Not Really a Delight...Unless You Have a Wetsuit.

Doc’s Delight Cave

For the record, I think Doc was a sadist. Or maybe he never visited the cave when it had recently rained. I found very little to delight in.

            I set out to Doc’s Delight with a somewhat large group—eight of us, four of whom were newer cavers. I was optimistic and somewhat anxious to be underground as I hadn’t managed that in a couple of weeks. We were off to an inauspicious start as we had trouble coordinating with a member of our party from the beginning, and I am sure that this miscommunication rested most squarely on my shoulders. But we managed to all meet at the local landowner’s property and park in his field. Geared up and looking equipped for anything with massive packs, we more experienced cavers were more weighed down than the new people. Doc’s Delight was reported to have an entrance drop, and I planned to do it comfortably and safely. So, I brought full vertical gear plus my usual in-case-I-freeze kit.

            Our hike was meandering with comfortable trail at first that quickly turned into applying the Mark method—The cave is straight down there. Who needs switchbacks or trails? So, off we went through the woods, leaves, hidden stones, and briars. I was used to the treacherous landscape and followed without comment, while I saw the newer people look askance at leaving the trail. I hear you, new people. I feel your pain.

            After a mostly downhill hike that had me dreading the return trip, we came to a large entrance with boulders leading down to the promised drop. Everyone scampered down as I geared up to use my frog on the bit of vertical fifty feet from the entrance. But just to make sure that the whole event didn’t go undocumented, the new guy behind me caught my actions on his GoPro. As I went in second from last, I offered sarcasm as we faced a gaping hole in the floor, and Kevin offered to trade spots with me. I could see that he was planning to shove me past the chasm of death if he needed to. I kept looking for the drop, but there was no immediate drop. We went up first, and there were plans to shove me upward if my puny arms failed me. But I had ascenders and a plan. So, I made it to the precipice above, which was actually the top of the drop into the cave. And, boy, was I in top form. Brandi Williams, cave rescuer extraordinaire, dauntless crawler into impossible places, promptly caught her shirt in her rack on a 10-15 ft. rappel. Seriously.

            It was a first for me and harder to deal with than I had thought, but Kevin helped me out of my situation with some thrilling heroics and much joking at my expense. I could have just changed over, but his way was quicker. I didn’t have long before I regretted the full frog system either. There was a bit of crawling that all of my gear wanted to snag at before we came to an open dome area and left the vertical stuff behind.

            We did some climbing down a few boulders and came to another dome area with a roaring waterfall. I am coming to hate that sound. I hear the roar, know there’s water, and can anticipate my shivering. I felt panicked because I had no wetsuit. Mark, whom I trust perhaps to my detriment, told me he didn’t think I would need it. Skinny, cold-natured girl. No wetsuit. I should have thrown up my hands and left there. But I’m no quitter. And there was, after all, my fierce reputation to protect in front of the newbies, who were soldiering on, impervious to the cold.

            Not long after the roaring, there was a rimstone pool full of water that we had to crawl on top of to continue deeper into the cave. Through some acrobatics and with much fierce cursing of Mark’s name, I managed to get through the squeeze with only my waist down soaked. I was determined to not become completely immersed. But I have not yet mastered levitation, so I was chilled as the cold water burned my legs.

            Misery loves company, and I was thrilled to have someone as anxious to avoid the water as I was along. Michelle mimicked my movements, and I followed her strategies at times, both of us straddling pools and skirting ledges to keep dry. But it was to no avail. The rooms of formations drew everyone in, and eight people don’t fit in every beautiful alcove. So, we waited in turns, and my burning cold became number skin. The formations were beautiful, but I wouldn’t go so far as delightful.

            After more watery misery and much chuckling at the glowering expressions etched into my features, my patience was wearing thin. Another rimstone pool, this one complete with a drop down and one foot rushing waterfall to negotiate in a crawl. I had no idea if anyone could stay dry through that. I would have dug in my heels, but Michelle tried to maneuver around the icy hell backwards. The ceiling was just tall enough that she managed to keep her chest, neck, and face out of the water. She began squawking shortly after and trying to kick her foot, nearly going face first into the mess as someone picked on her from the other side.

            After she made it through, I thought, Damn. Michelle made it; I better give this a go. So, down I went, and my anger brought me out of my chilled haze. I could take anyone messing with me, but I didn’t like people messing with my friend. As I came out of the crawl, I looked forward and realized that my ire was irrelevant. The new cavers were straddling a void that looked impossible for me. (I was the shortest person on the trip.) Their legs stretched from wall to wall with rushing rapids below. Starting to shiver and feeling my snarling mental remarks about to become comments everyone else got to hear, I sat down and opened my hot veggie chili thermos. Mulishly, I refused to go on, and Michelle loyally remained with me.

            I thought we endured a hellish bit to get into the cave, but the cave wasn’t done with us. After we made it through the water and reattached our vertical gear, Michelle began to climb. There isn’t much space to wait, and I was nearly under her feet as she began her ascent. As she was just near my face, I heard an angry hissing. I screeched and nearly climbed Michelle as I looked around in panic. Both of us were convinced that a snake lurked somewhere in the tiny space with us. I felt ridiculous when I discovered that I had angered a bat. The bat was fine, and we were fine. I laughed at my own absurdity. When Michelle got off rope, I began my steps upward, and at the tightest point near the entrance, right before I could get back to the ledge and off rope, I came face to face with a large spider.

            There was nothing I could do. The only escape was climbing up and ignoring the monstrous eight-legged beast an inch from my face. So, I did what any girl would do. I screamed and whined about spiders while Michelle, reassured that I wasn’t dying, looked on in amusement. After a roundabout hike employing the aforementioned Mark method up the hillside, Michelle and I drove back into civilization, resolving to spend the rest of the day doing something “civilized” at my insistence.  I could have kissed the beautiful concrete parking lot as we went to the movies later I was so grateful to be warm and out of the wilderness. But no worries, friends. I have mentioned my stubbornness issues. I was back caving the next day.