I. C. Conolley - Caving Notes

Jamaican Caving Notes

June 20, 2002

PETERKIN and ROTA CAVES, MAROON TOWN, JAMAICA

FIELD NOTES: I. C. CONOLLEY

Cavers: I. C. Conolley, M. Taylor, R. S. Stewart

Maroon Town was a long five-mile journey along the fringes of the Cockpit and in an area riddled with caves and sinkholes. Minocal of Quick Step had said, though not in relation to Maroon Town, “If you plan to dig the earth in this area you had best harness up and secure yourself for you may sink your fork and open up a sink hole into which you will fall.” That could apply to Maroon Town.

The cave names are mostly documented and mapped for all interested to see in Jamaica Underground. We were on the cave hunt again this time simply looking for already mapped caves. We were seeking Peterkin.
The mapping indicated two entrances, or best we say openings, as, God willing, we will also exit. After getting into the general vicinity we started asking questions. A young man, only after appearing very dumb on the matter of such a cave, relented and took us behind his house, way behind his house through a pasture and showed us the opening in the rock. He, throughout our brief journey, however, incessantly and ad nauseam went on and on about the flood danger. The water will just come down suddenly. How come we asked? It would rain somewhere further up in the hills and even when it may not be raining here the water swells up and floods the whole pasture and this whole area is under water. We nodded. You know the “sure, sure” nod. We looked around and the pasture was not by any means small and there were cows grazing. Who would put their cows in a pasture that would flood without warning? Anyway we did look across in the direction of the supposed flood course. There was no sign of water and the sky was clear - blue with only a few clouds and not dark rain clouds either. He waited with us as we investigated the mouth of the cave. We had our ropes, everything, ready for exploration. But Stefan wanted to see the other side, the other opening, supposedly on the other side of the road. The young man insisted there was no such opening nearby but suggested one much further away. Stefan was not satisfied. The maps could not be that inaccurate. Nonetheless, after minimum investigation of this site which did evidence water flow, perhaps heavy water flow too, and a narrowing, and some indication that it might have continued under the road... and guess what? Flashes of lightning, blasts of thunder and torrential rain started. We proceeded back to the cross roads to get some more information. A shop was there and there was no better place; we had shelter.

We sat just outside the shop, on the piazza under the roof overhang ate and drank and chatted. Some young people across the road kept yelling at us to come over there. Now, think about it. They are in the safety of a dry room. We are already subjected to periodic whisks of rain blowing under the roof and we must give up the albeit tenuous shelter to walk into the storm to hear what they have to say, and we don’t even know them and they, for that matter, don’t even know us. I shout to them indicating their insanity. Don’t you see the rain is falling? They remain undaunted until the wind shifts and the window through which they were shouting becomes inundated with the flashing rain. They dodge in and slam it shut. Well, so much for them. We continued our quiet reverie waiting for the rain to give us a break. The rain had barely shifted into a less torrential pour when one of the young men flashed over to us. Did we want to go caving? He took tourists to caves all the time. He knew all the caves in the area and he could take us. Stefan was used to this and proceeded to ask him about the cave in question. He got the same answer the other young man had given but now with language that would entice any caver to drop all he had and follow him. Well since Stef was not “any caver” he continued to insist about the cave he wanted to find. There was absolutely no luck here. The young man knew a good cave but that seemed to be the end of that, and after possibly being mildly shaken that perhaps this white man knew what he was talking about left us with the promise that if we needed him he was available.

We decided to return to our earlier location but this time to concentrate our investigations on the other side of the road where the other opening should be. If we saw no one we would brave it and proceed to walk until we did, or until we found the cave. We had the compass points. And Stef continued to feel that even given a margin of error of ten metres or so, the cave was supposed to be only about a few hundred metres from the road. It had to be nearby. We drove back down to our original location, parked, took out gear then started the walk down the road. As we proceeded, we looked to our left at the pasture we had just left, the one with the quietly grazing cows. The cows were on high ground and the pasture was absolutely flooded. Where we had walked, it is likely that water would have been above our heads. It took a moment of open-mouthed amazement to accept the reality and at this moment no one dared voice, suppose we were down there still and also in the cave. We could only continue to mouth as if in a mantra, the young man was right. The rain had stopped and there was this mass of brown water settled, unmoving, comfortable, at home on this previously verdant and undulating pasture. We moved on but with the picture of this frightening sight imprinted on our minds. We took a track on the right. We were going uphill. We could feel the eyes of people in vehicles passing. These three men, yes it was Stefan, Malibu, and Ivor, with hard hats and lamps, flashlights and rope, knapsacks. What were they up to? We are going to work, coming from work, going shopping, coming from shopping, visiting, just taking care of our affairs and they ... they are not farmers. Well, they must be tourists. Only tourists look as weird as this. Yea, yea, they must be going into a cave. They must be don’t hear the story about the man that drown in the cave the other day and they go find him body over a week after. Me nah go inna dem dey cave.

We had not traveled twenty meters when we came upon an elderly man. We asked him about the cave. Yes he knew it. It was on his land but further back. His son would show us but was in the field. Yes we could find him. Just follow the track. And so we moved on, satisfied that finally success was ahead. Liebert, the son, might have heard us talking for not sooner had we left his old man, moving down the trail than there he was with evidence of his trade. He was annoyed at seeing us and showed it. We did not allow him to finish saying, what are you doing here, and quickly blurted out, “We’re looking for you.” Well, those were the magic words and he lowered his guard. Yes, there was a cave and yes he would take us there for a fee. The fee was high and there was a charge for each of us and he said we had all the big money that the company had provided for us to come on this expedition and we could pay. Well, Stef is a frightening and fearless negotiator. The man did have a machete and it was his land. Anyway, Stef got him down to something he could afford to pay, (200 J$), and we were moving with a man who knew the way. We were later to discover.... much later, like three months later on another trip ... that the man had taken us on the scenic route and to a cave, albeit a very worthwhile one, but still not the one we were looking for.

Such was our bewilderment that I believe we began to doubt the map. We still did not find the charted cave. To get to this cave we passed a sink hole, not mapped and Stef decided to check it out on a next trip. But on we went to the cave. It was huge. On the floor amidst huge boulders and stones was water gurgling and churning as it rose in one section and disappeared in another. This was enough to remind us of what was observed on the other side of the road. Here was where that water was coming, slowly but surely. This would not be the day to traverse this cave attractive though it was. We spent some time walking around looking for evidence of bats. Not a lot. Other life? This was the rainy period, June. We had just been through some flood rains and possibly invertebrate life could have been flushed out. It was not the best time to check out life in the cave.

There was another cave to check out in the area before we left. This one was behind a school. Once we found the right school finding the cave was easy. The caretaker pointed us in the general direction and there it was in the bushes surrounded by the school garbage of juice boxes, plastic bags and a miscellany of assorted garbage compliments of the school children whom the groundslady later annoyingly indicated won’t use the garbage containers provided. Were there cockroaches in this cave Stef? The approach was not massive but comfortably accessible. As we descended the rocks we came upon some rather slippery mud and a slanting and lowering cave roof that made getting dirty inescapable. The features were not outstanding and the cave was not enlarging. We eventually decided to retire for the day and return home.

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