The Alpe
Orro bike part way up Alpe D’Huez, France.
The Alpe
I sat at the dinner table, staring at my small plate of white fish, a little rice and some lettuce. I was too tired to start eating it, pushing around my plate instead.
“That’s a proper fucking climb!” My mate and colleague said, slightly outraged and surprised at what I’d just done.
“I know…” I said, picking at the fish.
“How long did it take you?” he asked.
“Fucking ages!” I replied.
As luck would have it, I was down in Annecy competing in an Olympic distance triathlon and had some time to kill afterwards. Alpe D’huez was only a few hours drive away.
I booked a campsite at Bourg D’Oisans which was conveniently right at the start of the famous climb.
Lake Annecy from the air. Shot on Insta 360 camera.
But, not before I took to the air and went paragliding in Annecy – something I had always wanted to do ever since I started visiting France as an adult in my early twenties.
Wherever you go in the French mountains, you see colourful canopies, dots in the sky, circling the thermals and gently, like leaves falling from a tree, spiralling slowly down to earth to land in some field somewhere.
In my youth I simply couldn’t afford it. Other times, I just ran out of time or couldn’t motivate the people I was with to come with me.
Free of all ties, I booked myself onto a tandem flight. Just 20 minutes, in case I didn’t like it!
View from the best seat in the house. Lake Annecy. Flights by Takamaka.
I rocked up at the flight school and a few of us piled into a minibus, packed out with parachutes and harnesses and our pilots.
We drove up the Col de Forclaz, which is one of the highest points above Lake Annecy. It looked like a half decent cycling climb until the hair pins ramped up to a ridiculous gradient and I thought better if it. We climbed higher and higher.
As we walked to the take-off ramp, the views were spectacular, and the height made you feel a bit dizzy.
My pilot was Mitch and he spoke better English than I did French. He was good looking, smoot and impressed that I worked offshore. We chatted easily and he fitted me out on my harness and helmet. We didn’t faff at all. There was no time to even think, really. I felt a tug of the parachute behind me and we took a few awkward steps back.
Then very quickly, those words again: “Allez allez, go, go, go….”
We ran a few strides then whooomph! We were up in the air very quickly. I wasn’t really ‘in’ my seat, so he quickly showed me how to lift myself into the seat properly and get comfy. He’d kindly allowed me to bring my Insta 360 camera and I started filming the incredible views as we flew up and down the tree line chatting and laughing.
Eventually we crossed the lake and after he’d let me have a go at steering, he was keen to show off his aerobatic skills.
I’m up for pretty much anything and away we went. After three big swoops where my stomach almost fell out, I had to stop. I was the kid who clung to the top of a death slide, hating that ‘dropping’ feeling. I hate roller coasters and theme parks and it’s the reason I won’t do a bungee jump or jump from a plane.
It might have been easier if I’d known what to expect or was controlling the chute myself, but either way, I decided to park the aerobatics for another day.
We had a gentle landing. “Just stand up” he said. I did, and that was it.
Encroyable!
I had also recently bought a mini drone and had lots of fun learning to fly it. I was looking forward to getting some classic shots of the Alpes.
It was a wonderful way to round off my week in Annecy and to be honest, I didn’t really want to pack up and leave, but I had plans and set off to Bourg D’Oisans.
The mountains got bigger and I could see snow on top of some of them. Then I saw some road signs ‘Alpe D’Huez’. I couldn’t believe I was really here.
Chateau Duingt, Lake Annecy. Shot with DJI Mini 4k Drone.
The campsite wasn’t as posh as the one in Annecy, but it had everything you needed and a pool, which I wasted no time jumping into. As I relaxed on the sunlounger, I could see, rising above me, the first few bends of the Alpe D’Huez before the road disappeared out of sight into the mountains. The first few bends are the steepest, averaging about 10% and it looked intimidating from my seat by the pool.
I knew I could climb it, but I also knew that real climbs are also much, much harder in real life than on the Watt bike indoor trainer.
Still recovering from the Annecy Triathlon, I decided to give myself another rest day and go for the climb on the Friday.
View from my van
Instead, I took a gentle womble around a flat route by the river to find places to fly my drone and, as ever, it turned into a complete epic!
It started out fine, passing stunning glacial lakes with unreal turquoise colours and little picnic areas. It was beautiful but I didn’t feel confident flying my drone around people, so I moved on a bit.
A little further along I found an empty parking place which was quiet. I launched the drone and captured some amazing shots of glacial lakes, rivers and mountains.
I rode on along the river and the track became covered in several places with deep sand. I wobbled to a halt and ended up ‘hike a bike’ on and off for quite a few kilometers.
Bourg D’Oisans valley. Shot by DJI Mini 4k Drone
Bourg D’Oisans valley. Shot by DJI Mini 4k Drone
Then, to my horror, I really was stopped in my tracks as the road just ended! It had been swept away by the river which crashed past in front of me.
Nope!
This meant going a little off piste and following a track mostly covered in deep sand and then a grassy path with rocks in it.
Orro Venturi does not like grass, nor lumpy tracks and I completely agree.
I ended up carrying Orro most of the way back to tarmac, boulder hopping yet another dry riverbed, sans road that had collapsed.
Back on terra firma and bumped into some Americans who had been up Alpe D’Huez that morning and were looking for an easy route to do in the afternoon.
I diverted them away from my hike-a-bike trail and they were super grateful.
I chose a Friday to go up the Alpe. Weather looked sunny but not baking hot, so blue skies were promised and I guessed there would be far fewer cyclists midweek.
After breakfast and lots of nervous faffing, I set off on the very short lead-in to the start of the climb, which was pretty much round the corner from the campsite. Not much of a warmup then.
As I started plodding up the first few bends, the steepest of the route, it became apparent that a Friday was a bad idea.
Lorry after lorry came trundling past, belching out black stinking smoke and it was relentless. There seemed to be some sort of quarry works going on up in Huez and heavy plant and vehicles passed at regular intervals.
They were respectful and clearly used to cyclists and I never felt in any danger. It just spoiled the experience somewhat.
A few other cyclists plodded by in their own time not going crazily faster than me. One set off just behind me but never passed until I stopped briefly for a breather on bend 19.
I kept plodding and the heat of the day set in. Fuelled by jelly babies, Nutella biscuits and water with dioralyte, I enjoyed the views as the hairpin bends offered views of the snow-capped Alpes. It was quite humbling to see that some of the lower bends were adorned with very high mesh fencing. These were clearly designed to catch cyclists who descend too quickly and risk plummeting off the edge of the mountain, literally.
Each of the 21 famous bends on the climb has a plaque naming previous winners of the Tour De France stage involving the Alpe.
The Alpe D’Huez climb ends at 1860 metres altitude, climbing from Bourg D’Oisans cyclists ascend 1143 metres elevation, over 14.5km distance.
The average gradient is 7.9% and the maximum, 14%.
The first landmark was the pretty church, Saint-Ferréol, on a sweeping left-hand bend 7 with a stunning mountain backdrop. There are also some facilities opposite, with fresh water to refill bidons, toilettes and recycling bins.
Climbing ever higher, you pass through a small village which gives some respite as the gradient backs off for a short while. It then picks up again as you head into the upper bends, with a little more shade and luckily, during lunchtime the road was quieter as the lorry drivers took their siesta.
Saint-Ferréol church, bend 7. Image: DJI Mini 4K drone (Christine Grosart)
I passed beneath the ski lift station, as if I needed any reminding how high I was. Just 3km to go then….
This is where the cowbells start and the marmots begin chirping. I’m not fast enough to outride the flies that seem to go for slow moving cyclists, as a refreshing change to the cattle that graze the higher slopes.
There were a few stings in the tail on the last part of the climb and I finally finished conveniantly close to a bar that was something of an anticlimax after such a classic ride.
I had a pint of lager and messaged my friend who had got me into cycling 3 years ago. I spotted some guys standing on what looked to be a podium that had been set up for anyone to have their photos taken.
Some nice ladies from New Zealand obliged and we had a laugh as I enjoyed the moment. What I was really looking forward to was the descent. Mostly facing the right way on the way down to enjoy the mountain views and with a dry road, I went as fast as I dared without needing the cyclist-catcher nets.
On top of the world
I chilled out the next day in the pool and the bar, with a quick drive up to the Alpe to shoot some video with my drone and do some jersey shopping. I rounded the day with a fabulous steak frites and rosé wine in Bourg D’Oisans, watching the world go by.
I didn’t really have any plans after that, but didn’t want to waste a day. Despite an upset tummy, I decided to cycle in the evening up Col D’Ornan. Not steep but quite long, I ignored the thunderstorm warnings and set off. Thunderstorms were usually short lived. Except this one.
A few hundred metres from the Col I couldn’t take any more. It had been steadily raining and now it was a steady, torrential downpour. Thunder clapped, water cascaded down the road and I still had quite a long descent home. It had set in for the evening. I decided that as I was alone and out on a limb, with hypothermia a reality, I’d head home. I was trashed and didn’t feel an sense of achievement at all. Lesson learned. But probably not…
Allez Allez
If I ever hear those words again, I think I’ll scream!
Orro on Lovers Bridge, Annecy.
June in France is meant to be warm, glorious weather with balmy evenings in the bar.
Sure, up in the mountains you can get the odd rumble of thunder and dramatic flash of lightening with some refreshing downpours, but it’s normally all ok by the morning.
The early heat of the sun lifts the dampness into low hanging clouds until they disperse and reveal another blue sky and sun-drenched day in this beautiful country.
But oh no, not today. Not on the day of the Olympic distance triathlon I had been training for since last August!
