South Bedford: the finale

This mine shaft had eluded us three times. Would we finally get down into it? If we would, then surely not without some difficulty!

The adit of South Bedford leads to a shaft. On the other side the tunnel continues. We had spent one trip concluding that. One trip figuring out if there was an entrance to a lower level. One trip dropping in from the top, and exploring the tunnel on the far side of the shaft. And the day had come when the usual suspects Dave, Lionel, Rick and I would drop the actual shaft.

I was on my way home when Lionel phoned. Dave wouldn't be coming; could I go and pick up some bolts? We'd need them! I could, but that would take up the time I had scheduled for eating. Oh well. Lionel would get me a sandwich...

I got the bolts. And even made it in time to the meeting point. So far so good. There I found Rick. He was in his pyjama bottoms, and looked miserable. He handed me his drill and proclaimed he would go straight back to bed. Oh dear! No Rick! And as well: no rope! I knew Lionel expected him to bring one. I hadn't brought mine either. I figured it wouldn't be long enough, anyway...

Then Lionel turned up. Without a rope! We decided to solve this by borrowing Rick's, so Lionel and I followed him home. There we got the orange rope, and a befitting hug from Rick's girlfriend, to congratulate me with my king. But then we were off. It would just be the two of us!

We got to the shaft without issues. Then we were faced with the task of drilling holes. Not easy; there was nowhere to stand comfortably while doing that. With a lot of effort, sweat, and discomfort Lionel managed a hole anyway. But when he put his weight on it, we saw it move. Not good! He had to drill another one.

Lionel bolting the holes. With interesting dirt impersonating facial hair!

It was none by the time we had managed to rig this place. But better late than never! I was the first down. It was a nice shaft, but only a shaft. No levels going off in any direction! After a while I could see the garbage that was filling it up. We wouldn't be able to go further. So nothing down there. I did want to go all the way down, though.

 

The garbage filling up the shaft

And then I saw it. A level, after all! I shouted to Lionel, and swung in. Exciting! In no time Lionel was there too. Time to explore!

The previous level had already been hardly ever visited, but judging by the pristine flowstone on the floor, and the stalactites and stalagmites almost blocking the way, this one had perhaps been visited even less. Maybe not at all since the mine closed. Beautiful!

Me in the level

Zinc air pipes, being incorporated into stalactites

Lionel makes his way past the dripstone obstacles

Flowstone on the floor: a sign of little disturbance

An especially decorative column next to some more piping

A pretty cluster of stalagmites

The colours in there were rather spectacular in general

There wasn't much archaeology; we found a hammer, a pick-axe, and lots and lots of zinc air pipes. But not much more. And not much oxygen, either. We didn't dare linger! We did make sure to explore all apparent dead ends (they were actual dead ends, it turned out) and then we went back. Lionel went first, so I could still take some pictures. Another venue explored! And quite a special one as well...

More running that I thought

In winter I established my new running routine. With a profound lack of showers on my side of the campus, I swapped from lunch running with colleagues (even though, in the end, it was more "with colleague"; only Hugh was still going) to running before work. Although I must admit I swapped with a bit of a gap in between, of no running at all. And that routine, ill-omened as it may have been (how many people decide to go running in January? And how many are still going strong in May?) is still functioning swimmingly. I go every second day. And it's not a long run; on a fast day it only takes 24 minutes. And in spite of it being clearly beneficial, that way it forms a pale comparison with 1.5 years ago, when I would do off-road races of up to 10 miles all the time. So although I admire my own discipline in running regularly, and sometimes already being out on the street before 7AM, I don't feel like a serious runner. And I've only been a runner at all for about three years. So I was surprised that these modest efforts have lead, after all, to serious wear and tear on my running shoes! The sole is wearing through. Blimey. All this kit that feels like I have only had it since yesterday (like water bottles) wears out before you know it. Signs that even if you don't notice it, time is passing in large quantities! Life's not waiting!

A king

Change the wallpaper in your house, and it will create a whole new atmosphere. Does wallpaper make a fundamental difference? No. But still, it is impossible to ignore when it changes.

