Another Rick exploration

We weren't exploring Rick! But with a small group of mine explorers we seem to have acquired a new habit: go to places that Rick has had on his wish list for a while, and check them out. (We did that here and here.) And this trip was one in that sequence.

This time the venue of choice was a bit remote; we walked quite a way along the Tamar, and then clambered into a small valley draining into it. And sure enough, above the stream was a very conspicuous, rectangular hole. That would be the one! We even found a bolt hole. Only one. I put a bolt in, and then Rick asked "you have a spanner, don't you?" and I didn't. I used to have a spanner standard in my SRT kit, but it had vanished. And a previous trip, Dave had realised he hadn't brought one when he was picking me up, so I had run back in to get one. But that one wasn't meant for caving purposes. So I hadn't brought it this time! And nobody had asked me to bring anything. There was slight panic. Luckily one can use maillons as improvised spanners. And even better: Finbar, who had been lagging behind, turned out to have a real one with him! That was a bit of a relief. But to be sure we drilled an extra hole. Then Lionel rigged it, and down he was.

 

The entrance

 What we saw from the ridge from which we rigged it

I was the last to come down. I heard Lionel mention water down there. Water! My favourite.

When I was down myself I saw the place wasn't big. It was a stope with collapses on both sides. And a flooded winze some two metres to the side. By the time I had explored the stope, Lionel had figured out a way to look what's on the other side of the winze without getting wet. You tie into the rope, and then wedge yourself in the passage that leads to the winze; high up it was narrow enough for that, and you could just see around the corner. It didn't go far. But I still didn't think it was satisfying to only see it from such a distance. So I ask if the men minded if I had a look anyway; I would just clamber around the corner, hanging from the rope. As you needed enough slack on the rope to make it across it meant it was so slack you would get wet up to the underwear, but hey, what's a little dampness among friends. And it worked.

A composite picture of the winze. I made it a bit less clear by plunging in...

 

Rick and Finbar lounge while Lionel tries a way to look beyond the winze

A composite picture of the pristine planking at the side of the winze

When Lionel saw me depart he couldn't stay behind. He tarzanned across a bit more energetically, so he hardly got wet. And then Rick wanted to try it too. As there wasn't much to hold on to once you landed on the far side of the winze, it worked best if someone caught you; that's how I pulled Lionel in, and he returned the favour to Rick. The level of intimacy this move involved was a bit high by Rick's standards, but once he saw the pretty little level he figured it had been worth it. And after we'd all seen what there was to see, we came back. This way the trick was to wedge yourself as far as possible into the winze, hold on to the rope as high as possible, and them swing to the other side. We all made it without touching the water! And then we went out.

 Rick wedged above the water, ready to swing over

And swinging!

We were still in time for the pub. When I walked in I was greeted by a charming border collie. And that wasn't all; soon a very handsome cat appeared too! He was up for some petting and some playing! Another spiffing night out!

 The handsome cat in the pub

Music

One can get bored of almost 3000 songs. Isn’t it decadent? I have a song collection in my iTunes that by my standards is quite big. It’s nine days’ worth of music!  But I got bored of it. And then several things happened. 

The first was: I bought a digital radio. This allows me to listen to the radio while driving, listen to the radio in the lab, and listen to the radio in my office without using any memory power of my computer. And I could listen to BBC 6Music. At home I can’t; you need internet or DAB to get it, and my humble cable radio doesn’t have such modernities.  So I suddenly heard all sorts of new music! Some by bands I knew, but of whom I didn’t know that they had something new and good out, and some I didn’t know at all. 

Then I went on a hike in Norway, and after that hike I ended up playing a game with one of the participants: we in turn come up with a word or theme, and then we both try to think of as many songs as we can that have that word or theme in the title. And if he comes up with a song I don’t know I look it up on YouTube. I learn many things!

And while on YouTube I saw a playlist advertised: the 100 best covers ever. I find covers intriguing; many are saltless remakes by people who don’t have the talent to write their own songs, but among that malarkey hide a few gems. I personally, for instance, like what Creedence Clearwater Revival did to “Heard it through the grapevine”. And what 16 Horsepower in turn did to “bad moon rising”. I also like “gimme shelter” in the Sisters of Mercy version, and “Jackie” done by Placebo. And “Jolene” by the White stripes! And that last example also featured in that YouTube list. Much of the list I ignored, since I didn’t know or like the original song, but I did find some surprises. I liked “smooth criminal” performed on two cellos, and I liked Richard Thompson doing “oops I did it again”. And I liked “imagine” done by a perfect circle. 

And then what’s probably my oldest source of music inspiration kicked in to higher gear as well: my eldest sister started handing out tips. She is the person that introduced me to Tom Petty, to give an example. My guess is that that was in 1985. A lot has changed but not an older sibling’s influence on one’s music taste!

So what have I learned? I have listened to Ben Folds Five, Edwyn Collins, Bamboos, Ben Howard, the Beatles, Kate Bush, Frank Zappa, Laura Mvula, the Byrds, Depeche Mode, Suede, Stereophonics, and much more. And I ended up owning Blaudzun (that was a present!), James Blake, more Perfect Circle, and Bobby Womack. Not bad! 

