Corky's Pot - Bar Pot

Sunday May 25th 2014

Members present: Adam Walmsley,  Mark Sims,  Toby Buxton

Prelude

The original plan had been Hammer Pot, however the forecast gave it too wet and Terry Pot™ was our chosen alternative. After second breakfast in Bernies, we drove up to The Fell and changed in unusually benign weather. The pot was found without difficulty and a pull through was rigged on the entrance pitch. After negotiating a well-rotted sheep and free climbing the next pitch, it was straight into Oily Poily Passage - certainly the most characterful part of the trip. Toby went first, followed by Mark with the rope bag and me at the back. The first few metres were straightforward, ending in a spacious aven where we caught a breather before entering the next section. This was much longer and more arduous, with nowhere to turn around and several sharp Z-bends. Toby rattled through this without any fuss, while Mark and I thrutched along behind, sweating like pineapples. Eventually, the passage narrowed a little further before ending abruptly at a skydive drop.

The rest of The Pot was pleasant but fairly nondescript and we quickly zipped down the fixed ropes into the Hall of the Fountain Ring. At this point our trip time was a little under 2 hours and Toby's bowels were holding firm, so we decided to go and see Dour Hall. This turned out to be all a bit meh, and we were out on the surface by 3 o’clock with no detectable sense of journey. Mark seemed disappointed to find that it wasn't tipping it down outside, meaning we probably could have done Hammer anyway. I felt quite the opposite, having enjoyed myself rather a lot.

With the promise of shenanigans, I was persuaded to join the others camping at Gaping Gill as the guests of Cat and Chuck. I nipped home to watch Made in Chelsea and grab the Ridge Raider, while Mark and Toby drank tea in Bernies. Rejoining them in Ingleton, we stuffed ourselves with fried goods of epic proportions in the chippy, then headed to the New Inn for beer. The weather had finally arrived, several hours late, and Toby fell into the gumption trap. Mark was having none of it. Imodium-related side effects meant that Toby was feeling a little more gay than usual, so the prospect of a night in Mark's tent was just enough to persuade him to come along. We arrived at GG at dusk and found Chuck and Cat in the beer tent. The shenanigans did not disappoint. A good time was had by all.

The adventures of Team Terry continue. Read on for the next exciting instalment.


Corky's Pot
... or 'A Series of Unfortunate Events'.

Well, it wasn't really as dramatic as all that, but we did seem to have a bit of bad luck on this trip.
I woke up to the sound of skylarks and giggling coming from Mark and Toby's tent - delightful. Camping at Gaping Gill was good despite the mizzle; oh what bliss it could have been with a bit of sunshine. We had a lazy morning mooching around camp and checking out the winch, then Cat showed us the entrance to Corky's. Mark led the way, followed by me and Toby. Trouble started immediately when a rock was somehow dropped down the entrance tube after me.

Unlike Adam H & co the previous day, we did not find Corky's to be such an appealing entrance. Many a time I heard phrases like “This is shit!”, “Is it getting any better yet?” and “They should have called this one Disappointment Pot” from behind as we crawled through the wet, gritty and sharp passages. Perhaps we're getting nesh in our old age. To be fair to it, Corky's does gradually get less shit as you progress through it, but never really reaches anything you could describe as 'good'. At the final pitch there is a loose scree of large cobbles. We collected on the solid rock at the far side of this before descending to avoid any accidents. Would that others were so careful…

Upon landing in Mud Hall we decided to go and visit the Font, just out of curiosity. Much to my delight, this route passed through a gloriously squelchy tub of mud. Now, as Chad would say, there are two kinds of mud in this world: good mud and bad mud. This was most indubitably the former and, as Will would say, there was shidids of it!

On our return through Mud Hall, disaster struck. We heard a big rock moving above, but no warning shout. I immediately knew it was coming from the top of the pitch and dived for some unsatisfactory cover in the wall. Toby and Mark thought that I had dislodged something, so had quite a surprise when the rock crashed down not two yards from where they stood. What a Stoke Lane! Our nerves were shot, yet still Toby's pants remained unsoiled. The Imodium was working miracles.

Arriving at the Main Chamber we gazed with wonder upon its floodlit magnificence and mingled with the plebs and their iPhones. Our plan had been to exit via the excellent Stream Passage Pot, however when we arrived at the first pitch, we were promptly told to naff off and leave via a different route, as something or other was being bolted. How rude! Well that was enough bad luck for one day. We made good our escape through Bar Pot, ascending South East Aven to avoid a smoke-filled Big Pitch. Don't smoke in caves, kids!

Despite my grumblings, I had a fun day out. To paraphrase a well-known proverb: 'a bad day’s caving is better than a good day at the office'. True story.