onto a dangerous path.  If there had been even one solid caver, with gear, on the surface and just a pittance of life jackets it would have been possible to avoid the full-scale rescue that was conducted.  The problem was not that a rescue had to be initiated, but that our group was put into a position without safe issue.  In addition to a standard trip report I am going to highlight the decisions that set us on our course, decisions that I made, but now know to avoid, and if need be, to abort the trip.

(Steve Gladieux)

experience in SVCS. The first mistakes happened before stepping foot inside Sloan’s.  A friend of one of the newer members of our group wanted to come along; furthermore, they had had plans to go to Ohio with one of our group members before the plans were canceled in favor of this trip.  Our group total was now one higher.  Furthermore when we met our last two group members at our campsite near SVCS they had two additional friends with them whose presence had not been approved by me, but who had driven 6 hours to get there.  The group total was now up to nine.

Friday Night
Friday night I had intended to lead a short round-trip through the main Minton Hollow entrance to acclimate the new cavers to what the following day would be like.  Let it be said that it is very difficult to find this entrance in the dark, in the spring, with all of the distractions of a large cheerful group behind you.  We never actually found that entrance that night, although I had been through it plenty of times before.  The result was a relatively sleepless night spent in a dry riverbed.  No one was discouraged, everyone enjoyed Friday night’s adventure but it left the group as a whole much more fatigued on Saturday than if we had all slept well.  It meant that I would be awake for 46 hours before everyone else was safely out of the cave.  In addition to the lack of sleep, we had intended to eat a late dinner after caving and we were thus bereft of a meal as well. Sunrise came and we were shortly back at camp where some of our members managed to catch a little sleep, yet if we were to do the intended through trip (Post Office to the Garbage Pit) and get back to the Red (River Gorge), we needed to get started soon. Some people managed to get four hours of sleep; I stayed awake and fended off the stray dog that had followed us back and was wreaking havoc on our camp.

Saturday
We headed off to the Post Office entrance (a 25’ chimney) at around 11:00 am.  Two of our group decided that they valued their sleep more than a day of caving.  I told them that we would be topside easily by 6:00 pm.  This put our group number down to seven but was one of our greatest mistakes because the only other member of our group who knew the cave was staying topside.  The trip should have been called off at this point or drastically changed. One experienced caver is not enough for six greenhorns, no matter how physically fit; for the record two “guides” are not sufficient for seven people either.  The ratio of experienced cavers who knew the cave to those who did not was WAY off, and this is the most basic safety rule.  

    I used a 70’ 8mm hand-line and a Munter hitch to lower everyone down the chimney, although it can be free climbed (but is fairly dangerous).  Once in Sloan’s we spent some time wandering around and I took the group on a number of side tours on the way, which used up more of our time, but at this point everyone was excited, in good shape, and having a great time.  Everyone got their fill of crawls, river passage, and big rooms.  I took them past the Fountain of Youth, which they later saw from the bottom, and to the Big Room’s north overlook.  I knew that the water level would be high, and that it might not be possible to take the Appalachian Trail bypass.  The first sign of high water was in the stream passage under the Fountain of Youth.

    Tempus fugit; and our time was running low so we decided to make for the Garbage Pit with no additional side trips.  I had forgotten that the bolts at the Big Room’s south overlook had been cut, but I lowered everyone off a dependable protrusion of rock (if you’ve been there you probably know exactly what I’m talking about).  I kept everyone “on belay” until they had walked safely off of the ledge below this 8’ drop. I knew that this climb/drop had resulted in someone breaking his back and likely many other accidents so I was especially careful.  I lowered myself and took a moment to think.  We were running out of time, the fatigue was beginning to weigh on everyone, and we had as little as 40 minutes of caving ahead of us before we would be at the Garbage pit, whereas there was more than 2.5 hrs of caving behind us, mostly elevation gain, and some tight places.  Knowing that with the time it would take to belay everyone back up without a clean anchor we would be hours late and exhausted. I pulled the rope down. 

I knew that in the worst case scenario we might have to swim, but that the entrance was not far past the First Lake Room and that we would want the rope for the lake.  This was the most critical moment and it was when I realized that we had only two choices, and that both choices involved significant danger.  Weighing the choices, I chose to head for the Garbage Pit because we could avoid Jason (who was topside) calling for help, and because we could be out of the cave sooner, which was becoming more important as people were getting more and more fatigued. I should not have weighed the likelihood of Jason calling for help; all that mattered was getting everyone out safely.  Furthermore I should not have conducted a pull down trip without knowing for sure that the way ahead was passable; passable for EVERYONE, not just me.