In a way, I see the Dutch monarchy that way. Do I really value a monarchy? No. Is it massively outdated? Well, yes. Does it serve a purpose? I do think so! Whether you like it or not, people will have nationalistic feelings, and these need a target. And a royal family makes a good one. Other possible targets are football teams. Or politicians (consider the USA). And veneration of football teams is somewhat prone to involve alcohol, noise, vandalism, and sometimes violence. Not necessarily my favourites. And I think people should not get too much sentimentalism involved in their political views. So in a way, a royal family is a sort of lightning rod for patriotism.

And they are just there, like the wallpaper. I've now mentioned it several times here: I grew up in the assumption that the Netherlands were ruled by Lubbers, the USA by Reagan, Germany by Kohl, the UK by Thatcher, France by Mitterrand, and the Vatican by John Paul II. And on the Dutch throne we had Beatrix, and on the English throne Elisabeth II. That was it. That was their function for eternity. Nothing would ever change. And it did! And it's a sort of sign of universal transiency. Of me getting older. Of nothing being certain. If Belgium ever falls apart into several countries, it will hardly affect me, but I will be shaken by it. Some things are just not expected to change. Ever.

I made sure I saw Beatrix sign away her reign, and Willem-Alexander sign his way into the first kingship in living Dutch memory. And I smiled when I heard the "Bea, bedankt" (Thanks, Bea!) from Dam Square reaching Beatrix's ears, and her smiling too. I smiled when Willem-Alexander started his first regal public speech with "lieve moeder" (dearest mother). Something that just was there for as long as I can remember is now gone, and it did affect me. Kids that are now the age I was when Beatrix ascended the throne will grow up with our new king as a given. My guess is, many of them will make sure they witness it when he steps down in his turn, and they will smile too!

 

The new king and his family on the river pageant. Picture: Jos de Moor

Hugh's farewell

It's the end of an era! Hugh has left us. One might assume that the end of this era had come when we broke up, but that wasn't the case. It's sometimes odd to see how friendships can still blossom after the relationship has crumbled. Having a relationship builds a lot of familiarity, and that often stays, sometimes for many years. So Hugh's office was still so close I could hear him type, and we still went on all sorts of adventures together. Friday was his last day in the office. No more reassuring sounds from across the corridor! I'll miss them.

It not only was his last day in the office. but also the last day in his apartment. Monday he would drive north, but on Friday he had to vacate in order to make space for the cleaners. So where would he go? Somewhere familiar: my place. A bit odd to move in together in such configuration, but hey, one of our lab technicians actually bought a house with his ex, where they are living happily ever after, so here in Plymouth they're used to something.

On Friday we had Hugh's goodbye drinks. It was nice! First some pints in the pub, and then off to a restaurant for dinner, and for a small speech and some presents presented by Hugh's closest collaborator. He hadn't expected anything of the kind! Naive chap.

Will takes the piss: here Hugh, who had to do a lot of pulverizing for his research, gets a pestle & mortar and a sample of dust...

After the restaurant we went to another pub, and another, and after that I went home, but Hugh went to another and another and who knows what else. I heard the key in the keyhole at around 3AM. A good goodbye! And then we had a calm and responsible weekend, in which he vacated his office too (snif!), I booked my train to York in order to find a place, and did several other useful things. We also went for our last run together for a while. And on Monday morning it was goodbye!

 Domestic bliss: we made a nice apple crumble together. I did the apple, he did the crumble!

Last run together

I'm sad now. And of course, in a month's time, I'll be moving up north too, and we will meet again, but it will be different. Living in the same town and having offices 2 meters away form each other is something different from being a 2.5 hrs train journey away from each other. And I'll need some of my weekends to build up a life in York. And sometimes go back to the Netherlands, or elsewhere. We'll see how things evolve.

I wish Hugh all the best in Liverpool, and I look forward to do some exploration of the midlands together! There's much to see: Leeds, Birmingham, Manchester, the peak district, the Lake district... I hope we'll have much fun to look forward to!

 And there he goes! In his blue car...

Hawk's wood mine

It would be Hugh's last PCG caving trip! It happened to concern Hawk's wood, or Hawkswood, as it may be more casually known. It would be a struggle to get to it.

He had started packing, and whatever had been packed had been stored in his car, so we took mine. I made sure I had my satnav with me, and, in case the battery ran out, also written instructions on my phone. I didn't hink of bringing a map...