Blaudzun

Lockeridge

It almost didn't happen! We were getting kitted at the side of a road, when a tractor drove past. It turned out to contain the farmer who owned the land that the mine entrance we we heading for was on. We thought the copse it was in belonged to the woodlands, not the fields! For rummaging around in the woodlands we did have permission. But the farmer didn't see harm in some eccentrics vanishing into a small hole on his land. And why would he? So it was a go!

 

 Who would have thought such an unassuming hole would hide such spectacular views?

 We walked down a path to a promising sign. It said "danger! Keep out." That attracts us like flies. I was the only one who had walked up in SRT kit, so I also was the lucky one to go down first. I thought the little rat hole would lead straight down, but it didn't; it gave access to a small narrow tunnel, at the end of which you looked down into a gaping abyss. It must have been explored before; I saw two bolt holes above the drop. Good! Unfortunately there was some wood and some garbage down there too. I threw the wood down, which resulted in monumental clamour, and I handed the deckchair skeleton back to the surface. It was crammed enough down there without it! Lionel handed me two bolts, and before I knew it I was bolting and rigging the pitch. It wasn't very comfortable; I could hardly turn around, and I was rigging the rope while still dangling from it. When I was done it became clear I had underestimated how much rope I took up myself; when I took myself out of the rope I saw it was all rather tight. But as that isn't too relevant I went down anyway. Slowly; this was, for us, uncharted territory! It was a special place: it was a very narrow stope. While I was abseiling I kept my knees on the wall; normally you would use your feet, but there was no space for that. In places I just had to slide down vertically. But laterally it stretched very far! And it was deep too; about 20m. And you could see it had reached the surface, but had been arched over, probably after closure of the mine. A very special place!

 

Lionel and me on the bottom of the stope

I saw some surface below me, and initially aimed for it; when I came closer, though, I saw it was a false floor, so I passed it by and went all the way to the bottom. There I got myself out of the rope, and hid underneath the false floor, as the men above me were throwing some more things down to clear out the entrance a bit. Even a small stone hurts when it hits you after falling 20m!

 Finbar comes down the narrow stope

Soon Lionel was down too. And then Rick. While Lionel and I were having a look to see how far the place extended, we could hear Rick exclaim "I really enjoy this place!" and utterings of similar nature. We saw that at the south end there was a collapse. And we found lovely green rock! I put a few pieces in my bag. It would later turn out to probably be fluorspar. And when we turned back, we saw the a collapse on the north end too. So not much to explore down there, but opportunity to be amazed at this paper-thin slit in the Earth. Dave got out his camera and flash guns; that was my cue to not even attempt to take pictures myself. I would rely on long exposure times; that doesn't go together well with flash photography. Rick remarked "I REALLY enjoy this place!" While Dave was flashing away Finbar came down, and while dangling midway, suddenly remarked he had lost one of the lenses of his glasses. Now he understood why the world looked so strange! An inconvenient place to lose a lens... But he was lucky; Lionel managed to find it. I didn't wait to see what the damage had been. falling 10 m onto rock isn't the best for glass!

Me going up again

When Finbar was down, I decided that as I had been the first one down, I would also be the first one up. Other than taking pictures there wasn't that much to do! Except proclaiming how much one REALLY enjoyed the place. And it would take the five of us quite a while to get out anyway. I brought up a rope bag as the rope rubbed a bit. That is one of those things you have to take seriously. Rubbing rope kills! So when I was up I installed the rope bag as a rope protector, and then invited the men up. When Lionel was up too we had a little stroll to see if there was more left of this mine. And then we went back to see how the men were doing. Rick came out, telling us that he REALLY had enjoyed that. Waiting turned out to be a cold activity (or rather passivity); it was a clear night, so it was getting chilly! Even though Rick was happy: he REALLY had enjoyed that! I was glad to get into my cry kit and rush to the pub (where Rick would tell us he had REALLY enjoyed that) before it would close. Well, I actually enjoyed that too! A new place, and me rigging it as well! Not bad!

ps Dave's memory card was faulty! So the image above is the only underground picture of the place...
pps He managed to recover the pictures after all!

Local ghost

When I go running I start out running past an impressive wall, which, I think, used to guard a hospital. It's quite a wall. But one day I suddenly saw something strange about it. Two white footsteps, of bare feet, seemingly coming out of it. Strange! There was no source of white paint to be seen anywhere. And who would walk around there bare feet? Well, English ladies might very well roam the streets unshod at night, when their heels have become too painful, but you would expect them to walk parallel to the wall, not out of it. And I never heard of them spontanously oozing white paint from their feet.

I think the most reasonable explanation for this phenomenon is that a ghost walked through that wall and made these footsteps. Maybe someone who died at the infirmary behind the wall, who had heard of the scandalous events taking place at Mid Staffordshire hospital, and wanted to protest against this injustice. The white paint would make sure the protest would not go unnoticed. I trust ghosts can conjure up substances like that at will.