We traversed the Big Room to find that it was cut in half by water from the Second Lake Room.  The fact that the water came all of the way across the Big Room and was 20 feet wide meant that the water level was at least 35 feet higher than the last time that I had been there; I knew that we’d have to swim, or at least wade across the First Lake Room.  We were able to cross the Big Room without getting wet past our thighs, but the crossing was treacherous, with rocks hidden beneath the murky water, and many people had to get their arms wet to the shoulder to prevent broken ankles.

Minutes later we were crossing the top of the Hogback, exulting in the majesty of the Appalachian Trail, the height of the Hogback, and the surreal ceiling so close above us.  There was laughter and everyone worked together to get safely over the breakdown.  Content that everyone was working together and being safe, I went ahead to Echo Junction, only a stone’s throw away and within sight of their lights.  The others found me sober and somber on the shores of a lake that completely concealed the entrance to the bypass and extended off into the darkness, too far for our lights to see the other side.
Here was another crucial moment.  The walls were sheer; I estimated the depth of water to be over 30’ in some places and it was at least 175’ to the other side, but we couldn’t see it.  Knowing that we had an even longer way behind us than before, and an up-climb that I would likely be the only one able to do, a climb that I would have to do without a belay and risk leaving the group with no one who knew the way out, I decided that a short swim would be wiser; maybe only short for some of us.  As we were already wet to almost the waist and getting cold, sunlight in 30 minutes was our best hope.  I still feel that this was the better of two choices, but it was not executed as it should have been.  Who would swim ahead? Who would scout the other side?  Next was the question of headlamps. 

There were only two headlamps in the group that I was confident were totally waterproof and I wasn’t wearing one of them.  I was using an alpine light, one that fed through my collar and had a battery pack slung under my arm, the kind that is a pain to get on or off.  Darshan volunteered to do the swim, and changed headlamps with someone else.  He was now wearing a Petzl Duo 5.  If we could get a light on the opposite side of the water I could put the rest of the headlamps one by one in my dry bag and swim them across, but we needed a light at our destination.  I knew that there would be more breakdown and another lake ahead. We would need our boots, but how would we get them across?  We should have left them, or filled my dry bag with air and attached them, but we didn’t. 

Darshan began the swim with his boots on, staying within about 10 feet of the left wall.  I had a rope tied around his waist, but I knew that the rope was too short.  I could pull him back if something happened in the first 70’ but after that I would be helpless. I filled my dry bag with as much air as possible, but burdened it with none of our headlamps so that we could give Darshan more light.  I attached the now floating bag to the other end of the rope so that I could swim to this buoy and pull him back if something happened, thereby cutting the swim down.  I also knew that I was the only trained lifeguard in the group, and probably the strongest swimmer; I was ready at the shore. 

Darshan was slowly making progress but it was strained.  Every once in awhile he would gasp out “Can’t see it,” until finally he said, “I can see it!” He was at the end of our sight, 170’ away.  He switched from the crawl, to the breast stroke for several feet and I cringed; he was getting tired.  He switched to an upright position, trying to keep his head above the water and then screamed, “Help!” before disappearing underwater.

The Rescue
    There was no time to think now.  I was in the water immediately and I was immediately in the dark; my headlamp went out. Another group member started getting in the water and I barked at him to stay were he was. I’m not sure if it was adrenaline, my experience as a lifeguard or cold water SCUBA diving up north, but I got to Darshan about 5 times faster than he got there.  He had gasped for breath a few more times, and made his way to the wall.  You could hear his fingernails scratching the stone, but it was too smooth.  I was alternately plunged into darkness or light depending upon whether he was gasping for air, or underwater.  He was under water when I got to him, and had been for no short span of time.  I pulled him up to the surface and he immediately put his hands on my shoulders and pushed down.  A note to those not familiar, this is what all drowning people do.  You must let them push you down, use your arms to propel yourself down in fact, and swim out surfacing a few feet away. Most victims figure things out, or get too weak to do it again, but Darshan kept it up, and I couldn’t get him in a rescuer’s hold and swim him back.

Luckily my arms are longer than his and I was able to grab him by the shoulders and throw him toward the far shore, which was only 20 feet distant, propelling myself in the other direction.  I swam back, and threw him again (rinse and repeat to the shore).  When I threw him to land I immediately noticed another problem; the shore was a mud slope and so steep that he could only use it to keep his head out of the water.  I was able to check his breathing and his pulse and was grateful that there was no need for CPR.  The shoreline dictated that there was only one thing that I could do, so I tied a bowline under his arms, climbed the 70° bank and dragged him up. 