We were off. We had to travel a long way along a road I didn't know very well. Just after a specific village, of which I knew it didn't have a village sign, we would get off it. We were happily driving through a village that might or might not have been the one when, without warning, the satnav quit. No battery! And I don't have a cigarette lighter in my car. So I looked for indications that this was the village in question, while I dug out my phone, handed it to Hugh, and told him how to use it. I didn't see any of the landmarks I saw on google Streetview, so I just continued. And shortly afterwards I saw a familiar car behind me - Alex! Would he not know the way?

Before we came to a village that might have been the one we reached the A30. Bad news! That meant we had gone too far. I gestured to Alex I was confused, and pulled into a layby. There I explained the situation to him. It turned out that as soon as he had seen me, he had switched off his satnav. oh dear! But no reason why he couldn't switch it back on again. So now it was me following him, rather than the other way around. And this way we got there.

We jumped into our kit, and walked to the entrance. there is choice; you can get in through the top or the side. We chose the top, as we expected to come out through the side. And we found many fellow cavers! It was a well-attended trip.

 

Some of the nice green flowstones in the mine

I had only been there once before, and I enjoyed seeing it again. It isn't big, but it's nice. One of the sights is a shaft you can look into from below. I always wonder if you could free-climb it. This time I also wondered if the frog we found underneath it had fallen in. he probably had! As even a frog can't jump out I put it in my little tackle bag. I'd bring it back to the surface! I was a bit afraid, though, I'd forget; this would, at best, lead to me having a frog hopping around in my house, and at worst a frog dying of hunger inside a bag.

We went back. At some clamber Lionel halted. I was wondering why. He said you could get out that way. Really? I looked at it, figured going up was easy, that going down would be hard but not impossible, and chanced it. He went off to the right; i went off to the left. I found an inclined shaft, with beautiful yellow flowstone. The green stuff in the lower level (pic above) might give some idea. I decided to have a look! It was really beautiful. Imagine an inclined shaft entirely covered in yellow ripples. And water flowing down. It was most magical!

Finbar, Dave., Lionel and another Dave light up the flowstones of the previous picture (having many Daves is a thing of all times!)

After a while I heard Hugh below me. And then Lionel. And Alex. Apparently, we were checking this place out! I was careful; I wasn't sure if this woul really lead out, and I didn't want to go up anywhere I wouldn't want to come down again. (I learn!) But it went and it went and it went. And then it stopped. It seemed to end in a collapse. But that was only appearance: I turned a corner, and saw daylight. It really did lead back to the surface!

I clambered out, and released my amphibian passenger. When I opened the bag, I found him sitting serenely ion my water bottle. Not an excitable lad! But that's for the better.

 My temporary friend

We got back to where the others came out, walked back to the cars, changed, and drove to some pub I hadn't been before. It turned out to have a band playing! And they had more enthusiasm than talent, which, as far as I was concerned, worked out fine. Not everybody agreed! And after a pint there the only things to do then were to bugger my indicator lens on Rick's car (no, I'm not good at parking, including the getting out of a parking space) and get home. Nice evening! And I trust Hugh will find his way down, either with the club on a trip out, or without the club altogether!

Logistics of moving house

It sounds so simple. You find yourself a new apartment, pay the deposit and get the key, and go back to your old apartment. There you pack your stuff, have a removal company pick it all up, have the cleaner come in, evaluate the result with the letting agency, and hand back the keys. Then you go to the new apartment, let the movers in; they deposit the stuff and leave, and then you can make your new abode your home.

But this might involve some time travel. As soon as the movers have your stuff they start driving. You're supposed to be on the other side first, to let them in, so you'd better jump in your car and race them. But then you have to be at two places at the same time. because you also have to let the cleaners in, oversee the result, and liaise with the letting agency.

Recycled pic from 2009

And how would you get the keys of the new place? I intend to go up there,decide on a place, and pay the deposit. But would I already get the keys? Quite likely I won't. Will they be willing to send them to me by mail? I hope so! Otherwise it'll get worse: I'll have to be at no fewer than three different places at the same time: my old apartment, my new apartment, and the new letting agency. A bit of a challenge! But I can't imagine I'm the only one who is faced by this issue of one person moving house, and the removal company driving it all up in one go. So I trust I'll find a way!

