an entrance was soon exposed, not much larger than a badger's hole, and we crept through. At once it became evident that the hole was not a natural one; it was no "self-cave," as the country people say, but an ordinary level or a sough draining a lead mine. A pool of water filled the tunnel from side to side, stretching away into the distance; and as we preferred, if wading were necessary, to postpone it as long as we could, we left this alone for the present, and went on with our quest at two other spots in the entrance to Cales Dale. Needless to say, we had missed no opportunity of cross-examining the inhabitants of the district, but the results had been absurdly inaccurate and conflicting. Already a crowd of rustic onlookers had gathered round, but the only individual among them who knew anything about the region inside was the afore-mentioned sheep-dog, who could tell us nothing. He, too, was the only one who showed any inclination to join our underground party. In the upper Cales Dale Cavern, as we named it, he actually went ahead of us, and put our candles in jeopardy with the spirited wagging of his tail.
This cave is doubtless a very ancient channel of the Cales Dale Water, which now runs through hidden crevices till it meets the Lathkill; the span of its antiquity may be gauged by the fact that Cales Dale has been cut 200 feet deeper, and the cave left high and dry, since it was a regular stream-course. I say dry in a comparative sense, for we quickly found ourselves confronted by a short passage of extreme dampness. The main channel runs west for 150 feet, and then divides, both branches dwindling rapidly to mere water-pipes. But near the entrance a branch strikes off to the right. Although the roof came down on our backs as we crawled, we managed to keep just above the surface of a shallow pool that lay in the middle: but a second pool was almost entirely mopped up by our journey to and fro. The passage ended in a chamber where two can stand upright. Every bit of this little nook is covered with a creamy-white and brownish coating of amorphous carbonate. It is like a small empty shrine, with heavy curtains flowing over its walls, their folds and ridges flecked with innumerable scaly projections, like some delicate frilling. The rest of the cave is devoid of charm, though there are interesting masses of white tufa on the walls, as soft as putty.
At the bottom of the dale, almost exactly under and parallel to this upper cave, is a larger one, which we called the Lower Cales Dale Cavern. It is entirely concealed by bushes and nettles, and we had to remove a mass of blocks and detritus before we laid bare the two entrances. Even then, room could not be made for the broad-shouldered member of the party to get in. At the end of 15 feet of very tight wriggling there was more head room. We were in a straight tunnel, arched as evenly as a culvert, the floor covered with the gravelly deposits of a stream. Evidently it is a channel still used frequently by the Cales Dale Water. It ran due west for 300 feet, with room in most places for us to crawl on hands and knees: then it bent one point to the north. Here the stream had thrown up a low dam, behind which it had bored a series of holes on the south side, through which most of it gets away. Soon a wall of rock, shaped like the steps of a weir, confronted us, at the top of which we found ourselves in a wide, irregular chamber, the height of whose roof varied from 6 feet to 18 feet. We called it the Pot Hole Cavern, because of the number of water-worn cavities in the roof. The biggest of these cavities appearing to give entrance to an upper gallery, I climbed into it with the aid of a comrade's shoulder. It contained a pretty grotto, lined with incrustations, but led to nothing. Deep horizontal fissures yawned on every side of the Pot Hole Chamber, and vertical joints split the interposing strata. All the exits, however, came to an end speedily except two, one extending a point east of south, the other a point east of north. I explored the northern branch before my friends arrived. It had several short ramifications, in some of which there were trails of rabbits, and other evidences of a communication with the surface, such as pieces of sodden wood and deposits of soil; but it gave ingress for barely 50 feet. The other branch seemed more important, and as we were tired out and hungry, we left it until we had returned to the dale for rest and lunch, a waste of time, unfortunately, for it ran only for 100 feet farther.