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Jamaican Caving Notes |
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HUTCHINSON'S HOLE Feb 1, 2004 Field notes: I. C. CONOLLEY Cavers: I. C. Conolley, R. S. Stewart, M. Bellinger, D. Williams JCO Press Release for Hutchinsons (Continued from Bertie Sinkhole) Back in the main part of the town of Aboukir we called ahead to Miss Mac to alert her to our likely late arrival. The cellular phone connection was poor but it nonetheless seemed that she did not have a clue who we were and what this was all about. I began to get an uneasy feeling. Going back to Windsor at this hour and to travel back to Bensonton was out of the question I thought. Well lets eat something anyway. Nowhere may be open over there and I figured the worst would be sleeping in the car. We found somewhere to eat. Had a good meal and were off through Nine mile and into the area. By now it was quite late and we were all tired and really were in an area none of us had been before, did not know where we were going and the directions suddenly seemed very inadequate. We finally stopped at a shop in what we though to be the general area. Yes they knew who we were searching for and it was just down the road. Usually I have a good sense of direction but I tell you the road had me fooled. I continued to get the sense that where they told us to go was in the wrong direction. Stefan was comfortable with this and tried to convince me. We tried what they suggested and it seemed futile. Yes we were in the area but where were these people. I don’t know if it was myself or Mark that had the idea to telephone them, let them know where we were and leave it up to them what happens. We linked with Stef in the other car and called. Their son was on the phone. Now the voice on the end of the line was welcoming -okay I thought. At least it is now clear who we are. Yes we were to keep coming down past the Health Clinic. He was on the roadside and would stop us so just keep coming. Trust me we were beat. Stef was ahead now and there we saw ahead what seemed to be a road block. Yes Lord, it was our people. No way could we pass them accidentally. They had us and we had them. We parked and got out to greetings and welcoming words. It was a pleasure getting out of the car and that alone started to revive me; being in the shop and sipping a Red Stripe also helped. A few people were in the shop and wanted to know what was up. ......Hutchinsons Hole. ... Certainly, we were not well people. The Hole has no bottom. That hole goes to the sea. That hole goes 2000 feet down. How much rope did we have. No not enough. We won’t make it. Don’t go down there. You not going to come back up. The fireman went down 520 feet and shone he light and saw no bottom. Stef says to one of the crowd, "Buy me a drink if a reach down". He more than agrees. Another volunteers. He will buy him a drink too. All is hopeful. Stef has the figures from Jamaica Underground. The depth surveyed is 98 meters. But to be on the safe side we join our 340 foot rope with the 198 foot rope to create 538 feet of rope, will rig for ascent as well just in case the hole is deeper than this. So we will tie a knot at the end of the rope so we won’t run off. Stef will be on rope first. Obviously if the rope is too short and he had to come back up the climb is aborted and we possibly come back another time. Stef figures that like Saturday and Thatchfield Great Cave before all three of us, He, Mark and myself will go down. The excitement building at the shop shows however that there will be a crowd. And the worst thing one can have on a descent is an enthusiastic and even "helpful" crowd. We have had problems with that before. I suggested to him that Delroy being new will not alone be able to handle the situation and I will stay on top with he rigging and see to crowd control. He sees the point. I don’t discuss this with Mark. But he later asks me about my decision. He says he would be happy to stay up and see to crowd control. With that burden off and with his experience and Delroy’s common sense I figured we would be good. I tell Stef of this revision and the plans firm up. Besides this we were hoping for some support from a couple of the more senior gentlemen in the area. Sunday morning comes. We start early. The plan is to get going at about nine o’clock. We drink a cup of tea. But guess what. I am forgetting myself. I don’t do very well for the day on simply a cup of tea. But don’t think of it at the time. We are ready to go. We are lead to the hole. It is at the bottom of the valley on our host, Mr Morrison’s land. The trees around the hole have been cut down. This is our number one nightmare. Where will we tie off. Are the stumps dry. Okay. No the stumps are still green. The trees were fairly recently cut. The stumps are still green . They will take the pressure. Stef does his engineering and figures out the angles and the loops and how best to rig the ropes. It takes us over an hour to get it right. But its ready. The crowd is building. The knot is at the end of the rope; the two ropes are joined; Stef is rigged for descent AND ascent. If the rope ends he comes back up. He is over the hole. We are tight on the rope, but more rope should have been taken in and as he eases off he slides and bumps to a stop as the tension kicks in. He is not pleased. He has bumped his knee on the rock. That would hurt. After making a solid point with a well-chosen expletive he proceeds with his descent. We are as much in anticipation as the crowd that has now grown to some 200. They begin to move toward the hole. This was partially what I was fearful of. Too many loose rocks around. People moving around and dislodging the rocks on those below. I start shouting at the crowd at the same time finding a vantage point from which to talk. I speak strongly and let them know they can kill someone down there today by sending rocks into the hole. There is