My first visit to Lake Annecy was after a caving expedition to the Dent De Crolles cave system in the Chartreuse. I fell in love with the warm, turquoise, clear lake surrounded by snow-capped mountains and the chilled, cosmopolitan vibe.
I returned again in 2022 to start dipping my toe into the world of triathlon and it was the most stunning place to train. With an (almost) pan flat cycling and running circuit of the lake, mountains surrounding the lake to get the climbing legs going and the fresh, clear water to get used to open water swimming – it was perfect.
I cycled up my first Col, the Col de Leschaux and was hooked.
I wondered if there was a triathlon in the area and sure enough, an Olympic distance triathlon was held each June.
This comprised a 1500m swim, finishing just beyond the classic ‘Lovers Bridge’, followed by a 40km bike which included Col de Leschaux (11.8km long/ 3.7% average / 8% max) and then a pan flat 10km run.
I set off in my van which is really a car, to Dover and it felt unusually empty with just athletics gear, a driveaway tent and my bike. I planned to stop in the champagne region of Epernay where the Municipale campsite is friendly and a safe place to stop over for a night. I arrived in good time, enough time to go for a run along the river and canal that threads its way through the Marne.
I don’t know how, but I got completely lost and ended up doing a very hot and scenic 7km. Turns out you cannot cross locks on canals like you can in the UK as they were well barriered off with large gabions.
After my ordeal, I spent the evening in the golden hour drinking a pint by the river.
The next day I loaded the van with food, wine, and pretty much all the amazing things you find in French supermarkets and drove a further 5 or so hours to Annecy. I settled in, did a quick spin on the bike and a swim in the lake and I was ready for the triathlon.
I drove into Annecy to register the day before and despite a parking nightmare, this proved a good move as the heavens opened while I was there and getting soaked and risking the bike wouldn’t have been a clever move.
The children’s race was on the Saturday, and I felt sorry for the little mites as they swam, cycled and ran their hearts out only to be met with horrible weather. They finished their races, shivering and teeth chattering, not really knowing what they had just accomplished – some were very small! Their parents yelled encouragement from the sidelines like their lives depended on it.
I smiled and felt happy for them. My mother wouldn’t even turn up for school sports day, never mind take me to anything like this.
As it turned out, the bike distance in the grown-ups’ race was more like 47km and to complicate matters, the two transition areas for bike and run were in 2 different locations! It was logistically a bit fiddly.
Mountains obscured by clouds and rain. Could have been any field in England…
I had originally booked a large apartment overlooking the lake, very close to town, thinking that camping would be too hard if I was too broken following the race. But given that it was half the distance of the Ironman 70.3, and I was infinitely fitter, plus parking threatened to be a nightmare and expensive, I opted for a very nice campsite instead down in Sevrier, close to where I had stayed before. It was right on the cycle way and short waddle to the lake for swimming.
More importantly, the campsite barrier would open for me in the morning. You have to be careful with French campsites, as often they forbid vehicle movement before 7am and locked electric gates to enforce this.
That’s a big problem if you need to be up and away before 6am for race day.
Thankfully camping L’Aloua were accommodating, and the facilities were superb.
The morning of race day was grey and drizzly. This progressed to a proper downpour. As I pumped up my bike tyres the visibility reduced so much that the mountains surrounding the lake were completely obscured by low cloud and torrential rain.
The French didn’t give a monkeys.
It wasn’t particularly cold, but rain capes and brollies came out and competitors squelched barefooted through the mud into transition.
I started to set up transition in a state of disappointment. All that time, all that training and it had come to this. My forté is descending but now I’d had to go super slowly on the wet, greasy roads to avoid crashing.
The lake had never looked so uninviting.
I racked my bike, wrapped my cycling gear in a towel hoping it would stay mostly dry and put my running gear into a bag which would be taken by the race volunteers to Transition 2 about a kilometre away for the run later.
I sat on the back bumper of my van, trying to shelter under the boot lid as I put on my wetsuit. People dressed in plastic bags wandered past and nothing was dry anymore.
We all walked slowly to the water’s edge after what seemed an eternity, waiting for the briefing. The rain had started to subside, crowds began gathering on the promenade and muddied lawns that grace the beachfront of Annecy. We gingerly stepped into the water to flush our suits, get our faces wet and fiddle with our swimming goggles. A few of us dove into the shallow, crystal-clear water and all of a sudden, the weather didn’t matter. The mountains began to appear again, and steam rose off every bit of tarmac that was wet. There was no sun, but the downpour was giving us a reprieve.
The starter arrived on a large pedalo with his loud haler. This was a mass start, but they did separate the men from the women.
“Les hommes, à droite…. Les femmes, à gauche!!!”
This didn’t help at all, as all it meant was, thousands of athletes of various speeds and abilities were destined to converge at the first, right-handed buoy before setting off across the lake into the funnel under ‘Lovers Bridge’.
This was my first mass start for the swim. I figured if I started near the front, I would be among the faster and therefore better, swimmers.
Oh, how wrong can you be!!
“Trois, deux, un…….Alleeeeeezzzzz”
Everyone threw themselves into the water and a mud churning, washing machine which resembled charge of the light brigade, ensued.
It was little more than aquatic self-defence!
First off, starting to swim was a mistake. We were being kicked in the face by people running through the silt, as the water was still really only waist deep.
I felt that I was wasting energy fighting a losing battle trying to swim beautifully amongst this chaos of all the running, staggering, falling and flapping. I stood up, defogged my goggles and got jogging until the water got deeper and people started to actually swim.
The damage was done.
I’m a reasonable swimmer, with no fear of water but my heart rate had spiked in the maelstrom, and I struggled to get it back under control.
I had also committed the cardinal sin of triathlon – I had done something new on race day. I’d switched sports bras and gone for my training bra which I use for running, to keep my assets under control!
However, I’d never swum in this sports bra, and it immediately felt tight, and I felt short of breath and tight chested. I’d never felt like that in the water before and I had to work hard to ignore everyone around me – quite difficult when you are being kicked and punched from all sides – and slow down.
I moved to the outside of the pack to get some clearer water, but it didn’t work. Some bloke, who had clearly never considered sighting, was zig zagging wildly across the pack of swimmers. He crossed diagonally in front of me no less than 3 times, both ways, and even worse, he was still going about the same speed so there was no escaping him.
I couldn’t go any faster and to slow down and lose him would spoil my own race.
The next time he crossed me he stopped me dead, and I had to bob upright to avoid another mowing down. I instinctively gave him a good hard kick to push him back in a straight line. He was completely oblivious and continued zig zagging and flapping his way wildly to the entrance of the canal, where I finally lost him.
As we entered the canal the water became shallower. I swam as much as I could, worried about cutting myself on any glass or other nasties that might be at the bottom in the thick, gloopy mud. The water turned an opaque grey, and I tried hard not to swallow any of it. We were soon at the carpeted steps and whisked onto the muddy grass by the volunteers to go and find our bikes. I pulled my wetsuit off, tucked my hat, ear plugs and goggles into a sleeve and tried to dry my feet. For distances longer than sprint I prefer to wear socks for the bike and the run. Getting wet socks on in a hurry is always stressful so I decided not to hurry. Once on, I put my cycling shoes on, then gloves, then helmet, then number belt and finally my shades – not that I needed them today!
I trotted in the slippery mud with my bike to the mount line. We set off on a fairly flat run through Annecy, lined with cheering crowds as well as holiday makers who were oblivious to a race happening, and stepped out in front of cyclists at fairly regular intervals.
Orro on Lovers Bridge, Annecy on a gentle lap of the lake after the triathlon.
It wasn’t a closed road event and whilst I got some speed up on my tri bars setting off towards Sevrier, the start of the climbing, several white vans belching black smoke decided they were going to hopscotch the riders and then brake. I decided to keep my momentum and passed both them, and the other riders in the middle of the road where I had both visibility and a clear path. It worked out to be the safest thing to do.
Leaving the carnage behind, I picked off a few more riders and felt good.
I had to make hay while the sun shone (or not) because I knew these riders would all, one by one, pass me again as we started the ascent of Col De Leschaux. And sure enough, they did.
I was heavier than most of them and putting out significantly more power than they had to in order to achieve the same thing.
There is a reason why the pro peloton looks almost emaciated. It doesn’t matter how fit or strong you are – if you are heavy, you will suck on climbs.
Despite a personal record time climbing the Col, I was left with only a few stragglers behind me. All I could do now was descend like a demon and whilst I probably wouldn’t make up the time I’d lost, I definitely couldn’t afford to dawdle. There were cut off times at various parts of the race although I’m not sure how much they were enforced. I seemed to be clear of them.
The rain had stopped, and the roads were not awash as badly as I had expected. I didn’t hang about. I took it steady on the bends but otherwise, went full gas downhill on the aero bars and punched through the irritating further climbs that spattered the remainder of the route.
We rolled back into a strange industrial estate and found a different transition area set up in a school yard. I racked my bike and swapped my cycling shoes for running shoes. I left my helmet and replaced it with my running visor and shades. As I set off at an extremely uncomfortable trot for the 10km run, I was horrified to find that the first kilometre was straight up a sharp hill, alongside traffic belching out fumes and spraying us with puddles. It was horrid and not the idyllic and flat run I’d expected along the shores of Lake Annecy. This was shortly followed by an extremely steep, cobbled descent and some very fiddly turns through the pavements of Annecy, including an underpass stinking of urine.
