Lost Soldier's Cave Trip Report
by Glenn Butcher

Wondering what to do on a cold rainy El Niņo weekend? Why, go caving of course! And off we went to explore the Lost Soldiers Cave in the Giant Sequoia National Park. The very capable Lynn VanErden, our trip leader was joined by Eric Goodill and John Komas, a real fine bunch of motivated cavers.

The Myth of the Lost Soldiers Cave dates back to the 1860's when a civil war scout was reconnoitering the area (or perhaps hiding out from his Gettysburg assignment). I don't know if this soldier was confederate or a union soldier, but since I'm from the good ole south I'll speculate he was a Glenn Butcher yamn dankee. This soldier located the cave and during his exploration had the terrible misfortune of falling down the ten meter drop. Either injured or otherwise unable to climb out, this poor tortured soul spent several days in deep dark despair. Alone in this cold wet muddy dark and totally isolated place can severely affect even the most capable soldier's judgment. The story continues that he was armed with his trusty revolver, and deep in his hopelessness had considered ending his misery by dispatching himself. Perhaps survival instincts made him reconsider and he hurled his side arm further down into the cave and outside of his temptation. The story has a happy ending that after several days he was finally rescued....but the mystery of the revolver's location still remains. (At least they told me he was rescued, to keep me from totally freaking out).

After a pleasant drive to the park and playing with Eric's new GPS receiver (Garman 12XL, too cool), we arrived at the campground just in time for the really big downpour. Raining so hard that in the two minutes of setting up my tent, my ground cloth had already accumulated an inch or two, oh what great fun. Thanks Mr. Niņo. Of course the "rain on the tent" serenade always help me sleep soundly, and drowns out my snoring soundly too. Gently awakened by screaming kids and yet more rain, I got the honor of meeting Regan Barry and Steve Micola. They had both ventured into the cave the previous day. While eating a hearty breakfast I expressed my anxiety of my first descent of Lost Soldiers. Each member of the group had a scary tale of the vertical drop, or the sketchy chimney, the certian death exposure, or the muddy squeeze. But they quickly reassured me about my overall chances of survival, after they noticed my ashen expression of apprehension. Steve and Regan are terrific characters and I enjoyed meeting them.

Eric, John, Lynn and myself gathered up all or our ropes and assorted caving gear, and began the short hike in the rain in search of Lost Soldiers. The trail was easy and well maintained but I got wetter from the brush and grass then from the constant drizzle. The entrance was not what I had expected, anticlimactic. A small but very sturdy locked gate protected a tiny unassuming hole in a rock outcropping. As if an omen of what was to come, a large muddy puddle surrounded the gated entrance to greet us.

We quickly suited up, padded up and scrambled into our climbing gear. Locking carabineers, helmet secured, screwing ovals, a quick buddy check, and a short prayer, now my adrenaline is really starting to flow. My head was spinning, filled with all my vertical lessons, and the dark image of apprehension and the basic fear of the unknown. Check, check and recheck. My safety ready, mental change-over, light check, backup ready, pack tethered? A test of inner character, of how well I have learned my new skills? How well will I perform? Caution, but still searching inside for that last shred of bravery and self confidence. Time to face and confront my fears. Then I realized that I had brought all of my equipment except my trusty revolver! A quick glance at my faithful friends showed that they did not detect my secret turmoil.

Finally ready, Eric and Lynn began the rigging of John's brand new rope. Still curious about anchors I paid close attention. A giant oxidized steel "O-ring" protruded from the backside of the well constructed gate. A figure eight, with a fisherman's backup knot, provides our safety line. Looking inside, a large trough full of mud dropped and snaked out of view. A big log flume ride, as I imagined the soldier slipping and sliding in the thick muck, down the ride of his life. Entering the sloping cave, with great attention on my safety, the passage slanted steeply, around the corner and abruptly dropped into a giant chimney and bottomless pit. Easy to envision that soldier funneling and sliding through slippery mud, right over the edge into the abyss.

"Watch for sudden tension in the safety line, should someone below you slip". Great words of caution brought my focus back from civil war days, as my face and hands were adjacent to the mentioned rope. Already great clogs of mud were adhering to my boots, gloves, rope and everything. Two bolts and hangars were fixed firmly on the rock face, right above the precipice. Adjusting the two figure eight knots, Lynn instructed minimal slack and "in-line" for the backup anchor positioning. He pointed out the non-optimal angle the primary anchor made on the rock face. The carabineer acts like a lever arm to pry at the anchor when loaded. Very instructional but not too reassuring.

