Spelunking

It rained the night before. The morning is cold and damp. Not the best weather for spelunking but I hope the weather at the cave will be better. It isn’t. “I don’t think we should go in,” I tell Mike, the leader. “It’s too cold and wet.”

He dismisses my worries, buoyed by the group’s obvious enthusiasm. “I think it will be fine, but if you’re afraid to go, you can sit in the truck and wait for us.” His obvious disdain feels like a challenge. I agree to go. We buddy up

The hike to the cave is mostly on slippery wet stones and muddy earth. Each step feels like a dare: continue or go back? I want to stop. I want to go. I keep going.

At the mouth of the cave there are what look like three entrances. The leader suggests we enter the middle one, which is higher than the two on either side. I volunteer to be sweep, no surprise to anyone. (A sweep is always the last person in the group. If someone needs to stop, the sweep stops and waits for the person to start moving.)

We start in. The cold, damp air feels thick. Water drips from above. I get out my rain jacket and put the hood up. It’s harder to walk upright. Jack, my buddy, who’s in front of me, stops, takes my hand and asks. “How are you doing?” I never have a chance to answer. 

Loud crashing sounds. Rocks falling. Screams. I put my hands over my head to protect myself. Rocks blocking the way in and out. Silence. Fear blocking my vision and hearing. 

I can’t see Jack but holding his hand calms me. “Can you push your way out?” he asks.

All I can see is a pile of rocks but they don’t look solid. “I’ll try. Can you see the others?” 

“No,” he says. “They were going fast and I decided to stay close to you.”

“I’ll try to get you out,” I tell him.

“No. I’m okay for a while. I can move a little. I don’t know about the others. The keys for Mike’s truck are under the front passenger seat. If you can get out, go to the ranger station and ask for a rescue team.”

Remembering the advice we’ve been given: in a crisis, remember to breathe. I breathe. Then, carefully. I push the top and heaviest stones down and to the side until I have a small opening but it’s big enough to push my backpack through the hole, then squeeze my body through, scraping my cheek as I move. Wiping away the blood with my bandana, I slowly make my way through the tunnel, creating a kind of path as I push aside fallen stones.

Being able to stand up is a relief. Being able to reach the mouth of the cave fills me with gratitude. Shivering from cold and wet and fright, I run in heavily falling rain to Mike’s truck, find the keys, and drive as quickly as I can, toward what I hope is the ranger station. 
As I’m trying to figure out where to go, I see a couple trudging through the rain and offer them a lift. I ask if they know where the ranger station is. “Our car is parked there,” says the woman, I’ll tell you where to go.” She asks about the cut on my face, which is still bleeding. I tell her about the cave-in. She has a thermos of hot tea and offers me a cup. When we get to the ranger station she offers to treat the cut. I thank her but first I need to tell the ranger about the cave-in.

The ranger asks a slew of questions: how many people, where we entered, what I can tell her about the cave-in, then puts out the call for rescue. She says she’ll follow my truck, that Search and Rescue will meet us at the cave. 

At the entrance to the cave, I show them where we started and describe the route and conditions as best I can. No way can I go back in. I sit in the truck, praying for their safety, for their rescue. 

Jack is the first person out. Relieved he’s safe, I give him a big hug. He’s pretty badly bruised but otherwise okay. We sit in the truck, waiting to hear about the fate of the six still trapped in the cave. Jack reminds me we need to eat and drink. We wait. Wait. Wait.

The rain stops. I hope this is a good sign. The sun comes out. I hope this is a good omen.

Eventually Search and Rescue find and rescue the six people in the cave. Ambulances take then to the hospital to be checked. Jack and I follow in the truck.

A day filled with fear ends well.


How do you respond during a crisis?