I didn’t feel like I was going well, despite all my training and I walked a little to try and sort my legs out and get my heart rate down. I had worked very hard on the bike and used a lot of energy which I needed for the run. I had been trying to buy myself time for the run and now I needed every minute of it. It turned out that the bike was several kilometres longer than advertised and much longer than an ‘Olympic Distance triathlon should be.
The run finally found it’s route out along the promenade, and I suddenly realised it was going to be 3 laps. This didn’t match the course that was in the athlete’s guide, which was out and back.
I hate multi-lap runs. Psychologically it is wretched, as you pass the finish line twice, or three times in this case, but cannot go down that finishing chute until the end. You also pass the same spectators who witness your struggle several times over.
At 4km I bonked. And not in a good way!
Like a car running out of petrol, I had run out of fuel, and it was instant. With all the breathless climbing and super-fast descending, I hadn’t taken on anywhere near as many calories as I needed. My little aerodynamic food pouch on the bike still had plenty of items in it that I should have eaten. I had nothing with me on the run.
I stopped at the aid station and grabbed a banana and a piece of cake. I don’t like either, but I was in trouble. I drank some water and set off again, the fire stoked, and was able to keep jogging.
By the time I got to 7km the same thing happened again and I stopped at the same aid station, again. This was definitely not how to do it.
I limped home the final 3km and felt nothing but exhaustion and disappointment at the end.
The atmosphere had been fantastic, with my French being good enough to understand what people were shouting and I was able to converse back. I enjoyed the idea of the event but didn’t particularly enjoy the event itself.
I’m still learning about long course triathlon, nutrition and of course, having to train on a ship 6 months of the year, unable to swim, has its challenges too.
But it’s easy to look at the negatives, especially if you are a fierce self critic like me. There were so many positives about this event, as it was the one I had wanted for so long.
In 2020 I learned to ride a bike and only 2 years ago couldn’t use clip in peddles. I hadn’t swum in open water in a wetsuit and couldn’t bilateral breathe until 18 months ago. My running always halted at 5km with back spasms and calf injuries, all of which had now subsided, thanks to learning new running techniques from my friends. I hadn’t used tri bars on a bike until January this year. I had achieved a lot and built the base for a lot of success in the future. I was strong for sure, but as ever, let down by my weight on the bike and run which I had struggled with ever since I was a child, wanting to be a jockey.
With everything I needed to be competitive in place, I just needed to shift those dead kilograms – easier said than done, but it will happen. Never again do I want to see people flying past me up the Col de Leschaux.
It goes without saying that I would never had got there without the daily support and hard work of my coach, fellow cave diver and 10 x Ironman, Russell Carter. I have an awful lot to thank him for. And importantly, our 100% finish record remains intact.
The French Connection
Christine on her way out of Cregols. Image: Jo Croimins
The Lot region of France, adjoining the possibly better known department Dordogne, is a mecca for cave divers.
I first visited in 2006 as a trainee cave diver and in my sidemounted 12 litre cylinders, had a blast visiting all the ‘classic’ sites such as the Emergence de Ressel, St Georges, Cabouy, Fontaine de Truffe, Source Landenouse as well as the lesser visited sites such as Emergence de Cregols.
The following year I supported Rick Stanton and John Volanthen in dragging all their gear to sump 5 in the Truffe while they pushed the end at sump 12. Subsequent trips were in a similar vein, a mixture of tourist diving, training and exploration. And of course, enjoying the wine, food and scenery the region had to offer, in addition to excellent canoeing on the rivers Celé, Lot and Dordogne.
Going on holiday to the Lot with the Cave Diving Group always leads to adventures and we always took our ropes ladders and dry caving gear to have a ‘day off’ from diving to visit the other caving systems in the region.
Despite visiting the region regularly on and off for almost 20 years, it had never once occurred to me to ride a bike there.
Now, with my newfound passion of cycling and triathlon, I was very excited about visiting such a stunning region and being able to combine my two sports on the same trip.
I was super keen to kick off with a loop of the two rivers that run through the region, the Lot and the Dordogne. Peppered with classic cave diving sites I loosely named the route ‘cave divers loop’ and the 100km mostly flat ride, took in some stunning scenery.
The first thing I noticed was that, by being on a bike, I was obviously going much slower than a car and could notice the classic French buildings nestled in the rock faces, the wildlife and the beautiful summer river ambience that you just don’t notice when you are driving to the dive site, your mind on the job ahead.
I started in Marcilhac-sur-Celé which boasts probably the most famous cave diving site in Southern France, Emergence de Ressel. That would come at the end though, as I set of in the opposite direction to do the route anti-clockwise. I passed through beautiful gorges, passed old water mills and stunning villages. I stopped halfway in Cajarc, hoping that being a Sunday lunchtime something would be open for some proper food. There were a couple of restaurants that claimed to be fully booked and I finally managed to get some nice pastries and a cold cola from the patisserie. I was never really sure if the restaurants were booked or if they just didn’t like English cyclists. I had noted a rather less than friendly tone in France since the Brexit debacle. I’m still not sure what that whole thing was meant to achieve. All it has done is made it harder to take French wine back home.
Not far from Cregols I was somewhat surprised to see the Canyon-Sram ladies pro team bus parked up. I got a bit bedevilled on directions at the roundabout and was very relieved to set off without having any clip-in fails in front of the pro peloton!
La Piscalerie. A nice (but out of bounds) dive worth doing just once.
I set off again in the glorious sunshine and it was getting rather hot as I tackled the only climb in the route. I started to flag a bit over the last 10km and was glad to see the familiar roadside cliffs which indicated the Ressel on my left. It was the first time I had seen the new car park which had been built to accommodate the ever-growing cave diving community.
Back in 2006 you would be lucky to see another car perched on the side of the road near the cave. And if you did, there was a good chance you knew the diver or had heard of them. You would undoubtably end up in a bar with them later.
Now, the car park had been built to get cave divers off the road as the line-up of multiple cars and vans was getting more and more dangerous and unfair to locals. I stopped to take a look. It was absolutely rammed.
I arrived back in Marcilhac-sur-Celé disappointed that the ice cream shop was closed, being a Sunday afternoon.
Feeling the effects of a 100km ride in the heat, I went for a lay down by the river and ate a banana. It was tranquil, apart from the toad chorus that echoed around the Celé and the sound of water rushing down the wier.
La belle France.
I took a day off and fettled my diving gear, thinking about where I’d like to go.
Diving solo isn’t very sociable but I’ve never really had an issue with it. I had got used to diving with others as it was kind of drummed into me over the last 12 years. But I was always capable of diving alone, having been brought up in UK caves where diving as a team wasn’t always possible. I found it much safer than diving with a poorly trained buddy. Poorly trained being the key words. A well trained buddy is a huge asset.
I needed some gas so drove to Gramat to get some fills from Olivair. Olivier set up the gas station just along the road from where we always used to get gas from Frenchman, Andre Grimal. I missed the spontaneous parties and BBQs we would get tangled up in waiting for gas, and the excitement of meeting and befriending other occasional cave divers you might come across at the same time. Andre would test out his homebrew Eau-de-vie on us and it was quite deadly.
I arrived but the gates were locked. He was unlikely to be gone long, so I waited. Then another car pulled up. A Belgian cave diver called Jo was also waiting for gas and we got chatting. He was here with his girlfriend but she didn’t dive, so he was also facing diving alone. It didn’t take long before we were planning dives together and I was grateful of the company.
Over the next week we had some very cool adventures, though mainly in places I had been before. I added some interest by trying to take photos and showing Jo around places he had never been, such as the Cregols. I was amazed to see other divers in there. In years gone by it was the place where you were guaranteed to be alone.
We did some touristing and photo dives in Ressel and Truffe and a disastrous fail at trying to find Combe Negre. But I was itching to get back onto my bike and try my hand at an ascent of Rocamadour. It was steep at the bottom but such an iconic climb which still had the Tour de France scrawlings all over it and inside the tunnel. I was utterly delighted to manage a clean ascent with no stopping, in the warm evening sunshine.
It had always been my plan to visit friends who lived in the south of France and I chose the middle weekend to make a foray, some four hours south, to the Herault region. My first stop of course was to Jean Tarrit in Larzac. Jean has been a friend for many years and he offered me his annexe in his chic and rustic stone house up on top of the Larzac plateau. Of course, I was invited to visit one of his local caves with his friend Philippe who I had done some surveying with several years ago. It was another surveying trip and it was nice to back on rope again. At least, it was until we met the 3rd pitch which was slathered in thick, gloopy mud which took several episodes of pressure washing to remove.
All I could hear from the 3rd pitch was lots of squelching and protests in English that it was ‘absolutely ‘orrible!!”
I decided of course, once caving was done, to go for a bike ride. I had the whole of the Herault gorge at my disposal, including the hairpin climb with stunning views that always offered the gateway to the region. The day began in glorious sunshine as I parked up at St Maurice de Navacelles. I told Jean not to worry about me and I would be fine. So he didn’t. As I climbed the really quite steep ascent above the Herault gorge the clouds started to gather and as I entered the commune de Rogues, I could hear big rolls of thunder in the hills. I got a move on but before long, I was faced with a steep, never ending descent on wet roads covered in slippery leaves and branches.
Do. Not. Crash.
The wind picked up and the heavens opened, accompanied by the intimidating claps of thunder and terrifying lightening, with a deafening crash only a nano second later which went right through me. Despite being quite warm, hypothermia was still a possibility if I stopped, now that I was totally drenched. My gilet was as much use as a chocolate fire guard. I sheltered under a tree which only threatened to fall on me, so I made haste to the next village, hiding under a shop canopy. The place was deserted. Sheets of rain and lightening carried on relentlessly and water poured in rivers down my face, my front, my back and I the visibility was reduced to a number of metres.
