Guy-James, Tennessee, Part Two

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Guy-James, March, 2008, Part Two

The main line crosses over a huge dune of clay, and we have to adjust our buoyancy to get over it - the line buried in its peak. The passage widened as we dropped down the backside of the clay dune. Such a large clay bank is unusual in this system, indeed it is the only one I know of here, although they are common in caves with air overhead and sometimes you can shimmy up those clay banks into the open air and continue on "dry" caving. I must admit I thought of gouging initials in that clay bank - I'm contrary that way sometimes - but you must admit it would be funny to scrawl DIC in big letters, take a picture, and post it on the cave divers forum. DIC was here too! But then the joke of it dimmed and I swam on, hurrying to catch up with Mike.

The part of the system was low and wide. Trees littered the sides, caught against sharp angles of rocks, some trapped under fallen ceiling slabs of limestone, some just bottle-necked in great heaps as if bull-dozed into place. They weren't large trees, but not small ones either. Up to 30 or 40 feet in length, thick as large man's leg or his torso at their base, some sported thick short broke-off branches, like knobs or hand-holds, while others shot off long thinner branches making a maze-work of criss-crossing limbs. Suddenly the line T'd again and here perhaps was the other end the line at the earlier T. It is quite common in this system for side passages to join up with the main passage again.

And here small crayfish, but this time not albino at all, roamed the floor, zooming under small rocks as Mike swam over them and my light caught them in motion. There were at least a dozen all in motion at the same time and then they all stopped, leaving small waspish silt clouds to disappear on the slight current. I stopped too, hovering over one and staring down at it. The dark spots of its eyes bulged out at me as it stared back. I kept my light to one side, dimly illuminating the creature in its penumbra. As it stared up at me, I moved the brighter spot of light towards it until the full glare was on it, nearly hiding it from me in the brightness, yet it did not move, but remained frozen in place. I moved the spot back away, until again only the dimmest edge of the beam illuminated Starky (it seemed only right to give it a name). Still he sat. I then very very slowly pointed one finger at him and moved it ever so slowly towards him, stopping to let currents of my movement pass on the currents of this underground river. The pointing finger approached within about 3 inches, then Starky took off in a sudden flash of movement that startled me so much my buoyancy went to ####! It also brought me to full attention and the realization that Mike was once again far ahead.

He was investigating rocks, looking for fossils, checking out the bones of birds, chickens, and probably cow (the larger bones); the poor creatures who died above ground and whose bones were then washed along rivulets through the woods to the flash-flood streams, and down into the karst windows. Our history is full of cultures in which death involves a journey along a river that flows underground and it's easy down here in the underground river to understand the power of such beliefs. I think that when I die, I hope I get to take my cave gear! Diving the River Styx must be one of the "once in a life time" dives!

As I hurried to catch up with Mike, that humongous crayfish caught my eye causing me to signal Mike to come back here and take a look. Maybe it was the Mama of all these babies, its brood off on their own at last. But maybe they all return to Mama after their foraging excursions, after a day off catching prey they might gather again in the safety of Big Momma. There was plenty to eat here what with all the decaying wood and other vegetation and such. Rather large albino isopods were everywhere, like small millipedes they scrambled on rocks and covered the tree trunks and branches. Bugs out eating and growing big - Spring is in the air, even down here.

As we turned to go, I led off, trading up places with Mike. I was close to thirds, but wanted to get along a bit further before turning the dive, so swam on dedicated to seeing what was around the next corner. More trees, and large rock breakdown increased, no longer confined to the wide sides, but now threatening to choke off the passage. Then I saw the ambient light from above and stopped, clutching the upper branch of a water-sodden tree I was about to swim over, staring at the beauty of the yellow beams dancing in the flowing current. Like a gem the scene was less a scene than an object of cut stone, as if the opening to the surface, framed by rock, was not a hole but a solid brilliant jewel; figure had become ground and ground was figure. It was breathtaking and I swam slowly to it as if I could reach out and touch it, feel the cool smoothness of its polished surface, bask in the rays refracting through it, and thus be soothed by the physics of the tao.

It was more of a crawl than a swim, with debris and rock everywhere forming a convoluted route to opening. The illusion of the world's largest emerald had faded. I ducked and twisted and turned and then was directly under the light. I rose up without giving a single thought to running a line and thus broke the cardinal rule - maintain a continuous guideline to the exit. I was mesmerized by my earlier vision, was excited by the prospect of having connected the two karst windows, and couldn't wait to look up into the air and woods from the bottom of this opening I had only seen from above during a hiking-search through those woods. And now we were here and it was amazing.

The sides are solid rock cliff rising straight up for 50 feet. It is a narrow slit no more than five feet wide, tapering to nothing at one end and to two feet at the other. It is no more than 30 feet long, with one end a sharp undercut of rock and the other end a slope of loose debris. The sun is almost directly overhead and the entire slit is bright with yellow light. It reflects in magical twinkles from the weathered angles of the wet rock all around us. Greening trees, still mostly bare from the long winter, but starting to leaf in places rim the sides above as a soft moss leans over the edge and hangs down like furry green curtains. Gentle falls and drips of water make a music that resounds up the rock walls, resonating as it goes, multiplying the overlays in hi-fi stereo surround sound. Beautiful.