Getting Vertical in IXL Cave IXL was the first cave I did with the grotto, around the end of 1997. It was also my first "real" wild cave, my only other experience being the "wild tour" at Moaning Caverns. A few weeks later, I found myself back at IXL with Lysa deThomas. We just finished the annual Empire Cave Cleanup, and I was itching to visit the "Hall of Faces," which I missed on the first trip. Lysa was kind enough to haul a rope, for a hand line, to the top of the pit, and rig it up for the exposed traverse. Half way across, Lysa said I turned ghost white. Knees shaking, I scrambled back to the top of the pit. My first lesson in exposure. I didn't like it. I left IXL feeling pretty down. What kind of caving was I going to be able to do if I couldn't deal with exposure? Not very much, I didn't think. As it turns out, my love for squeezes would offer me redemption of a sort, later. But the "incident at IXL" would continue to haunt me. Maybe I will never be able to deal with exposure in the right frame of mind. I can accept that, if that is the case. But there may be a path to recovery, and if so, I know that path must start with the "conquering of IXL." If I couldn't traverse the top of the pit, I was just going to have to rappel to the bottom of the rotten thing. A little over a year later, and here I am, driving to John Komas' to pick up the rope Eric Goodill and I would use to finally drop that pit. I got to John's house right on time, but ended up chatting for a half an hour longer then I intended. John's one of those rare people you can chat with for hours about nothing in particular, and wonder where all the time went to. I finally noticed the time and rushed back to my vehicle, only to be informed by Eric, via the cell phone, that there was an accident on the 17 and I should expect a thirty minute delay. The accident wasn't bad, but I did end up the obligatory hour late. I eventually made it to Ken's place, where Eric was patiently waiting. Ken had very kindly volunteered to fetch the permit and key from the park for us earlier in the week, since he was so close. Ken hadn't been to the cave in awhile, so he decided to wander down there with us. Maybe he would go into the Big Room, or just sit on the surface and listen to the birds. Either way, he seemed almost as excited as we were. I'm happy to report that the gate is still there, and mostly intact. One of the bars was bent slightly, but not enough to let anyone through. There are a few chips in the cement, but nothing serious, and a few scratches on the frame. I think we all lost the pool. Anyway, the locks were a pain in the arse to open, and after a good five minutes of wiggling and cursing, we were beginning to think the gate was working too well. Finally, however, we managed to pop the locks open. It was such a nice day that Ken decided to stay on the surface and just enjoy the trees. Since Eric had never been to IXL before, I took the lead and down to the Big Room we went. Eric started to express a bit of concern about his ability to actually exit the cave, after he plopped through the Man Trap. Apparently, his helmet got a bit stuck and he was entertaining visions of hanging himself if his feet lost their tenuous purchase on the polished marble. But he seemed to forget about it when I promised him that we could probably get him out. I thought he was going to freak when I pulled out thirty feet of webbing and began rigging it to that little column, near the entrance to the Big Room. Lord only knows the trouble he thought I was getting him into! Once again, he trusted me for some reason, when I assured him the webbing only made it easier to get in and out of the Big Room, and wasn't really required. Just easier. Eric and I spent a few minutes admiring the Big Room. If you haven't been to IXL, the Big Room is said almost tongue in cheek. I mean, it isn't cramped or anything, but awe inspiring it is not. The ceiling is maybe twenty feet high in spots, and I would guess it is about fifteen in length and perhaps eight or ten feet wide. We moved on. The entrance to the Corkscrew is probably the tightest spot we would hit, but I don't recall either of us having any trouble. Unfortunately, at about this time I started getting a little neurotic. Eric and I would alternate who pushed the packs and rope ahead. Whenever it was Eric's turn, I couldn't help from telling him to "Be careful not to push the packs into a hole!" Picture me saying this every thirty seconds, with only minor variations, and you'll get a little hint about how annoying I must have been. I was even driving myself nuts! Finally we hit the end of the Corkscrew, where the "little pit" is. I don't know how deep it is, but I keep remembering being told about thirty feet or so. For whatever reason, I was having the hardest time convincing myself to swing out over the thing. When I finally did, I looked down and realized that there was probably a ledge no more than six or eight feet down. I really need to loosen up a bit! Anyway, the top of the "big pits" was only a few feet away, and I managed to get us there in one piece. On the other hand, just a few months ago, drunk college kids made it back here all the time, so perhaps I shouldn't be so proud! At the top of the pits, I of course continued with my whining about dropping the packs into a hole. I got so bad, that Eric finally tethered them both to something solid, just to shut me up. Now Eric could rig the drop in peace. We still had two problems, however. First, in the process of transporting the rope to the back of the cave, it had become hopelessly tangled. So much so, that it took us a good twenty minutes to unravel the mess. The second problem was that this was the first time Eric ever rigged a drop. He