I made it to Gournies. I knew there was a cafe there as the rain started to ease off and steam rose from the roads and the river Herault.
I pulled up and asked if they were serving food. Perhaps a sandwich?
Non.
Coffee?
The grumpy guy nodded and in some kind of sympathy, offered me a paper napkin to dry my face. He then delivered the smallest expresso coffee I have ever seen in my life. Cheers dude.
I made it back up the climb to Saint Maurice, which was a lot easier than I imagined and drove back to jean’s place, insisting on taking him out for pizza which turned into yet another epic.
I had to get fuel for my van first, but by the time we found a parking spot and the pizza place, Jean pointed out that we might have to fill up my car again!
I almost crashed the thing laughing!
Next stop was Nimes, a couple of hours further south, to catch up with my old boss Craig Frederick. I hadn’t been to Nimes for about 20 years since my first caving trip to the Herault. It is a fabulous city and I’d really love to dive the Fontaine de Nimes resurgence one day, which currently is only accessible by the French Pompiers for training.
My final ride was a big circuit, taking in Rocamadour and out to Souillac. I was quite out on a limb but it was a cracking day and I think I found the best cycling cafe on the planet! On my way home, thanks to Komoot, I found a cracking flat ride, mostly traffic free, along the river Loire.
The beauty of travelling alone is being able to what you want, when you want and not being beholden to someone else’s plans or commitments. I ate nice food, had great bike rides, did some cave diving, made new friends and reconnected with old ones.
Life is good and I wouldn’t swap it for anything right now.
"...a nice easy flop in a resurgence..." by Richard Walker
Yesterday we went on a nice easy resurgence flop. The cave entrance is no more than 100m from the road. How hard could it be?
Trouble is, that 100m is about 20m horizontal, and 97m vertical. The cave was Gourneyras, in the Viz gorge. 20 minutes down a dirt track next to some breathtaking drop-offs where your front wheels are spitting stones off the side into oblivion, you come to a tree. Actually hundreds of trees. One of them marks the path down to the cave.
You just have to know which tree. And we sort of did, and sort of didn't. The giveaway was the steel cable-run that had been set up to transport gear down to the pool. But we were too clever to look for that. An hour later we gave up the hunting and went down the right path for a quick look. The cave was right there where we left it in 2012.
Christine decompresses in the Gourneyras
There was only 2 of us, so we had travelled light. One twinset, one rebreather, 4 stages, drysuits, undersuits and some other bags of stuff. Christine went down the track and started setting up the hand-lines that we use to stop ourselves plummeting into the oblivion. This track has just about every type of terrain you can imagine.
It starts with a steep gravel path, with some 2ft high rock steps to negotiate. Then it changes direction and traverses across the hill on a scree slope, which slips and slides under your feet. Then it goes into a gentle forest path, and you think that it isn't so bad. It's of course lulling you into a false sense of security. Next is a combination of steep mud path, brambles, eye level branches, ankle level knotweed, and some unstable pebbles. Then you break out into the sunshine again at the level of the river, and feel happy that your 100m decent is over and it must now get easier.
Now the fear starts. There is a field of unstable, slippery, weed covered boulders, just right to break an ankle. You slither and slide over these and finally arrive at the pool. Which is truly delightful. It's sparkly blue, the sunshine lights it up and the entrance to the cave beckons they eye from a depth of 6m.
Chris at 50 metres
We chained the gear down the hill, 10m steps at a time, which was significantly easier we thought, than running up and down the hill 8 times. We got all the gear down to the pool in about 90 minutes, and were pleased with ourselves.
Gear assembled, camera checked and we were off. The 32C air temperature was oppressive, and it was great to get into the 13C water. We hung about on the surface for a few minutes just to relax and get that hot-and-bothered feeling gone, and then began our dive. The entrance is obvious at a depth of about 6m, and we dropped our decompression cylinders at 6m, and swam into the cave. It starts with a 45 degree, stepped drop into the cave. Lots of boulders and rocks are all around, and you soon come to the 21m dropoff, convenient for leaving the second decompression cylinders.
Now the cave gets interesting. There's a large circular room as you descend, almost impossible to see from one side to the other. The walls are white, but the place sucks up light. If you look back now, from a depth of about 40m, you see the blue entrance above you. More about that later. Now, you arrive on a pebble floor, and the passage turns sharply to the left, under a huge overhang.
You're now at about 50m depth, and in a passage like a railway tunnel. Bigger actually. It's probably 30m wide and 20m high. There are beautiful scalloped formations of the floor, sharp knives of rock 10m across on the floor, and air-clear visibility. Again, it's hard to see across the tunnel, and I had travel all over the cave tunnel to see it, and still didn't see it all! After about 10-15 minutes, it was time to turn, and I turned on the camera, lit the lights and started to shoot some stills. Light was getting sucked up and to get any sort of perspective was difficult. The thought of some new 4000 Lumen lights has started to hit my radar. Hope the bank manager isn't reading this...
I shot some half decent pictures of Christine, and by 30 minutes we were back at the corner to start heading back up the slope. Here is where you get your first real view of the entrance. 50m deep, looking uphill to a turquoise blue window into the fresh air. You can see the green trees around the pool, it's an amazing sight.
We worked our way up the slope, taking pictures, swapping cameras, managing the decompression for the next hour - way more time than we need, but it's a beautiful place, we had the gas, a camera and no pressing engagements that evening. After a 90 minute dive, we surfaced to some French ramblers, who informed us that they also dived there, and had we seen the view from 30m of the surface pool. They didn't offer to help us carry our gear back though, for some reason.
We got out of our gear, relaxed for half an hour and started the long haul back to the road. Only 100m away, most of it vertical, back through the ankle breakers, up the forest mud path, across the scree slope and up the stone steps. PFO test formally passed.
As the light faded, we realised we needed to make tracks if we wanted to eat that night. We headed to Laroque as they have a row of tourist trap restaurants. Takeaway pizza. But it was past 9pm when we got there. "Fini" came the reply from the chef.
No discussion. We had spied a caravan that had "pizza" written on the side, a mile back down the road, so we headed back there, and to our delight, he cooked us 3, Yes 3, pizzas in about 20 minutes flat. Joy of Joy, he also sold us 2 Pelforth Blondes.
Life is good on a day like that!
Not every donut has a hole in the middle...
We had long had an invitation from the French caving club to dive a new sump which was very close to the Foux de la Vis. The group, as ever, helped carry our kit in the heat and set about the entrance of the dry cave with explosives to make passing the gear a little easier.
We had a little information on the sump and in our usual plan of attack, added a little helium to our larger bottles and took some oxygen along too, so that we had all angles covered. In exploration, you never know what the cave will do – if it will go deeper, if it will surface, if it will close down or open up in to caverns measureless to man.
We knew that someone had been in there before but had very little information on how it ended.
We lowered the cylinders through a boulder choke and kitted up in a narrow rift.
I set off surveying the existing line in very poor, milky visibility (barely 2 metres) and Rich went ahead to try and find the way on.
We came across all sorts of different lines, one of which had broken and was heading back towards the entrance. We spent some time cleaning this up and very shortly came to the end of the line. It was only at a depth of 21m and some 36 metres surveyed distance.
We had a good poke about in rifts below and above but they were too tight and definitely not worth pursuing. I stuffed Rich into one with the line reel and he laid about 8 metres before climbing back towards me, shaking his head.
The team got the gear out in good time, in between eating lunch and drinking red wine, which had clearly been smuggled past their wives that morning in coca cola bottles……
The walk up hill was hot and my ankle didn’t like it, but we were soon at the café in St Maurice de Navacelles drinking cold beers while I entered the survey data and produced a stick map.
D-Day in the Perdreau
I would be lying if I said I wasn't just a bit nervous or under pressure the night before this dive.
Our last attempt was thwarted by my failed attempt to pass the almost vertical rift in zero vizibility, which we now realised was due to a very loose, sloppy polyprop line. We had made attempts to fix it, but ultimately, it needs to come out and a heavy line put in.
We had a quick breakfast and drove over to the parking spot to meet the French from the CLPA, who were keen as ever to help us.
Beautiful hills are the backdrop to our expedition
After a lot of banter and greetings, Jean, Etienne and three others offering surface support, set off to the cave entrance and shifted the gear through the small boulder choke. this consisted of a pair of 12s, a pair of 15s, two deco bottles of oxygen, and 4 7litre bottles for Jarvist and Tim. plus all sundry bits and bobs you need for diving, like masks, fins and regs etc.
We embarked on a mammoth lowering session which involved pulley cars and 'staged' people but it worked fantastically and all the gear was at the bottom of the pitch in not much more than an hour from leaving the surface.
Rich and I dived to the airbell and Jarvist and Tim did an excellent job of helping us unkit and carefully pulling our big bottles up the slope, to get them ready for re-kitting in sump 2.
I got into the water first and with a little help, managed to kit back up again in the narrow rift and float around a bit, trying to keep warm whilst Rich went through the same process. We were handed our deco bottles and had agreed to get them to the other side of the 'annoying flop'. Sump 2 is a very short dive to another airbell which is passable by belly flopping over a narrow rock bridge which gets in the way. We passed our deco bottles over this and I found a good place at 6m to drop them, quite close to airspace.
We set off with the intention of picking up my line reel from where Oz and Joe had left it last year. The cave appeared to be going deeper, but on recent inspection, it may stay at -30m for a while at least.
Sump 1 in perdreau-Fourmi
We set off along the rift and the viz had cleared from our last dive a little, but it was not perfect despite being given 2 days to settle.
