For Thursday, November 26, 1998 Drummer Column, Gibbs, 720 words

Caves and waves

Eleven years ago I took my son and a friend of his on a spelunking tour of the California Caverns at Cave City. We liked it so much that I've been going back every year with the high school Backpacking Club.

This year 40 explorers braved the muddy crevices. We usually take 60, but the caverns people were short on guides this season and capped our numbers. I guess it's hard to keep employees on for too long when their job is to crawl on their bellies in the mud all day. After a year or two that probably wears people thin.

I write about the trip each year because each year is different and this year is no different.

This year we had our most opulent, luxurious trip ever. We packed for comfort, as well as rain and cold. We brought lounge chairs; oak firewood; electric lights; a gas barbecue; two gas stoves; $300 worth of burgers, hot dogs, chips, cookies, candy, fruit, sodas, and hot chocolate; and a Winnebago on the side.

When we arrived, camp was already ready. My good friend and former student, the multi-talented handyman, carpenter, lumberjack, electrician, computer repairman, dog trainer, and stunt-driver extraordinaire, Brian Duquette, had been there for several hours setting up the Blue Hilton.

Brian had built an enormous tent out of four giant blue tarps, with a transparent tarp for the entrance. Inside were heaters and picnic tables and hot chocolate. Three electric lights atop the center pole lit the room. "Burgers can be ready any time," said Brian.

We started the fire outside with huge oak logs that burned all night and found seats. The rest of the night was dedicated to relaxing, telling stories, and making friends.

The following morning the spelunking began in waves of ten.

Old readers of this strip have heard all the pointed and pressing details of the Meatgrinder, the Worm Squirm, and Hershey Crawl, but read on because, as I said before, this trip was different. The caves were flooded.

In previous trips where the water was to our knees, it was now up to our chests. At one stretch called Pure Hell we were underwater up to our chins with our helmets scraping the roof. No matter a person's height, he had to scrunch down to fit through the passage.

At Tom's Lake, where we usually crossed in an inflated raft, we had to swim because the raft couldn't fit through the stalactites. Climbing up out of the cave was extra tough because we were extra wet and slippery. This is the sort of variety that has kept me coming back 11 times.

Why, a few in my group even got lost for a while. New English teacher Chris Otto and his wife and I were bringing up the rear with a new guide, Durana, who was on her third tour. We came to a three-way split and she had no idea where to go.

The rest of our group had moved on. We climbed straight ahead and came to a dead end. When we turned around there were two ways back. Which one had we come through? They both looked alike. We took a right turn and found ourselves at the edge of the lake, but not where we had come ashore. It was new territory.

Our helmet lights darted around the cavern like spotlights at the Oscars. We were lost and wanted the world to know.

"Hello. Help. We're lost!" I yelled.

I heard my son's voice in the distance. "We're over here," he said. We followed the sound, and then we weren't lost anymore. Whew. Variety.

Several readers in the past have said to me, "Steve, you keep talking about these darn caves, but you don't say exactly how to get there, and we're not in your club. We might want to check them out on our own. Do tell."

O.K. Here is the route: from Interstate 80 take Highway 12 east all the way to its end in San Andreas. Drive through San Andreas on Highway 49 and you'll see a big sign that says "California Caverns 9 miles. Turn left." Follow that. Bring a towel, a garbage bag, and clean clothes. The cave is 54-degrees year-round, so you can go tomorrow, or even the next day.

Let me know how you liked it.

Happy Thanksgiving.