a hush and murmurs of cooperation. I am relieved. The others can take it from here. Then we hear on the walkie-talkie Stef coming in. He has got to the bottom and a prearranged code tells us that he has found the body. It is a moment of mixed feeling. It’s fantastic that he has reached the bottom but we had not seriously thought that a body would have been down there. He is off rope. I am already ready to go. But for comfort I dislodge my ascent gear which I have put on and simply clip it onto my side buckle. And I am over the hole. They are holding me in but I take up the slack on the rope myself so that what happened to Stef will not be repeated with me. I feel the tension and ask them to release me gradually. I have better luck and am off on my descent. It is a long way down. Coming out of the light you cannot see the bottom until you are reasonably close to it.. The other way around is different as I later discovered on ascending. One could see the bottom for a long way up. The bottom was now in good view as I descended but did not see Stef. Then the stench hit me. Yes he was right. There is company here. It was just a white outline in the gravel on the cave floor. My feet touch the cave floor and I call to Stef. He has found a corner of the cave and comes walking to me. We are not going to stay down here long. He has not been able to poke around much. Well lets take some photos and taken up something from the body to show he is here. In the shop the Saturday night the level of scepticism was so great that someone even suggested that we might trick them by saying that we had gone down and had not actually done so. Normally, this would not be an issue... so what if you don’t believe, we know and we do our research in the hole to find invertebrates, check on the hydrology and if any evidence of Taino presence. But it was obvious that this was not just OUR climb. It was the community as well. They had to be satisfied. I looked at the body trying to figure out what to take. In the meantime Stef was taking photographs from different angles. I saw a shoe on a foot but the other shoe was missing. I thought "Good". I can find that somewhere around on the cave floor and take that up. I searched and could not find it. My heart sank. I looked at the body again. But I was somewhat prepared. When Stef gave word that he had company, I got a plastic bag and a piece of stick and stuck them in my pocket. It was now time to use them. I would take the stick and get off the shoe and gingerously put it into the bag without touching it with my bare hands. It was a good plan. I told Stef what I was going to do. By now he had finished taking shots and had moved to the side. I tugged at the shoe. It was not coming off. I tugged harder and the foot came off in the shoe. Okay.... I put it all in the bag. I’ll spare you the details how. But it did take some skill as I did not handle it with my hands. I tied it to my webbing and ready to take it up. Stef came down first, so up he went. The stench was almost unbearable. We had no masks. There the faint scent of the cigarette that Stef was smoking. I left out the minor point that he asked for cigarettes before I came down and Delroy bummed cigarettes from someone in the crowd. I took these down for him. He got up rather quickly and then it was my time. I have never had as hard a climb in my life. Technically all was fine but it was only in retrospect that I realised that it was now late in the day and I had not eaten a proper breakfast. I don’t do well without food, and also in retrospect, I realised I was climbing with a disadvantage. I normally caved and climbed in water boots, McIntoshes. I had not carried them on the weekend and was climbing in sneakers. At Aboukir on Saturday the ankle straps had bruised my ankle and I was determined that I would not have the same thing happen to me today. I tucked my pants into my socks and placed the straps to tighten over the socks but also around the pants legs. That was firm. The pants foot would protect the topside of my ankle from the foot straps. Good idea... even brilliant.. but misdirected. It forced me to work harder when climbing, because the jeans were of tough unstretchable material and I forced it to stretch each time I bent my knees. So I was working against that each time I moved. But this analysis was all hindsight and there I was in the midst of it all climbing up also with the scent of the burden I bore. It was laborious. At about thirty feet from the top is what looks like a large birds nest - a sort of ledge - really a rock lodged between sections of the cave walls. When I got there I stopped to rest. At this point some folks above could see me. I could here their voices giving a running commentary of what I was doing. "Him fixing him hat." Him Resting" "Him Tired". It was comic relief. I perhaps stopped here for about two minutes but it was a good break. I started up again to the comments "Him coming." I made it up tired. And was pulled in by the crew to terra firma. The stench naturally had followed me up, and again I became conscious of the smell as I sat down. I had asked for the police and was told by the crew that they had been summoned and were on their way. I wanted to get rid of the foot. I waited but they came and it seemed not very anxiously relieved me of my burden. I had been sitting there still partially rigged. Now I took off the rest of my gear and helped to de-rig. There could have been more than 300 people there. They had been unaware of the burden I carried up but as soon at it was handed to the police they all realised and crowded to see. I went back to the shop and washed my hands. It was a relief to have got it over with. But now the police wanted information. It was statement time. Oh Bwoy. By now it was night and I headed to Kingston and Stef to The Last Resort. (Continue to more from Hutchinson's Hole on Feb 4/04). |
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