We continued for a while and were both very surprised to meet an upwards line into airspace. Somehow we had overshot the junction which takes us to the 'new' line. Confused, we went back on ourselves and realised that, in our efforts to avoid the appalling floating polyprop line which had taken off into the roof of the rift, we had swum past the clothes pegs and other general tatt. Even more surprising was that the floating line had hidden itself so far up into the roof, it was quite an effort to pull it down and put it back into the downwards rift which was looking empty.
Jean Tarrit - my hero!
We made several attempts to fix it but ultimately, polyprop sucks and it will be coming out next time.
We continued on the correct path, having wasted a few minutes.
Original survey which we extended quite a lot
Geologists! Apparently it would be good if we were to head south west and not north if at all possible!!
We very soon came across the 'new junction' and set off along Oz and Joe's line. I surveyed the last leg whilst Rich untied the line reel that had sat quiet for a year and once I had underlined the numbers in my wetnotes, Rich turned to me, reel at the ready and smiled an 'Ok?' I nodded and we set off along beautiful rift passage, horizontal and about 30m depth, dipping to 34m temporarily. The rock was sharp, pale, sculptured and pretty. the passage was 10m high and 2m wide at the widest part.
Rich made a lovely, tight line with good tie offs and I bimbled along behind, counting knots, recording the depth and the compass bearing. It was heading north and all I could think of was that poor geologist who was desperate for the cave to go in the opposite direction!
The thing is, it might yet as it has already done one weird corkscrew and we emptied the reel as the rift started to close down - a sign maybe that we should be looking elsewhere now for the continuation.
The Coudouliére is known to connect from dye tracing and that cave corkscrews considerably before settling on a path - and it goes deep. It currently lies at 1650m long and 100m depth.
We looked at the floor nervously waiting for it to engulf us into the depths - but it never did. It just started to pinch up and Rich was getting itchy feet in large 12 and 15 litre bottles. The reel emptied at just the right time.
Surfacing from sump 1
We dived back in appalling vizibility which was very patchy and were relieved to get back to our deco bottles at 6m with no deco incurred. We had spent 36 minutes in the sump with an average depth of about 20m.
We returned to expectant sherpas and delivered the empty reel and Rich was pre-occupied with the fact that he found his long lost halcyon knife!! We were helped out of the water and out of our cylinders by Jarv and Tim.
I was absolutely freezing - I had somehow managed to be the first in the sump and the last out - so I got an extra 10 minutes of coldness either end! We climbed out and I was generously given something sugary by the resident diabetic. He'll live! (probably).
We had a shivery dive out. I went ahead and Rich followed, exiting the sump at a rate of knots even I found alarming! Clearly he wanted out! We changed into warm fleecy caving undersuits - the posh element changed into fourth element underclothes!
We started packing up and getting gear ready for hauling and we were out of the cave, with our gear back at the car, by 6pm!! Unbelievable! Many thanks to the gang for their help - Elaine, Duncan and Gerick turned up later in the evening to help on the surface as well.
We retired to the campsite to shower and get tarted up for an evening meal in St Jean de Buéges - a timely place - but devoid of champagne :-(
The chic St Jean de Bueges
Disappointment and spiders
Nathan couldn’t be around today, but Elaine and Duncan kindly agreed to come and help us shift gear into the Perdreau and their help was very much appreciated. Within a couple of hours, all of our gear was assembled at the sump base and Oz and Joe were getting ready to dive.
Osama prepares to dive in the Perdreau-Fourmi
The existing survey of the Perdreau (Siphon Nord – North Sump) gets a bit flaky at sump 2. It is merely reported to be 100m long with a maximum depth of -18m. Oz and Joe were to go in and survey the sump properly with station depth, direction and distance and to survey as much of the new line as they could.
They dived a pair of 7l ‘safety’ bottles through sump 1 to allow divers to start sump 2 on fresh cylinders and also to add a bit of safety for the return journey back through sump 1 incase a diver had a problem or a cylinder go down which was unfixable.
The water is cold and we were in wetsuits, so hanging about in the cold water because of a problem wasn’t really an option here.
Joe adjusts to CDG style diving!
Joe and Oz came back with survey data confirming what we had hoped for. The length of sump 2 was indeed 100m and the new line was in addition to that. They managed to survey the first 10m of their new line before gas and cold turned them back.
Meanwhile, Rich and I sat huddled up at sump base, kitted up in wetsuits and wrapped up in suit bags and oversuits to keep warm while we waited over an hour for them to return.
After a moment of worry and ‘what happens next’ planning, Rich and I were about to leave the dive base to go and get warm on the surface and hatch an action plan when their lights could be seen returning back to dive base.
They were so cold they could barely speak – but they had done an awesome job of painstakingly surveying the sump until the new line and a third of that too.
Joe writes:
“We dived through Sump 1 with the aim of re-surveying the existing line in order to provide data on the position of the start of the new line laid in the previous dive. Although the existing line was tagged, this was very loose in places and so each section between belays was measured with a measuring stick along with depth and azimuth information.
The full data will be added to the survey held by Nathan Boinet, however the junction with the new line was measured at 83m from the start of Sump 2 putting the total distance (including the new line) at around 121m. Gas reserves prevented the full survey of all of the new line, however its overall length (from knots and tags) as well as trending direction was noted from the previous dive.
A possible further new passage was briefly investigated on the return through Sump 2 which, from the general direction and type of passage (matching the one in which the divers had laid new line) was thought might bypass the rift to connect with the new passage.”
Then it was mine and Rich’s turn to dive and hopefully extend the line in the new passage. We both had a whiff of trimix in slightly bigger cylinders to aid with the depth and clear thinking in cold water.
We warmed up and kitted up, before setting off through sump 1 without issues. We climbed out of the water and got fairly quickly into sump 2. As we set off, it was obvious that the visibility hadn't settled since our last dives here and Oz and Joe surveying had inadvertently stirred it some more.
The rift half way through the sump is narrow and it's impossible to dive through it, never mind survey it, without touching the walls which expel a powder-like dust which hangs in the water and doesn't move on as there is no flow here.
I dived through what I thought was the rift and met the junction with the airbell. I turned downslope and was now in completely zero visibility. I felt uncomfortable as the line was very, very loose in my hand and there seemed to be miles of it and no belays.
Entrance to the Perdreau-Fourmi - always smaller than we remembered!
I'm used to diving in zero visibility and it never worries me - unless the line is so poor that following it blind becomes dangerous.
At that moment, my hand followed the line into a pile of boulders and seemed to be snaking in amongst them. I couldn't feel any space around me or ahead of me and I knew the line had gone into a line trap, pinched between boulders, possibly metres from the actual way through.
I'm not playing this game! I've been here before, upside down in a boulder choke in zero viz, following slack line, with the clock ticking, only that time I was in Wookey 25 and I was trying to get home....
Not today.
I figured if I couldn't find my way into the cave, there was even less chance of finding my way out. I couldn't see what the line had done to even attempt fixing it. I backed upslope and tried to turn around. I could hear Rich bearing down on me and I felt around for his thumb and pulled it. He got hold of my thumb and pulled it back, indicating that he understood my signal to go home.
We learned a lot from this dive. With little or no flow, the cave does not clear while divers are in there so our only hope from now on is to fix that line and make it followable in the worst visibility, which is the first job for our next attempt at the project in 2012.
Disappointed, but certain that I had made the right decision, we left the cave and just managed to get all the gear out before dusk.
But not without drama!
Oz got half way through the boulder choke and I was close behind when I heard the most blood-curdling scream! Oz was wailing like a girl and I thought he'd either been squashed by a rock or had met a 'vipére' or something.
No, there was a "f***ing tarrantula" in the boulder choke and Oz was face to face with it!
I tried to belittle it with sentiments of "It's only a cave spider" and "It can't be that big"...
Anyway, I got into the choke myself and OMG!!! It was not only huge, but extremely ugly. It's eyes were shining and everything!
We scared it away - which took some doing - this thing wasn't scared of anybody…It didn't scurry or scuttle like normal spiders..this thing crawled. It was disgusting!!
We managed to get back for tea and medals and Rich and I declared that we wanted another day off tomorrow to sit on the beach, swim and sunbathe and do the square root of bugger all!
Abime de Mas Raynal
It occurred to me that I hadn't been to this wonderful cave since about 2003. I was very much looking forward to rigging it this time, rather than being pushed back behind 'some bloke' who always assumed that it was a man's job. Bollocks to that, I say.
Suntan rigging the Mas raynal super direct route on my 3rd ever SRT trip.
In 2002, on only my 3rd SRT trip, I went 'over the edge' and did the main hang or 'super direct' route which is 106 clean metres straight off a rusty iron bar in broad daylight on a single rope.
The only interruption is a re-belay some 30m from the crashing river below.
Abseiling the multi pitch route in the Mas Raynal
The water heads North West to Source du Sorgues and is typically blue and cold.
The multi-pitch route is friendlier and has some snaggy, slimy green slopes on route to the final hang.
It is partially P-hung and partially requires spits and hangers - so it's advisable to take some hangers.
Ashley, my CDG trainee, wanted to do the main hang on 8mm. He rigged it but only ascended it and used our ropes on the way down.
The 'window' 3/4 of the way down the mas Raynal indirect route. Image: Christine Grosart
The cave is like Alum Pot on speed. I think it is a little bigger in dimensions but the main hang is about the same.
Sunlight pours down the main shaft and the chilly gloom of the massive side inlet makes for some great silhouette photos.
Mas Raynal super direct. Image: Christine Grosart
Recce Day
Tuesday and D-Day!