Darshan couldn’t stand up and could barely talk.   Once in a stable position on top, I did a more thorough check of his condition.  Darshan’s skin was a pale color (he is Indian and usually very dark skinned), he was unable to shiver, his pupils were permanently dilated, he was unable to speak without slurring his words or express complete thoughts.  He had almost no motor control (fine or major), but he was able to recall his personal information (i.e. how many languages he spoke, his name, birth date, where he was).  Darshan was seriously hypothermic.

I kept talking to Darshan to keep him awake, hoping that his condition would improve and knowing that there could be fatal consequences if he lost consciousness.  He was drifting in and out at this point and it took some harsh words and two body-shaking slaps to bring him back. I made him promise to have some food and water, which was in my bag. I then shouted directions to the others, “Conserve body heat, use only one light and only when you have to, keep Darshan awake, and stay where you are.”  Luckily the acoustics in Echo Junction permitted them to speak with Darshan and they were able to see each other’s lights.  I switched headlamps with Darshan, giving him my backup and taking the Duo. I coiled the rope around me and was off.

If you know the area there is one way out when the water is this high.  Darshan was stranded between two lakes and I HAD to swim again, alone, to get out.  I slipped into the next lake and swam for my life, and Darshan’s, swearing that I would never get in this water again (I swam that lake 4 more times that day).  I used my knife to claw up one of the walls and save myself half of the swim.  I was running across a field to the cars in 15 minutes, a record I’m sure, and not a safe trip when moving that fast, much less alone. 

I alerted Jason and our friend Tom, and ran up to the landowner’s house.  We briefly debated calling for help or not, but being unable to find any sort of flotation device and knowing how dire Darshan’s condition was, I made the decision to call.  It was his life on the line, not mine; we had to call.  The first rescuer arrived in less than ten minutes.  I was gathering supplies.  I filled him in on the situation, gave him directions to the location and asked him if he was coming with me.  He and I nearly came to blows over whether or not I was to go back in alone, but he had to wait for the whole team. 

This is a difficult decision.  From the rescuer’s perspective they do not want another victim, and going back into the cave alone when wet and tired is very dangerous.  They also want someone to lead them to the victims and I was the best choice.  In this circumstance I decided to go back in for significant reasons: first the route to the victims was easy, it follows very large passageways and is relatively short. Second Jason was there and he knew the way to Echo Junction, although he had given his headlamp to someone in the cave as a backup so he couldn’t go with me. Most importantly, I have worked with many rescue squads before and I knew that it would be a very long time before they got to Darshan, whereas I could get him supplies quickly. 

I set off (just before a policeman arrived and they considered holding me) with 200’ of thin rope, food, water, and warm, dry clothes and a blanket all wrapped in several trash bags.  I held the rope to me and left the supplies on the far shore and then pulled  them across.  I had Darshan strip, I dried him off, gave him food and water, and he immediately started to improve.  It took me around 40 minutes, since leaving him, to get back to him with these supplies.  It took the rescue squad five hours to get him across the lake.  He would have been in even more critical condition by the time that happened, whereas the medics were surprised at how well he was doing and he was able to walk out (after five hours with warm, dry insulation and food and water).

With everything considered this was more of a case of stranding than of anything else.  If supplies hadn’t gotten to Darshan when they did, or if anyone else had gotten in the water (they were going to before I told them to stay) this could have been much worse and we could have been pulling bodies out of the water.  The rescue took about 11 hours total and involved much more than was needed, but one cannot ask for half a rescue and when someone’s life is on the line, the call must be made.  We are all very grateful for the team that arrived, and for everyone who spent a sleepless night that weekend. It is because the proper rescue steps were taken that everyone was able to walk out.  I’d personally like to thank Kyle, Heidi, Don, and Tracy for their part in the rescue effort. I would also like to say something to the news stations whose reports grew more and more erroneous, even though they had the real story the whole time, but I won’t say what I have to say because it’s just not nice.

    This was a sobering experience that everyone involved learned from, one that can never approach being justified to those involved, unless everyone who reads this is able to learn from it.  It is hard to know all of the moods of a cave, even if one thinks that they are very familiar with the cave.  It is possible, however, to avoid setting a course that is beset by dangers.  It is possible to make the right choice at every turn and to allow for mistakes when they are made.  This type of accident is the result of many poor choices, and of compromising circumstances, but in every case it is the responsibility of the group leader to make the right choice and look out for the group.  A string of small, inconspicuous mistakes is often more dangerous than a catastrophic error. In most cases, although they may result in equally dangerous circumstances, the lack of an outstanding error makes the danger more difficult to recognize.  It is in being unaware of dangerous circumstances that the greatest danger lies. 

End of Report...