After untangling the rope and pitching it over, "ROPE" he exclaimed to the Lost Soldier below. Loading this lifeline, a mysterious loud metallic click drew our attention. On down he went, after describing what we should expect. Next was Eric's turn, down the dark drop. Again a loud click!? Anchors fast, all looks OK. Finally my turn "ON ROPE" I said with false confidence. Several times I examined my equipment, carabineer gate not loaded, rope securely fastened, prior to taking off my safety. Then I noticed a small nub in the rock by the anchor's carabineer. Examining the various load vectors it occurs to me the carabineer readjusts and pops past this small rock. The loud click revealed! Not the missing soldiers' revolver being cocked! Down I went through the not so tight chimney. Past the final rock to free hang and to look about. A sloping mud shelf bisected the drop, as I hear "stay on rope". Shuffling past the sloping bit to another rock climb down. The floor covered in three inch thick and oozing mud. Carefully placing the rope in a dryer spot, "OFF ROPE" reverberates up to the first drop.

The cavernous space opens up as I move down further from the drop zone. This muddy floor is where the nameless soldier lie pondering his fate. Glancing back up the drop just taken, I spot John on his rappel down. I imagine yelling for HELP for three or four days. I asked Lynn how high this drop was and he shared his caving rule of thumb. "Estimate the height as you would outside, divide by two...and then DON'T BELEIVE IT!" Looking back up the darkness as John's light wobbled about I could not even estimate the drop. Without nearby reference and surrounded by darkness, it could be fifty feet or twenty feet, I could not judge.

After we regrouped and rested, we pushed on through a tiny rock tube. "What's that ahead?...A really tight constriction....Oh boy let's go." My enthusiastic caving partners. Struggling through I noticed several scratch marks on the rock, perhaps made from chest boxes and other climbing equipment. Hopefully not haunted soldier's claw marks. Already I am covered in mud from head to toe. All of my climbing gear too. After opening up again into a breakdown room, we scramble to the next intimidating obstacle, a mud covered chimney climb above a small canyon. Now chimneys have always terrified me. My brain knows about friction and opposing forces and all that but convincing my body to cooperate is another matter. Luckily my benevolent caving partners have the compassion and patients to kindly point out critical foot and hand holds which allowed me to conquer my deepest chimney fears. What a great feeling of accomplishment, we beginners have with these small victories.

Next comes the really big drop, some sixty feet or so. After watching Lynn's expert rigging techniques, we each sat in the "Angles Seat". This perfect rock void allows rappel connection directly above the edge of the drop. In fact this is the most perfect cliff edge I have ever climbed on. Again two anchors, rigged into two carabineers, and then into two figure eight knots, with a hand line and third backup to a large rock outcropping. Someone mentioned to closely examine that rock as it might not be completely solid connection, some soil was visible in the crack. Eric wedges into the chimney and looks up bravely for an action photo. Down we go in a rather tight chimney, past some real interesting rock erosion patterns. Limestone and nature make really great sculptures, ancient modern art. Emerging free hanging into the largest cavern yet encountered. Slowing I take time to enjoy the awesome view that my head light affords. The longest drop of the cave ends in a break down region, with my friends shouting encouragement from the boulders below. Twisting and floating in air, I exhilarate at my mastership of the vertical. I drink in the view while plunging down my first descent into this haphazard collection of rocks and walls. Finally down, scrambling around on wobbly legs, I quickly untied and joined my colleges as the last caver began descending. This enormous room is quite spectacular and is called "The Waiting Room", named for the time required for everyone to negotiate back up this, the largest drop.

A short food break for some extra energy, and Lynn tells us about the Lost Soldiers Trustees Organization, how they came about, and the services they provide to the Park System. I learned that several of my SFBC friends--Lynn, Peter and Ann Bosted, Jim Hildebrandt--are Trustees here in association with Joel Despain the parks Cave Specialist. Formed after some formation damage, this volunteer group has yearly meetings to determine strategies, planning, restoration, permits and the rules required in the interest of preserving this magical place. I salute all the trustees and hold a reverence for their efforts. I am very much enjoying this fantastic place.