It was time to see what Oz and Joe had done with my line reel in the passage Rich and I found last year, and on Oz's advice, to check it really was still going before we threw a big team and trimix at it.
We were very lucky to have Jean Tarrit and Claudine from the CLPA come along to help us underground and they did a great job of getting everything down to the sump's edge in under an hour.
Jean and Claudie
Jarvist and Tim set off into the sump wearing equipment I am too young to have ever seen before....but it seemed to work as they crossed the sump, tidied the line so that it was tight and immaculate and they preserved the visibility well.
Rich and I were to follow about 30 minutes later to give them a chance to rig a ladder to make climbing out of sump 1 much easier and to place a few bolts for ropes and general helpful tatt.
They did a great job and Rich and I kitted up whilst Jean and Claudine went up the ropes to get warm and get lunch.
We crossed the sump easily and had the luxury of walking straight up the ladder fully kitted without breaking sweat and straight down into sump 2.
Chris on the exit of sump 1
We dived to the end of the line, surveying last years new passage again as we went and hit 30m depth and my line reel.
The line had been beautifully laid by Oz and Joe and the reel was well tied off at the end.
I shone my cave hunting torch down the ongoing passage and could see large cave ongoing for at least 20m. Satisfied, we cleaned up and left, very much looking forward to the return trip on Friday, to allow the viz to settle after a couple of days.
Caverns Measureless
A good day out…
We met up with Nathan as planned at 10am in the car park closest to the cave. He had brought a friend along to come and help, called Mario. Mario is 25, a new member of the CLPA and was clearly being given some sort of induction involving carrying diving gear half a kilometre in the heat – none of which was his!
Nathan explained that he was the first person to dive the first sump in this cave 15 years ago!
Passing dive grear through the entrance boulder choke - which is full of spiders…
We made it to the entrance with a bit of prickly bush bashing and a shin-bashing dry riverbed. Here, we gathered kit by the entrance and sent Nathan ahead to check that the boulder choke was safe (he was concerned that the winter floods might have caused it to move and become unstable). He called up that it was and we followed, ferrying ten 7 litre cylinders, 5 divers wetsuits, equipment and lead (top tip – unless you are all diving at once, share lead!!!!) fins etc and a bolting kit and rope, in case it was needed for the climb out of the water at the end of sump 1.
Rich and I were to dive first and see how far we could get. It is reported that the winter floods rip the line out of these sumps, so we had plenty of line ready to go in and loads of snoopy loops for belays, if required.
Underwater sump 2 in Perdreau-Fourmi. Image: Christine Grosart
A line was tied off at dive base and water levels were extremely low. We passed all the equipment down the ropes and Rich and I kitted up in 7mm wetsuits and sidemount gear with a little buoyancy and set off into sump 1. This is 70 metres long and has a maximum depth of 21 metres. The sump was crystal clear with a blue tint as many of these Herault sumps have. Nathan followed five minutes behind with the bolting kit and rope.
The line was there…..but very slack and we took in metres and metres of loose line. It had been laid in zig zags across the passage and every belay except one had come free. We tied up the loose stuff as best we could and surfaced in a large air chamber with the reported climb in front of us. A thick rope was already in place, to our relief and we climbed up the rock face to land on a ledge above. We started down the jagged rock through some holes which led to the start of sump 2. Again the line was in place, but this time was much slacker and was combined with old, French washing line. I tried to tie some of it together in case the visibility was decreased on the way home
We flopped into sump 2 and very soon surfaced in a bit of an airbell with the continuation ahead. Annoyingly, this meant a brief excursion above water, crawling on hands and knees and falling face first into the water on the other side of a rock barrier. Rich dived in front and I couldn’t help but giggle through my regulator as I watched this GUE technical instructor, our lord and master, crawling on his hands and knees then wallowing unceremoniously, helmet and all into the water face first, fins waggling in the air. You had to be there……
Rich dived ahead with the line reel and, after a narrow rift, soon came across the end of the white French dive line. It was tied off to a rock spike pinnacle and the line was wrapped around it several times, almost in a statement. Here we go……
Rich tied my line reel into to line and began to pay out line into the rift ahead. It was a narrow, inclined 45 degree rift and I deployed my extreme-tek backup torch to spot the way on. This long, narrow beam hunted out a widening in the passage lower down whilst Rich searched for tie-offs as he went higher. He indicated to me to tie the line off as he went and two belays later, the viz started to go. Ten metres of progression and I could hear, but not see, Rich scrabbling and scraping ahead and not finding anything to tie the line to, he wriggled back towards me. I fended off waggling fins and coiled up loose line, whilst Rich began to reel back in towards me and gave me a thumbs up and ‘turn around’ signal. I pulled a snoopy off a rock and the rock simply broke in two and fell off the wall. The whole cave is made up of porous, fragile and friable rock which simply won’t tolerate interference.
We dived back on thirds and I kicked on ahead looking for a better way on as I simply didn’t believe that this nasty rift could be it. I got ahead of Rich and deployed my extreme-tek cave spotting torch and carefully examined the wall to my right. I noticed a pile of boulders a bit above me and, using Rich on the line as a lighthouse, swam up and over to have a look. I shone my torch down a large, ongoing railway tunnel of a passage which was ongoing as far as my torch could penetrate – at least 20 metres. There it was. The lost way on was stretching out in front of us. I signalled to Rich and he came over to have a look and we stared at each other in amazement.
Then, Rich tapped his watch and I tied two snoopy loops onto the line and built a rock cairn to signal to Joe and Oz where to tie their line off and we set off home.
We surfaced between sumps 1 & 2 to explain to Nathan what we had found. I stumbled over my French in excitement but he got the idea! Nathan had surfaced in the airbell found by the British team 3 years ago and confirmed it as a ‘cloche’ – closed off airbell.
We all dived back to base and Oz and Joe kitted up. I gave them very clear instructions and directions about what we had found and what to look for. We left the line reel for them in between sumps 1 & 2.
Meanwhile, Rich and I got changed into something more comfortable and began hauling gear with the help of Nathan, back up the pitches. We got everything except Oz and Joe’s kit out of the cave by the time they returned.
They had tied into the line at the cairn and set off down the railway tunnel – which Joe declared was far bigger than any railway tunnel he had seen – and laid 36 metres of new line to a depth of 30m where gas reserves turned them around.
Osama and Joe kit up in sump 1
We hauled their gear out and began the soul destroying task of getting kit back to the cars which ended in doing so by torchlight as the moon rose steadily.
The day by far exceeded our expectations and a return trip this week is planned to resurvey sump 2 from scratch, as Nathan does not have proper data - and survey the new line and add some more, having decanted as much trimix into exploration bottles we can, in case it goes deeper.
Nobody wants to do deco in this cave in wetsuits.
![Push [Poŏ SH] - by Rich Walker](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/652d025f8e316238da9f6267/1701721593090-NQBMIM6BSQVV3174KHML/file_1440x1080_014833.jpg)
Push [Poŏ SH] - by Rich Walker
It sounds a bit silly really. To push a cave. A cave is an empty void, and difficult to push in the conventional sense like you would push a car that won’t start. Pushing a cave means, to the cool kids, to extend the limit of exploration. To go further in that cave than anyone has been before. You have to be careful here as it is very easy to sound like you are lost up your own arse. I suppose that would need some sort of pushing to rectify as well.
Kit stash at the bottom of the pitch in Perdreau-Fourmi
The Perdreau Formi is a bit of everything in a cave sense. It starts with an awkward boulder choke at the entrance. For the uninitiated, a boulder choke is a pile of rocks, stuck and hopefully wedged in the passage of a cave. We are fortunate that this choke is normally dry, so we can get through it without dive gear. This often involves some pushing as well, but more like what you would do with a car. Or a turd.
Once you have got past the choke, you arrive in a large chamber at the top of a 45degree slope. The slope is slippery, but manageable. We put a rope on it though and descend down the slope well protected as at the end of the slope is a vertical drop, 20m high. If you were to loose your footing on the slope and fall off, you might be lucky to land in the sump with a splash, but you would probably bang on a few rocks on the way down, and more likely splatter somewhere in the boulder strewn area at the bottom. You might survive, but then you’d be faced with being pulled up the 20m pitch, up the slope and pushed (there’s that word again) through the boulder choke again.
Tim Webber and Jarvist Frost had done a fantastic job sorting out the vertical section of this cave. They had built a system of tensioned lines, pulleys, hauling lines and brakes that would have looked good on a Spanish galleon. Moving the equipment up and down the pitch was considerably easier than the brute force methods we’d employed last year, and made the trip run significantly faster.
Christine kits up in sump 2
The sump at the bottom of the pitch is well lined, and normally clear. We dived it last year and it was a short, but very pretty trip. The walls are white and the water has a blue tinge to it. The passage twists around, through an easy restriction to a maximum depth of 19m, where it comes up steeply into a large airbell.
It takes about 5 minutes to cross this sump, whereby you are faced with a steep wall 3m tall, at about a 70degree incline. The way on is this way. Climbing the wall is precarious, but manageable with small cylinders. The second sump is found on the other side of this wall at the bottom of a couple of round pots.
Tim and Jarvist had been hard at work in the airbell too. They had installed for us a wire ladder to climb the wall, a gear line to clip off bigger cylinders and similar assistance on the descent into sump 2. This was to be critical when we returned later in the week.
