Blevins Gap Cave, Or That Time I Was Stuck Like Winnie-the-Pooh

On February 13th, I found myself in need of a caving fix. I was in the middle of a visit to the middle of nowhere MS, and I chose to drive back to the Rocket City to go caving with friends. I had suggested the trip to Blevins Gap and was, therefore, declared the unofficial trip leader. I had wanted to go for a while, but for reasons I didn't understand at the time, no one wanted to go with me.

Six of us met and went for a short hike to the cave entrance. Blessedly short, as it was below freezing out. Knowing beforehand that it has an entry drop, Brian rigged the rope and we went down into a beautiful, large entrance. I was immediately in awe of the many towering formations around me. We waited on a leaf-strewn slope until everyone made it down because only Brian had been there before. And the next room was as beautiful as the one I dropped into.

I saw the leaves on the edges at about head height, and I've heard cavers say that different piles of leaves and debris are pack rat nests. But I had never actually seen a pack rat until that day, and I definitely wasn't anxious to get close to the critter then. I peered at it as it stared at us. It looked quite a bit less frightening than the picture my imagination had painted. I had envisioned giant, monster rats with feral eyes, flying off of ledges and terrorizing me. But this little guy was content to remain where he was.

Photo by Michelle Edwards.

I was disappointed to learn that the cave is actually not that large, though it is quite beautiful. However, half of its somewhat small footage is down a drop that only the smallest people can squeeze through. When we got to the 17 ft. drop, I stared at the small opening, perhaps underestimating my size. I always think I can squeeze myself into impossible crevices, until the reality of my dimensions fully hits me, usually when I'm stuck--literally--between a rock and a hard place. Because my friend Michelle is slightly smaller, we sent her down the drop first. And I became anxious as I watched her struggle a bit through the entry. Still, I thought, Michelle is not that much smaller than I am. I've got this. 

And this is when things get iffy. I am wedged in the drop. Photo by Michelle Edwards.

I managed to wiggle my hips enough to make it through the tiny spot. I rappelled down the slick bell, landing safely. This exclusive room was more beautiful than the one before. We'd heard rumors of a calcified bottle somewhere on this level, and as it was only about 150 ft. to explore, we went in search of it.

Calcified bottle on an island. Photo by Michelle Edwards.

We ventured to our left, climbing over a stone to view a gorgeous pool with tiny islands, one of which had the sought-after bottle. We didn't want to touch the water and muddy the pool or disturb anything. So, we stood on the far bank, enjoying the wall of formations and watery vista. After Michelle finally snapped a photo that she was satisfied with, we explored the rest of the room we dropped into, including an awful muddy scramble.

I didn't really see myself squeezing back through the tiny drop unless there was some extraordinary purpose, so I wanted to make sure that I saw everything on this trip. So, we braved the peanut butter mud to see what was at the top of the slope, but, alas, it was only a few soda straws and a tiny spot to sit in. We'd gotten fairly filthy without tremendous reward this time. However, not wanting to muck up our gear, we'd removed it beforehand. So, at least there was that. 

We donned our gear, and Michelle beautifully frogged back up the bell and squeezed through the gap without much issue. I knew how much I had struggled getting into this room though, so I was concerned about getting back out without gravity aiding me this time. When it was my turn, I frogged the distance to the gap without issue, but I quickly had to turn my head sideways and get my shoulders out ahead of me so that they could be useful. I moved my ascenders forward each painstaking inch that I could. My chest cleared the narrow point, but my hips were sticking. Michelle, in her rock climbing harness, had a bit more flexibility and had been able to get her legs higher to help. My legs were more constricted in the caving harness I usually adore. Three of the cavers up top were also rescue team members and were already prepared for the fools who only thought they were skinny. They had a haul rigged in this eventuality. And I opted for the easy way out instead of flailing for long. They hooked me up and yanked on me, but I was wedged and eventually had them stop. I kept thinking about the Winnie-the-Pooh quote. I felt like a "Wedged Bear in Great Tightness". I wiggled my hips some more and looked behind me to see that it was the width of my harness strap trapping me. 

Because catching me stuck is unusual enough that someone had to snap a picture. Thanks, Michelle.

But after my dear friend snapped that picture, she yanked on my harness, and I was free!

The face of someone who's thrilled to be unstuck. Again, Michelle is snapping pictures.

Not long after that, we'd all climbed out into the darkness and made our way back to our vehicles.

Me, Crabb, and Jeff after our adventure. My face is numb. It's freezing... Michelle is taking pictures.

Feeling rejuvenated after checking another cave off of my mental list, I only had two concerns upon leaving--warmth and whether I could talk my health nut friends into comforting pizza. For the record, I did.