Deep down and dirty

The hour of truth had arrived! The time had come to explore a rat-sized hole, probably unexplored since the closure of the mine in 1903. (Some arsenic production happened after that, but I assume that was another part of the mine.) Rick, Lionel, Dave and me gathered at the chimney of Devon Great Consols, and well, a mere 1.5 hours later (Dave needed more time to get ready than Kate Moss needs for getting ready for a night out, according to Lionel) we ventured underground. Lionel showed his unequalled rigging skills (all safe though, readers!) and down we went. Once down Dave conjured up a tripod and a new camera, and he got so carried away that the next time we saw more of him than some light in the distance was back at the surface.

We do not leave things to fate: here we measure the ropes so we're sure we have enough of it...

This simply is a beautiful part of the mine; the wide lode, and the false floors on massive timbers. It's fewer and fewer of these with time, though... on this picture you can see only one. The white light above it is Dave taking pictures. The floor is level, by the way; the camera was slightly tilted...

We pushed on, and soon Rick and Lionel were down where we had ended the last time. Lionel is better with a crowbar than with a deviation (though his Y-hang was immaculate!) so in no time the hole we had in mind was big enough for a human. Which human? The two sturdy tough guys looked at each other, looked at the hole, looked at each other again, and then I heard a voice from down there call “Margot; do you feel brave today?” Of course I did! I had hoped all the way I would be the first one down. And the opening probably was big enough for the men too, but Rick isn’t as comfortable on a rope as he should be, and Lionel had no faith in the air quality down there. We had forgotten to bring a monitoring device....

I dropped down into what evidently had been a narrow ladder way, which after a while opened up again to full mine shaft size. They had evidently created a partial ceiling, leaving only these two ladder ways open, stacking loose rock up over many meters. That was what the men were standing on.

When I had a bit more space for looking around I had to conclude the winze had been flooded. It must lead to a level we cannot reach. Too bad! If there’s a period of drought we might come back. Maybe then we can explore further.... but for this day the exploration had come to an end. I came back up, incessantly talking (that was our improvised oxygen monitoring device; if I would stop the men would know there was a problem, and haul me back up), and soon resurfaced, looking like one big blob of mud. Happy days!

One may believe me when I say that kit needs rinsing. The face too, by the way...

We decided to go back. Here my new and improved arm muscles worked a treat! I had the honour of being the last one up, so I did the de-rigging; that’s good, as I can use the practice. That I managed to emerge at the top of the last big rope pitch as a veritable plate of spaghetti, having knitted myself and my kit thoroughly into the rope, may be a sign I still have some skill-honing to do.

We came out in the unexpected sunshine. What a day! I should have jumped into the nearby pond, as it would have greatly relieved the stress on my bath as a main means of cleaning up, but one can’t think of everything, now can one. Compromised hygiene or not, this had been a good day of exploration!