Junction formed by Christine in 2011 when she discovered the way on in the Perdreau-Fourmi sump 2
Diving in the second sump, the line is not so good. It is often loose, and many belays have come free, so the first dive this year was to check the state of this line, effect some repairs and to have a quick look to the end of the line laid by Joe Hesketh and Osama Gobara on last years project. Their line was excellent and the reel was there waiting for our return. The line ended at a depth of 29m.
The passage had dropped down 20m from the tie-in on the main line and we had been concerned about the cave heading into deep water. Spending a few minutes looking at the way on was time well spent, as it seemed that the passage levelled off, at least for as far as we could see. This was good news to us - shallow means more time exploring and less decompression.
Christine and I had a chat back at the surface about our decompression strategy. We had expected the cave to head deeper much more quickly than would now appear, which would require a more significant decompression strategy - this in simple terms meant a lot of decompression gas was needed.
Given our look at the end of the line, we decided not to pull in the big decompression cylinders, and stick with a smaller volume of oxygen, for use at 6m, rather than the big cylinder of 50% nitrox for 21m decompression. This was a gamble, but would make the logistics significantly easier. For our return dive to “push” the cave, we had mixed gas for a maximum of 60m in two large 15 & 12L cylinders each, and a small 5L cylinder filled with oxygen for decompression. We were diving in wetsuits, which in 11C water would be a push on a longer dive, but as long as we limited the dive time to an hour, we figured we’d be OK.
New passage from 2011 explorations
On the day of the dive, the gear went in very smoothly with assistance from Jean Tarrit and friends from the CLPA. These people have been so good to us in our efforts here, and never fail to turn up to help out. It’s not always the same people though, so maybe word is getting out ;-) All we needed to haul in was the cylinders, the deco gas and the wetsuits, as we’d left all of the other gear in after the first dive.
Chris and I dived through sump 1 and were ably assisted by Tim and Jarvist, and we pushed and they pulled our heavy cylinders up the rope to the start of sump 2. Kitting up in sump 2 was a bit more awkward, but again our helpers did a sterling job of pushing us into the water ready to dive. The oxygen was handed down, and we set off.
After depositing the oxygen at a suitable place to do the deco, we headed off down the line. This had come loose again and floated into the ceiling (I hate blue polyprop). We missed the junction as it had itself floated into and behind a crack in the ceiling, and we arrived at the old end of the line. Very puzzled, we backtracked, and this time spotted the junction, more visible from the other angle. We still weren’t pushed for time, so we headed off to the end of the line. Pushing on through a patch of low visibility left from our dive 3 days previously, we soon came across the start of Joe and Osama’s line. Junction marked, and away we went, soon reaching the reel that had been waiting a year for our return.
I picked it up, and looked at Chris. She had her survey gear out, and we exchanged an OK and we started to swim. I like to keep the number of tie offs to a minimum, and if possible to have spotted the next one before I leave the current one. This makes the surveyors job much easier, as the line doesn’t wave around, and tying off takes time, slowing down the act of pushing. The cave made this pretty easy, as it soon turned from large open passage into a narrow rift, 2m across at an angle of about 45degrees.
It was probably 20m high in places, pale walls with delicate mineral veins extending from the rock. It was pretty silty, and as usual in places less well travelled, percolation from your bubbles traveling up the walls quickly reduced the visibility, meaning that constant motion is preferable. I put in 6 tie-offs before the reel was empty, a total distance of around 50m. Looking ahead, the rift appeared to get narrower, although probably passable. My gut tells me that there is something else though. Maybe it surfaces at the top of the rift, or perhaps there is another connection we have missed along the new line.
I glance at Christine thimb the dive. She returns the compliment and we head for home, 25 minutes after leaving the airbell. Now it was time to see how well my line was laid and whether it was easy to follow in low visibility. My ability to write the blog says that it was good enough, I suppose.
We got back to the oxygen and given that the dive had not gone anywhere near as deep as expected, decided to not bother with any decompression and get back to the warm. We surfaced at around 40 minutes, with an empty line reel, my knife that I had found after loosing it on the first dive and a full survey of the line we’d just laid. A proper good day out!
Chris holds up the empty line reel.
The secret cave
Before I go into details of our dive here, I should stress that this cave is not for public access and is indeed the water source for the town of Millau. Permission is required to dive here and we obtained this through a friend and a French cave diver before visiting the cave. Illegal dives here are quite likely to spoil ongoing attempts to reach an agreeable solution about diving the source, hence I have withheld its whereabouts.
The plan was to video the cave and as a result, will offer any footage we have to the local speleo activists to use in their quest to demonstrate how important divers are in the protection of caves and scientific hydrological research. At the end of the day, we are the only ones who can actually see what goes on under the water, under the rock, in the dark.
We drove almost 2 hours on nothing but winding roads and stunning gorges until we reached the village and after a little inventive French speaking and some friendly locals, located the source. We parked up but our French guide, Mehdi, was not there. Worried, I made a few calls back home to some friends who knew him but there were no such worries, as he showed up minutes later, having been diving in the Font d’Estremar all day!
We began carrying kit to the cave and we spoke to Mehdi in our best going out French and he spoke to us in pretty good English. He was to dive with us and both Rich and Joe had video cameras.
Joe's trailer, including the secret cave.
Due to gas logistics (there are no filling stations down here, so all trimix was pre-filled, as were deco gases – the rest is to be topped off by the compressor, courtesy of the Derbyshire Section CDG) Rich and I dived sidemounted as these were the only ‘backgas’ cylinders we had left which could be used, the rest still full of 15/55 for next week.
So we dived on 60m gas to reach pretty much the terminus of this cave, which ends in a jumbled, jagged breakdown choke at -65m.
The journey there however, was spectacular. Clive Westlake, my ex-CDG mentor was the last person to dive here 4 years ago and prior to that, the last diver had been in the cave no less than 8 years ago. And it showed.
Our exhalation bubbles sent bits of conglomerate and chert raining down on us and wafting past the video cameras. Anything you touched simply broke off in your hand so we dived it with kid gloves. The entrance is a narrow rift and we dropped off our deco bottles as we followed the winding, ‘diaclase’ (maze) to the head of a shaft.
I’ve seen some impressive underwater shafts, some pretty famous, but this was one of the more pretty and intricate ones. Mehdi dived a Megdalon ‘recycleur’ and stealthily crept along behind us, grinning in awe at the view he was presented with, descending above Rich with his double 18W filming lights, above me with my HID… he said it was pretty amazing! The visibility was infinite and sparkling blue.
I saw the line snaking off towards the breakdown terminus and thumbed the dive at 59.9m. We had a nice ascent and Mehdi began chatting to me through his RB and I felt obliged to waffle some crap in French back!!
We picked up our deco gases and Rich filmed Mehdi down some side passage while I wrestled with getting an ali stage clipped off to sidemount 12s, all the while feeling a bit underweighted; I soon realised that this was due to a sticking wing inflator valve which was filling my ‘Scoff-Bag’ at a rate of knots. Giggling at my stupidity for not noticing it sooner, I told Mehdi I was fine and that I would deal with the simultaneously freeflowing regulator later……
Such annoyances don’t spoil a great dive like this though and we surfaced at dusk, waffling in barely coherent Franglais at how good it was and how worth the drive etc etc.
I asked Mehdi if he would please join us for dinner, or a beer at least. One step ahead, he produced a bottle of delicately balanced local white wine which had been cooling in the resurgence all the while!!
We waited for the others to surface and giggled uncontrollably as they had stuck true to form, getting totally lost and taking the wrong line and ending up in some shit-hole about 0.5m high and full of mud, unable to turn around etc. They did make it to the deep in the end but they won’t live it down as it’s not the first time either!
The stars started to come up over the gorge and the white limestone cliffs were lit by the moon and we tore down the gorge after Mehdi who showed us to a very welcome pizza restaurant and made sure we were looked after.
An absolutely awesome dive, great company and a superb evening. Days don’t get much better than this. Thankyou guys.
A Grotty Sergent
Rich wanted a day off. So I took him caving!
Grotte du Sergeant. Image: Christine Grosart
Somehow over the last decade I have managed to avoid this very pleasant little cave. I must have misread the instructions because 300m walking later we had not found a 'large porch' - or anything resembling a cave.
This is not unusual. I have been up many garden paths, gum trees and on several spectacular wild goose chases in this region. It is hot, scrubby bush bashing and the best you can hope for is some sort of cairn, bit of paint (which could mean anything really - like, a really long GR route.....) or a couple of contradictory arrows painted on trees.
There was some pleasant scrambling on grippy limestone river bed with dried up plunge pools and lots of lizards, before we finally got to a 'combe' where we couldn't go any further - the cave had to be here.
It was - a vertical but not difficult scramble up the cliff face!
Once in the cool entrance, we wandered off down pretty but not spectacular dry fossil cave with a sandy floor. It probably does resurge in exceptional weather, but it hadn't in a very long time.
I took the opportunity to take some photos with my new camera and see how I got on. I'm reasonably happy with them, especially given there were only two of us.
I get the feeling this is the Herault's version of 'Goatchurch' - but much nicer and would be a good starter cave for any led groups I bring here in the future. It has nice little climbs, abseils to protect the vertical bits and pretties. Plus a great view from the entrance.
Well worth the afternoon out.
Perdreau set-up day
I decided that embarking on Garrel today would be a silly move. Still with remains of a chest infection, the caving trip, though moderate, is quite long and I am still quite weak, so we decided that the Perdreau-Fourmi was a more pleasant option.
True to form, Jean Tarrit rallied a few friends from his club and they arrived to help us carry our gear in two journeys up the riverbed.
I headed through the entrance squeeze and into the cave to start rigging the 45 degree slope and 15m pitch to the sump pool.
