Frantic messaging too and fro for once resulted in a plan. The date was set and the bell rung for Round 2.
In the red corner, M.Fawcett (Leeds)
In the blue corner, A-Mole Hole (Kingdsale)
I eagerly took the opportunity to be in Michelle's corner, the red team consisted of Michelle, Shezi and I. Meeting up in a rainy Leeds on the Uni campus I was stunned by the number of fit, young, brainy people, sticking dead leaves in their mouth and setting fire to them, I was stood out of the rain which unfortunately coupled me with the posse of puffers before Team Boss Michelle arrived to give me an excuse to dash down the steps of the rather special
Parkinson Building
into the team wagon.
We set off in the afternoon traffic of damp coatless school kids and speed demon bus drivers, and it felt like we were making slow progress as the minutes ticked away. I'd booked two singles on the train as it was £5 cheaper, always a risky action plan but it's only Aquamole.
A cheery drive of caving tales saw us to Settle and following the diversions for the Tour De Yorkshire we were at the school house to pack rope. My thinking it was a quick trip soon evaporated as the rope bags filled up, lots of rope was going in the bags! I'd brought as many krabs as I had to try and speed up proceedings and soon we were off to Kingsdale and trooping up the hill and making good time. The hills were covered with frozen snow, it made for cold toes yet boiling heads as wrapped up in balaclavas and many layers I was slowly cooking myself trying to keep up with the pace set by Shezi.
The top of the hill was a windy place, the trees of Jingling led us to Aquamole and Shezi started rigging down the man made entry tube which is rather ugly in such a beautiful place. Michelle set off into the Earth and I stayed huddled out of the wind nearby, I was wearing gloves which are far more fingerless than when I bought them and the tips of a few of my digits were a deepish red and complaining about the cold.
The entrance series of Aquamole; the no doubt aptly named Rabbits Graveyard, is a little snug in places with bolts everywhere you look. A certain famous cave diver is working down there and leaves a rope for most of the pitches but we were happy to rig our own, practice makes perfect. Shezi was down as far as the 4th or 5th rebelay, which should have seen us off the rope at the bottom, but in a moment of deja vu for my two team mates, the rope was short on the pitch. Rather than battle with the knot pass once again, we moved the first rope/second rope join from one bolt to the next which gave enough slack, once fed through the knots lower down, to just reach the floor, the information sticker on the end of the rope was brushing the floor once I was off on the bottom.
We were really pushing things now, 2 and a half hours till my train was setting off from Leeds, we might as well crack on, no way I'll make that but after making hard work of the crawl section between the first and 2nd pitch, I was trying hard not to touch the water, knowing we'd get a drenching on the bottom pitch and also probably a freezing on the way down the hill, soaking wet in an icy wind, my interest started to wane and I turned back. I travelled probably 20 metres before Michelle caught me up, fantastic at crawling I certainly am not.
Many rebelays on the way back made for slow progress, and I tried to make things harder for Michelle by inanely chattering at her each time she arrived at a rebelay, I was there for moral support and should a word of advice be needed, but it wasn't, Michelle made light work of the significant ropework and made me feel a little foolish for underestimating her caving standard.
I arrived back at the man made chute and set off instantly wishing that I hadn't. The whistling draught was icy indeed, I jammed my rope bag across the chute above me to try and deflect the wind around my neck. There was no point in getting out too soon, with 3 of us on the trip, there would be a fair while between me exiting the pitch head and Shezi derigging it, but being inherently lazy, I decided not to back pruissik a few metres to get out the draught and just be patient, Michelle was close behind me, so it wouldn't be too long. Although it was very cold above ground the wind had dropped and once out we said a brief hello to the cavers who were coming out of Jingling Pot; 2 groups down Jingling, one down Bull Pot and us down Aquamole! Thursday night is the new Saturday it would seem.
Despite not reaching the bottom of Aquamole Aven, no exhausting midrope shenanigans made for a successful trip, so it's:
M.Fawcett 1 - A.Mole Hole 1
,
Decider TBC