After our short break we proceeded on further and past some flowstone hallways into a small creek bed to see some of the tremendous restoration work done here at Lost Soldiers. A beautiful white column and surrounding flowstone wall has been painstakingly restored. I tried a posed photograph with back lighting of our leader admiring the restoration work. Looking closely you could see small grains of dirt and mud having been covered and incorporated into the formation. Exactly where you might place a muddy gloved hand for balance. Several formations are visible in this area and some helictites on the ceiling. Lynn commented that all cavers should experience the hard work of restoration, so that each of us would be extra considerate not to place our hands or soil the formations. Made perfect sense to me!

A short chimney climb up to peek into the "Starlight Room" which was also heavily decorated and the sight of additional restoration work. Exiting the creek bed from a small hole near the floor we crawled through some short chimneys to emerge in the "Contact Room."

Here was a huge overhead chasm, a crack between two types of rock, had captured enormous boulders having toppled from above. These mammoth rocks held suspended, dripping, pouring with water all around. The rushing and flowing waters collected into a small stream at the base of the large slanted rock wall, and meandered out of sight. Large boulders littered the floor, having dropped through the large crack in the ceiling. Crushed and splintered rocks gave evidence of how cataclysmic and dynamic this region of the cave has been. I awkwardly attempt a group photo. I greatly underestimated the amount of time and cooperation required to set up a really great cave photographs. The fumbling I did makes me greatly appreciate the expert photographers we have within our grotto. I have a great deal to learn. We climbed around in this break down area to finally emerge from a hole in the floor back into the Waiting Room again.

Next we rigged the final drop into "The Well". This region is rich with flowstone and formations that surround this pit. Quite interesting were rounded nodules, multicolored, seen in some of the flowstone. The entrance to "Ruby's Crawl" is nearby this pit, and connects to a large portion of the cave. The Well is a small twenty foot pit that drops you past a harmonic formation, that actually rings when the rope touches it. Charming, F-flat I think. At the base we scramble out of our climbing gear, and await John's arrival..... "Oh Shoot" echoes down the chimney. I'm trying to remember which command that is. "My light just went out", John exclaims, as I envision him on rope with his hands full, in total darkness halfway down the wet drop. Scary thought. "I'm still at the top", I am somewhat reassured. Finally rejoined, I am reminded that I meant to activate my own back up light before I began each rappel, to avoid this problem, and forgot all three times. John quickly recovers his light source, the universe now safe, we continue further down.

Caving on down through some belly crawling and creek junction to emerge into "The Corridor". This vast hallway has a huge floor collapse region which we all must take the bold step to cross. Right at the edge of the step are some strategic formations, at shoulder level, clearly designed to throw you off balance just as you take the momentum across the large floor consuming hole. "The Column" a mighty formation, crystal white, is majestic as it rises from floor to ceiling. Very thick and solid looking, it reminds me of a large albino tree trunk. Reaching yet another floor hole obstacle meant the previous path was to squeeze around behind this tremendous formation, but the addition of a strategically placed aluminum ladder and flagging tape now protects this awesome formation and all the tedious hours of restoration work.

A short food break here, as we marveled at the scope and breathtaking results of the restoration work. Lynn shared with us his story of several restoration trips. My favorite involved hauling countless segments of garden hose to connect the creek bed outside the gate, all the way down to the "Corridor". Keep in mind that we are deep in the cave, past all three drops, plus all the caving we did, must be 40 or 50 miles underground, and here they place the Hetch Hetchy of garden hoses. The restoration group brought this lengthy garden hose down to blast the muddy hand prints off this spectacular flowstone lined Corridor and the mighty pristine Column. Jokes about not rigging onto the green rope! Watch out for that big snake. Several hundred vertical feet of water pressure was enormous. Contrasting the small familiar spray bottle with a massive fire hose. I had visions of a giant tidal wave filling the entire space with cavers floating around. What a tremendous effort. I truly admire the efforts of these selfless volunteers. What wonderful work indeed.

Now some six hours into the cave, at the lowest point so far, totally soaked and muddy, thoroughly exhausted and loving it, out of food and water, I thought I had better turn back now, and save some energy for the climb out. Luckily we did one last adventure, crawling around a collapsed floor section we emerge into the "Chapel Room". The most heavily decorated so far, I see tiny delicate helictite formations growing at odd twisted angles. Some grow vertical, some spiral, some are forked, some bulbous. All are pure white and untouched. A truly magical and sacred place. I am in awe with this splendid view. A feeling of pure calm and serenity washes over me, like a new awakening. The lost soldier inside of me is stirring. Finally I have found the pristine delicate formations, I have only seen in photographs. What majestic beauty we mere mortals behold.