Caving club's 50th anniversary

The club is 50, but many of the members aren't! The celebrations of the weekend started with a curry night in Buckfastleigh. I didn't attend; Roland had his official goodbye do at university. That ended rather late. The next day Hugh and I were available, but a clear plan of what would happen wasn't available. There was talk of going to Great Rock that afternoon; it was nearing 2PM when we reached the Pengelly centre. There we noticed not that much was happening; there was only a small delegation from the club, and many of them were hungover. The younger members had tried Buckfastleigh's nightlife in full. And then they had visited Reed's. That's more than I can do after a night of boozing like that. So enthusiasm for a Great Rock trip was mild...

After quite some faffing and cake we did get our act together anyway. Great Rock it would indeed be! Dave would stay behind; there was one of the founding members present; a chap by the name of John, and they had a lot to discuss. And the 50 years of the existence of the club, as well as all the years he had already lived pre-club, had taken their toll on John, and he wasn't up for frolicking through mines anymore. So it was a 7 person sub-group that went. When we were walking up the sunny hillside to the entrance we figured we only had an hour. We had to be back in time for the anniversary dinner! But an hour is enough to see some nice stuff. We went into heaven and hell; heaven I had only visited during a rescue training. This time I had time to look around a bit, and take some pictures.

Outside heaven there was an improvised swing. It was attached quite high on a branch, and you could climb on quite high on the steep slope. So you could swing really high! We had quite some fun there! But after we'd all had our way we decided we had time for hell too. I had visited it several times before, but it's quite extensive (as one might expect!) so it was still fun. And then we had to get back.

Hugh enjoys the swing

Back at the Pengelly centre (for cave studies), where we had our base for the weekend, we showered, changed, hung around a bit, ate anniversary cake, and finally decided to make our way to the pub where we would have our meal. We there met Hugh and Trish; the only original members I have been underground with many times. They are still going strong! Hugh is 70, and Trish hardly younger, but the way they prusik up a mineshaft puts many youngsters to shame. There was another founding member there: Les. He had brought some paraphernalia: an old helmet with carbide lamp, and some framed pictures, from days of old. Very nice!

Birthday cake for the club!

Alex shows the old helmet with carbide lamp

We had dinner. The starters went down well. After the starters John held a speech. He saw many young faces, and told us tales of the times when the ropes were made of hemp, and the boots of leather. He had not only been among those founding the club, but also the one who had introduced our late former president to caving. And that late president had been the one introducing Dave to it. The links with the past still exist!

Founding member John gives a speech

When the mains arrived it became clear not all could finish their food. Laura and I couldn't conquer our rather filling risotto. After the mains Les gave another speech,with more stories of the times when wetsuits were home-made and the lamps would go out. And then the desserts came out.

The pub specialised in massive cheesecake. Not even Dave could finish his! Alex had a portion too. And he would't give up. It took him forever, but in the end he polished it off, thereby disconcertingly beating Dave. Eerie! He would still suffer for it the next day. But we were all tired, and keen to get back to the Pengelly centre, to watch a caving slideshow.

Dave showed us pictures from all sorts of trips the club had had through time. He has quite some material; he was still going at midnight. But I had been in bed too late the evening before as well, and I sneaked away. Bedtime!

The next morning Hugh and I woke up at 7, as it was a sunny day and the room had no curtains. We got up. A morning of much hanging around would follow; many of the younger members must have chosen a room with curtains. And some had reason to have a lie-in: two of them turned out to have decided, in the middle of the night, that they felt like a caving trip, and had crawled around in Baker's for hours. And these two had also had a wild night the day before!

We were wondering where to go. Someone mentioned a cave on the terrain of the centre's neigbour. We walked a bit in that direction. Our president then decided to go and ask if we could go there. He climbed over a wall to get onto the path. He looked a bit wobbly, so I approached to offer him a hand, but when I saw all the rocks in the wall move I made sure I got out of there. Which was wise; he managed to dislodge a large rock. And then Dave followed: he managed to break a beam, dislodge many more rocks, and split his trousers. Dear!

Getting ready for the last trip of the weekend

We changed, and got onto the neighbour's terrain. We found one hole that was big enough to crawl into. It only went a few metres, but it was nice. All the other holes on this terrain were hardly more than a meter deep. Oh well! We were all tired. So we went back, changed, ate birthday cake (it was Laura's birthday!), and then cleaned the building. It had been enough for the weekend! Little caving for a caving anniversary, but we will have a more serious trip later this year. I hope I'll be able to attend! although my life will have radically changed by then...

Looking for holes

Richard is happy in a hole in the floor of the small cave

Laura joins us