had seen it done before, of course, and read a lot about it. But reading and watching, and actually doing are all quite different things. The first task was anchor selection. There were a lot of choices, and we considered each in turn. One would only hold maybe ten thousand tons--that wouldn't do. Another fifty ton rock looked like it was only cemented down with mud, and couldn't have been there longer then fifty thousand years. We finally picked the obvious one--a knob of rock right at the edge of the pit, where everyone seems to tie their handlines to. Really, this thing is bomber. We triple wrapped the rope around the base, and then Eric rigged up some strange load-balancing thing which sucked up three 'biners. Then we backed the whole thing up. I think I would have been comfortable dropping a Volkswagen down a four hundred foot pit with that rigging. Our first pitch was only forty feet. Since this was Eric's first time rigging, I felt it was only polite to let Eric go first. "On rope!" he stated firmly, as he clipped on his safety. After checking his equipment again, over the edge he went. Just below the rig point, maybe five feet down, is a small ledge which is a perfect rest area for getting yourself organized before starting the rappel. Weighting his Petzl stop, he unhooked his safety and down he went. A few moments later I hear "Which way do you think I should go?" I knew there was a left side and a right side to the pit, but I didn't know how swiss-cheesy it really was back there. "Whichever way looks the most pit-ish!" I barked back. A few more moments, and once again "Left or right?" Yet again I hollered, "Just pick whatever looks most vertical!" Finally, I hear those two special words, "Off rope!" My turn. "On rope!" I yelled. I clipped on my safety, rigged my Petzl stop onto the rope, and swung over the edge. I was now standing firmly on the small ledge. I fumbled with my pack a bit, not used to it hanging between my legs. The little things you discover the first time you do it for real, and not at a vertical practice! Eric must have thought I was having seconds thoughts, since I was taking so long checking and double-checking and adjusting and rearranging. Just as he starting asking about my condition, I had finished fiddling and was ready to go. I weighted my Stop, released my safety, and down I went. Slowly. Very very slowly. And then it was over. I was next to Eric, who was poking around, looking for more horizontal passage. The pits did continue another thirty feet or so, but we didn't think we had time to go on. Already we had been in IXL for four hours or so, and Ken was waiting for us on the surface. We had a drink and a brief rest, and back up we went. Eric went first, and made it up in a few minutes. At the time, I thought it was taking him quite a while, until it was my turn. I don't think I got a single good stroke in. There was only about five feet of free hang, and all that did was twist me about. I also tied my pack's tether about an inch and a half too short, so that I stepped on my pack at the bottom end of every stroke. I was also in constant fear that one of the non-locking 'biners on my pack would open and drop it back down the pit. It was all rather silly, really, but I made it up in just a minute or so. With much fanfare, I swung myself over the lip and detached my equipment. And with a smug "Off rope!," I completed my first in-cave vertical work. Of course de-rigging the pit was another fun experience, and it took a good half an hour just to re-coil the rope. On the way out, I think we both had a nice little feeling of accomplishment. It wasn't the best or biggest pit, but it was the first Eric rigged alone, and the first I had dropped ever. Of course, every thirty seconds I had to say "Sorry about warning you not to drop my pack down a hole every thirty seconds on the way in." With plenty of "But you really should be careful of dropping the packs down that hole that is coming up on the left." mixed in. Eric, next time I'll push my own damn pack, and spare everyone my whining! We hit the Big Room, and that webbing I rigged earlier made getting out a snap. But then we hit the Man Trap. You have to realize, the squeeze is upwards in this direction, and it can be a bit tricky to get a good foothold or handhold to haul yourself up with. Eric tried one angle, and then another. He kicked with his feet, he pulled with his arms. He huffed. He puffed. He didn't even come close to making it through. Really, I think it was mostly psychological. He predicted this on the way in, and with those negative thoughts fresh in mind, he doomed himself to failure. If he hadn't thought about it, I'm sure he would have popped right through. But I certainly wasn't going to wait and find myself stuck behind him. Five hours in IXL is plenty, thank you kindly! I popped through, and dragged the gear up with me. Ken, who was nearby, heard us approaching the surface, and kindly volunteered to drag our stuff out while Eric negotiated the squeeze. I took him up on the offer, but not until I removed my etrier and a bunch of webbing from my pack. The webbing went around a rock, the etrier got attached to one end, and I pulled on the other until it was just the right level for Eric to get some purchase on. With the etrier in place, Eric freed himself quickly. See, all psychological. Unfortunately, I was pretty close to the surface. Which meant daddy-long-legs, my great nemesis. I spotted one on the low ceiling, starting that bouncing dance of doom. I shivered. Yup, all psychological. My velocity increased rapidly in the direction of the entrance, and I quickly emerged, panting. I'll work on that "spider thing" some other time...
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