Let’s go for it

As I shimmied down the dead tree…trying not to fall off either side into a ten-foot gully…the leader yelled back over his shoulder. “Oh. I forgot to mention. There’s a beehive under the tree down where I am. Try not to get stung.”

There were people behind me and ahead of me. I had no choice but to continue on. 

Great.

One Saturday morning at Florida, I was just waking up in my dorm when the phone rang. It was my best friend, Kip.

“Hey, dirtbag,” he said in excitement. “Whaddya doing today?”

“Nothing,” I said. “Just a load of laundry and homework.” 

“C’mon with me,” he said. “I’m going spelunking. You know…CAVE exploring! They’re leaving in 15 minutes. Meet me in the parking lot.” He hung up.

I pondered it for 10 seconds before throwing on some clothes and running for the stairs.

An hour later, we and about 20 other kids stood in a semicircle listening to a geology professor describe the cave we were going to be exploring. Northern Florida is mostly limestone and there are springs and caves everywhere.

“We’re gonna see a lot today,” he said, rubbing his hands. “Stalactites, stalagmites, subterranean pools, streams, probably some bats.” A few kids looked uneasily at each other.

He nodded at a pile of equipment. “Everybody grab a helmet and a pair of gloves. Make sure your light is working. Then follow me.” 

The entrance to the cave was about 25 feet below grade, at the end of a deep descending gully. A pine tree had fallen into the gulley and the only way down was to straddle the tree and gingerly shimmy down.

I’m allergic to wasps. Wasn’t sure about bees, but as I gingerly slid over the hive and heard the ominous humming, I hoped I didn’t find out. Bark showered down on either side as I shimmied.

Finally we all stood in front of the entrance. We switched on the lights attached to our mining helmets and stepped into the cave.

It was at least 25 degrees cooler and damp. It smelled like dirt and the chamber we were in was very high; our helmet lights barely illuminated it. We gathered around the professor as he pointed things out.

Apparently, he’d been in the cave before because it wasn’t just one cave, it was a system of caves linked together by winding passageways. Some were larger, others smaller, and each had unique features. I gave up trying to figure out where we were and how to get back because of the many forks we had encountered.

As we gradually descended, the air got even cooler; our breaths made steamy clouds in the lights of our helmets. Soon we reached the water table and the dirt floor turned to mud. In some places, water came up to our shins.

We slogged along, looking with interest at the things the professor had said we’d  see. We didn’t see any bats but there was plenty of bat guano. I tried not to think about things I’d read about guano and air-borne viruses.

The passageways gradually narrowed. We had to walk hunched over; then crawl on our hands and knees; and finally wriggle single file on our elbows and knees. Suddenly we stopped.

I’m not claustrophobic, but if I had even the slightest traces of it, it would have been a disaster. I was over a hundred feet underground in a tunnel without enough room to even turn my head. I was laying in mud up to my ribs, elbows touching my sides. I couldn’t go forward; I couldn’t back up. I was enclosed in a tomb that barely gave me room to wriggle.

The word got shouted back that one very large kid had actually gotten stuck. The voices were very muffled and all I could see was dirt, mud, and the shoes of the kid ahead of me. I wondered how they were trying to free the stuck kid. 

I prayed. Please don’t start digging, I don’t want the roof to fall on me.

We laid there for an eternity and I wondered if and when we were going to move again, and if we had enough air. Faces and places came to mind; I hoped I’d see them again. I was just able to reach my light and turned it off to save the battery. But it was even worse in the dark and I turned it back on.

Finally we started moving again, but it was slow going and took us another 15 minutes to reach the next chamber. They had the stuck kid off to one side, trying to calm him down.

I don’t remember much else except that I had decided spelunking was not for me. The minutes went by like hours and I numbly shuffled along, not even listening to the professor. 

I was dully aware we were finally ascending. The floor turned from mud back to dirt and the air began to smell sweeter. We could finally stand upright again and I saw daylight ahead.

We climbed up some rocks and emerged into a field bathed in brilliant Florida  sunshine. I gave a silent prayer of thanks and flopped on my back in the clover. 

Back on campus, we went immediately to the Ratskeller to steady ourselves with a few pitchers. We flopped into chairs and I poured. Other kids stared at us; except for our eyes, we were covered with dried mud and dirt. 

“Well,” I said. “There’s a year or two knocked off my life. So thanks for that.” 

Kip grinned. “It’s all for you, dirtbag,” he said as we clinked classes. “All for you.”

Kip, my best friend…always smiling, never a care in the world.

And now no more.