Alas all cave adventures must come to an end, and we begin the journey back to the surface. First we climb out the well to the waiting room. As a beginner and overly cautious, my ascent is slow. So slow in fact that Lynn free climbs to emerge out ahead of me. Next comes the ascent up the big drop to the Angles Seat. I was quite pleased with my equipment and up I went. Some awkward maneuvers to avoid contacting the rock chimney, but finally I sit in the perfect Angles Seat. What a great relief it is to be off rope, my harness not straining anymore. Steam rises from my body and I realize I am panting after the long climb. Standing to greet John Komas, I notice that I am fatigued from the climb and a bit unsteady. My unsteadiness grows as I face the slippery chimney spanning the canyon for the climb out. But again Johns compassion helps by showing me the all important foot holds. By taking it slow I emerge unscathed. Sweating profusely, heart racing it is my turn to help John as his light fails one more time. Three sources of light, backup batteries seem inadequate for these all day cave trips. Offering him my backup batteries is the only solution, as my fresh set is in my helmet. John mentioned that he is so tired that he had to use his left hand to straighten out his cramped right thumb and fingers.

While John is optimizing his new light source and finger straightening, I press on ahead and back up the small tube crawl way. About half way through my chest becomes wedged. While seeking a slightly lower approach I somehow trap my climbing gear beneath me. Forward progress stops because my gear is pinned. Cannot go up due to large chest size in small tube. I can't even seem to turn my head to look. Exhausted, confined, and somewhat stuck, I pause and laugh at my predicament and try to think my way out. Chuckling to no one in particular, my inability to move seems thoroughly entertaining. I have found that trying to spread the rock walls apart doesn't work very well. Continued wriggling, contorting, and battling an inch at a time, finally unweight my trapped gear. Whew! A toe hold here, a shoulder shuffle there, finally I am free. Onward and out of the tube I collapse out of breath, on the cool cave floor, I relax and await Johns crawl. Sitting there in the darkness, thoughts of the soldier return. But no feeling of dread or despair, only the joy of accomplishment and the thrill that comes with exhaustion. I met my fears and have (so far) overcome them. The pistol is not needed, the spirit of the rope saves me.

John rejoins me and I hear Eric and Lynn at the slippery canyon far behind us. John and I trudge up the muddy slope to the final ascent. John goes first and after some effort and no light failures, it is my time. I approach the rope with reverence. A final equipment check and clipping in, I notice the mud. Up the climb and past the slippery slope, now free hanging. The mud is pervasive, everywhere. I notice some difficulty in advancing my croll ascender. On closer inspection it looks like a giant ball of mud, muddy rope, muddy glove, muddy chest, muddy mud. The ascender needs more force to break its hold while clogged with mud, and my boots have less of a grip on the muddy rope. These factors compound and befuddle me, after several strokes and no progress, I feel spent. I concentrate hard on my technique, and progress about five feet. Resting again I hear Eric and Lynn below, asking about my status. Breathless I plead for a little tension in the rope please. That makes all the difference and up I go. Fixing my safety and moving on up, how great it is to be at the top. I have conquered my fears and have ascended all three drops. What an accomplishment, I feel just terrific.

Exiting the cave, very dark now some ten hours from when we began, covered in mud from head to toe, soaking wet, I sit to await our fellow cavers. Pausing for a moment I totally relax, melt into the rock outcropping, shear exhaustion, dehydrated, bruised and battered, steaming, and yet never so fulfilled. Once rested and exposed to the chilled mountain air I notice quite profoundly that I am cold. As long as I am moving it is not a problem, but lying here waiting for the others there is no denying the chill in my spine. The gang regroups and we hike back to the campsite. Dry clothes are great, warm food that has never tasted so good. My great caving comrades, sharing their challenges and tales around the giant roaring camp fire. Life is good.

Well that's it, I'm hooked on caving forever. The thrill of victory, and the soldiers wisdom to persevere and to shun the temptation of "the easy way out". The journey, the challenge, the test, and the accomplishment. Life's rewards are subtle but so sweet. Lost Soldiers is a splendid cave trip and I am lucky to have enjoyed it with my good friends.

©2008. These pages and their contents are property of the San Francisco Bay Chapter Incorporated, part of the National Speleological Society, except where otherwise noted. Opinions expressed within are not necessarily those of the SFBC, its board members, or the NSS.