So that mystery is solved. If only it was as easy as solving the problems that haunt the NHS!

South Tamar

This week would have two caving trips in a row. That's a lot! It tends to make one tired. But the first trip would be a visit to a mine I hadn't visited before, and looked like a rather short trip, and the second was yet another unknown one, and looked interesting. Ropework! So I decided to just do both. I don't have much time left in the southwest! I'd better make the most of it. So the first venue would be South Tamar. And it looked attractive: the route to it was short and scenic, and the entrance was along the way we walked with the CORiF lab. I didn't mind at all enjoying a sunset on the banks of the Tamar on a sunny day! And Hugh thought the same.

The sunset didn't disappoint. What did disappoint was my own presence of mind; I realised I had forgotten my caving long johns. Again! Oh well. The previous time I got away with wearing my trousers, which had gotten soaking wet underground, to the pub, without anyone noticing. I wear quick dry trousers to such occasions for a reason! So I just got into my kit and followed Bernard to where the mine adit drained into the Tamar. It was a crawling job, and it was rather wet, but the timbering was nice. After about 15m we reached the shallow shaft that the others used for access. And then we went onwards! 

Sunset over the Tamar

Getting changed

Alex has fun in the adit

The rest of the mine (the part that was accessible, at least) consisted of one, long, narrow, winding tunnel with water between toe-deep to hip-deep, which ended in a very narrow flooded stope, and one side tunnel which ended in a collapse after some 20m (note that estimating distances is not my forte). Small and wet, but nice! The water was fast-flowing and very clear, until we came to muck it all up. And after we'd all seen that we went back, and this time I chose the shaft instead of the adit. It wasn't rigged with a rope, but with an electron ladder (a rope ladder but then made of metal). As long as they are no more than, say, 15 m long, I like electron ladders ! By 9 we were out. Time to rinse some mud off in the river, try in vain to steam my trousers a bit dryer, and then retreat to the pub!

 

Paul serves as a scale bar for some rather cute mini-timbering

 

The side tunnel, with Hugh at the end

 

It was rather foggy down there!

 

Beautiful metallic flowstone

 

When we came out, the evening sky was still beautiful!

This time we had chosen the pub in Buckland Monachorum. A very cute old pub! Unfortunately, it was already quite crowded, so we retreated to a little room. It wasn't really meant for the likes of us. There was quite some banging of heads on the low ceiling, and crawling underneath the table in order to get in or out going on. We're too tall and too fat! But it was nice. Even Dave and Dave, who had skipped the trip, came to the pub! And Dave had brought his dog. And when we left we found a flirtatious cat outside. And in spite of me having to drive home in still very damp trousers and soaking socks, it had been a nice evening!

Resurrecting the boiler

I could have known it wouldn't last. For years, I had endured the quirks of an elderly boiler, until things got too much for me and I pestered the landlord so hard they replaced it. And it worked! It worked like a dream! And it even had a timer; if I had an idea of what time I'd come home, I would have the timer turn the heating on half an hour in advance. Really nice! But then one day, during the longest bank holiday of the coldest UK March since 1962, I came home, and the heating wasn't on. Didn't want to get on. Oh dear!

I decided to have a look if I could trouble-shoot it. It wasn't immediately clear to me what the problem was. The boiler has a little window where it displays messages, but for some reason, it was installed so high above the ground I have to climb on top of the sink in order to see what it says. But that can be done; I saw it was a water pressure issue. So I brought out the user's manual. And it explained how one re-pressurizes the thing. I was a bit apprehensive; boilers involve hot water, water under pressure, gas, AND electricity - and I hadn't forgotten that my previous boiler seemed to have 240V running through exposed surfaces. So many things that can go wrong!

 

The boiler as I see it - not easy to see the messages on the small blue screen!

 The boiler's underbelly. Notice the diagnostic droplet, indicated by the arrow! I suppose that's the leak.

Much can go wrong, but nothing did! The manual did its work, and I managed to connect the re-pressurizing-loop (or whatever it's called), and hop! The machine came back to life. While faffing with all the pipes and valves in the apparatus' underbelly I also diagnosed the cause: one of the pipes was leaking. That must be the culprit! After Easter I'll phone the landlord again. But for now I'll enjoy my resurrected heating. Nice and snug!

 

The re-pressurizing loop. Never heard of those! But it evidently works...

More decluttering

Very soon I'll have to move house. I don't like moving house! And the more stuff you have, the more unpleasant it is. So my attempts at getting rid of stuff, such as getting rid of old stuff, more old stuff, books, photo albums, and whatnot have been reinvigorated. Freecycle didn't quite do it for me due to its user-unfriendly site, which clogs up your mailbox in no time, so I returned to eBay. I struggle to throw things away that are still functional! And eBay is a good way to find out if there are other people who still have use for what you want to discard. And I am still making beginners' mistakes, so I might for now be actively limiting my chances of getting rid of stuff and of not working at a loss, but hey, one learns. I already sold one book! And I've learned a few things, so it should get better from now on. Who knows! Maybe I manage to reduce my stuff considerably before I ask a removal company to take care of it all...