I decided to bring walkie talkies this time and was quite surprised that I was able to communicate from the sump pool to the surface!
Job done in a few hours, I headed over to the Source de Bueges, which sadly cannot be dived. Some pretty dragon flies were in residence.
We had some nice cold pressions at the local watering hole in St Jean-de-Bueges and headed back to the campsite to sort out cameras and have dinner.
Gear stash at the bottom of the pitch in Perdreau Fourmi.
Into the Blue
New cave passage in the Event de Perdreau Fourmi, discovered 2012, Screen grab: Christine grosart
Today was an excellent day - but not without a few teething troubles to get around first.
I picked up a missed call from one of my work colleagues, who was asking where I was. France, was the reply. It seems the great shift screw up had raised its ugly head again, but I doubt I have much to worry about as I am certain I booked this leave. In fact, I booked it in January. So, I tried to forget about it and concentrate on the cave diving.
We headed up to the cave and Jean had brought more friends along to help us. They were practising their SRT in the cave which seemed as good a reason as any to come along.
Jean and Claudie helping in the dry cave
Rich and I dropped the pitch and started to get our gear together. Next problem, Rich finds the team spare mask has shattered into hundreds of tiny pieces. It had been in a pocket on one of the harnesses and not protected by a French Pot and had somehow got broken. Never mind. We can live without it and we have another anyway.
The sump is blue and inviting. I get the camera ready and Jean and friends watch us set off into sump 1, before heading out to the sunshine to await our arrival. We tell them we will be 2 hours at most.
Surfacing in the airbell shortly after passing sump 1, Rich and I can't really get our act together and we soon notice a little panting going on. Carbon dioxide. Great.
Chris at the top of the ladder beyond sump 1
We take things slowly and rig the ladder, before hauling the 12 litre bottles up and getting everything into sump 2.
Kitting up in sump 2 was fairly easy this time around and I get ready with the camera. We have a plan to shoot some video of the sump, especially our discoveries from 2011 and 2012. We don't hope for much as it is a small, fiddly sump covered in powder-like silt. But we gave it a go.
We get shooting and with plenty of time and gas, get to photograph and film everything we want to.
Kitting up in sump 2
Then, we had one last job to do.
There was one bit of a chamber left to explore. I had always had a feeling there was more to it than just a boulder pile. So, I dispatch Rich off to take a quick look and a minute later he returned to say it was "Going".
Woo hoo!
Line reel tied in and I sieze the (rare!) opportunity to film exploration in progress.
Rich swam along with his reel and made some nice tie offs and the cave started to head downslope in a fractured, friable passage. It was sculptured and pretty and the water ahead was azure blue.
Chris climbing out of sump 1
Behind Rich it was patchy, rust red and bits and pieces rained down from the roof as the first bubbles ever disturbed the rock.
As the visibility went to zero, I paused at 24m and heard Rich scratching around. I figured he wouldn't be long and steadily, hand over hand on the line, fumbled my way back to the tie off with Rich just behind me.
Happy, we thumbed the dive and had a pleasant swim home in patchy visibility. I stopped to photograph a worm, the type I had not seen before in a sump.
Surfacing back at the airbell, we de-kitted, pleased with the days work.
Not surprisingly, after a recent chest infection and a cold, I had some trouble descending back into sump 2 to get home. Fortunately my bottle of trusty Otravine got me to depth but wasn't keen on getting my sinuses back up again.
Sump 1
It's a divers worst nightmare (well, one of them anyway) and despite hanging around on the way up trying to get my sinuses to let go, it was obvious I was going to get a reverse block.
I did and it hurt a lot, making my eyes water and temporarily blind. Rich took my bottles off and I eventually heard the relieving squeak, followed by some blood and the pain subsided. Not pleasant.
Jean was at the top of the pitch waiting for us as we surfaced. He was worried as we were half an hour overdue. This was probably due to our taking our time in the CO2 ridden airbell. We apologised for worrying him but he didn't mind and we showed him our photos to cheer him up.
Chris holds the empty line reel in sump 2, Perdreau Fourmi
A gang of cavers had showed up to help carry all the gear back in one run, including a very small child who was lugging 2 tackle bags and going better up the hill than I was!
A cold beer in St Jean de Bueges followed by pizza in Laroque seemed a fitting end to a very pleasant day, all things considered. Finally things are going our way.
2011 discovery in sump 2
Event de Rodel
Today we had plans to go the Event de Rodel.
This pretty little gem of a cave is one of the easier ones to access, but still requires a carry and some crawly, stoopy caving to get to the waters edge.
Andras in the Rodel
It was a much easier carry this year and all except Andras opted to dive in wetsuits. The gear was carried through scratchy scrub a short distance through bushes and up a short, dry riverbed. We then changed into caving grots and chained the five sets of diving gear to the start of the sump.
It soon became apparent that my trainee, Jarvist, was capable of shifting twice as much gear as everyone else in half the time - so we blundered along and let him get on with it!
We were a little alarmed by Andras' 10 litre cylinders, so he devised a hardcore technique for carrying them through the cave!
Even more alarming was his sidemount set-up - which had clearly been designed by someone who had never been in a dry cave in their lives, never mind had to carry diving gear through one!!
Andras watched in awe as Rich and I glided through the water easily in our minimalist UK sidemount set-up. He'll be borrowing one of ours tomorrow to see how he likes it.
The Rodel didn't disappoint and I shot some video of Rich and Andras, which had pleasing results - except the LED torch was causing red dotted stripes due to a problem with certain power settings. I couldn't fix this underwater so we had to make do with what we ended up with.
Source du Sorgues - The Picnic
Chris in the Sorgues. Image: Richard Walker
The Sorgues is in Aveyron and is a great little cave to finish the trip with.
We invited Mehdi Dighouth to come over for the day and Rich and I set off to the cave to have a picnic before diving.
Oz and Joe set off to the Durzon - because their instructions had the GPS co-ordinates mixed up!!!!!
The Sorgues is a beautiful river emerging from the cirque rockface and feeds the fish-farm just downstream. It used to be the case that divers were asked to hose off their drysuits before entering the water but now the fish-farm seem not to care and divers are welcome here.
We settled down to lunch by the weir and Mehdi produced some home-made Fois Gras and some fruit jelly thing which was amazing.
We were still waiting for the others to show up and without a mobile signal here, wondered just how long we should wait. Rich still needed fills from the compressor so couldn't dive with me until Oz and the compressor arrived. It was decided that I should go for a dive with Mehdi and Rich could dive with the others when (if) they showed up.
Mehdi and I set off through the maze of boulders and concrete tunnels which fill the entrance. I first dived here in 2007 but didn't remember much about the cave as I was pre-occupied with a top-heavy independent twinset, having moved from sidemount to backmount gear myself, without any advice or training. I was uncomfortable throughout and didn't enjoy the dive.
It was great this time to know that I could just get on with it and relax.
Chris in the Sorgues. Image: Richard Walker
We dived to what I consider the end of the cave. The main, spacious passage just ends and the way on is a small, narrow rift which goes up to about 3m depth from 31m and nobody has been any further. It is reported to be tight, nasty and a dead-end boulder choke - so we stay in the big stuff!
With loads of gas to spare, we turn round and I get the opportunity to waft my HID around and have a real good look at this cave. The geology is beautiful and there are ribbons of calcite protruding like a dragons back all along the edges and the floor. The water is typically clear, with a blue tinge and no decompression is required for such a short dive.
We surface to see that the others have arrived and Rich is getting his cylinders filled. Elaine and Duncan set off for a short dive and Elaine returns with plenty of gas, so I offer to take her in again behind the filming crew. Rich, Oz and Joe have a lengthy dive briefing for the camera work and Mehdi sneaks in for another dive behind them. Elaine and I stealthily follow them all and we are treated to a fantastic view of four divers, all with bright filming lights and HIDs, spread out down the passage. Elaine is thrilled with her dive and we call it a day.
The wonderful Sorgues. Image: Rich Walker
Mehdi returns and gives me an impromptu lesson on his Megdalon rebreather. I always said I would never go over to RB because there is so much I can do on open circuit to last me a lifetime - and I haven't got anywhere near my limit of open circuit yet. But maybe in ten years time I may think differently.
We end the day with much giggling and silliness as Joe asks Mehdi for an interview about the Esperelle. Both Joe and Mehdi are extremely professional - you get the feeling they have both done this sort of thing before....I am in the background asking Mehdi questions in French and the video looks amazing.
Then it's Rich's turn to be in front of the camera and Joe's techniques for shedding a little golden light on the subject has us in stitches.
All too soon it is time to go. Mehdi has to go and give a talk at the speleo congress and we have to shoot off as we've been invited onto the Hortus Plateau - aka middle of absolutely nowhere - by the CLPA for a pizza party!
Christine, Mehdi, Elaine, Osama, Joe, Duncan, Rich
The seven hour lunch
The impressive Millau Bridge
We arrived at the camp site in one piece yesterday. The tents are up (one for us, one for the gear....) and shopping done.
I'm still sick with some sort of chest infection off the back of a cold, so today we tried to take it easy.
I had a phone call from my good friend Jean Tarrit to tell us he was coming to our campsite and we were to have lunch at his house in Larzac to discuss plans for the two weeks.
Jean Tarrit
Fuelled with coffee and coughing like a donkey with asthma, I was driven via some stunning scenery to Larzac - the long way round as the Gourney's are closed for repair work in the Vis gorge.
The drive took ages but we finally met up with Jean and headed to his house.
It was a beautiful, typically French rustic country home with big beams and huge fireplaces.
We were spoiled from the outset with several courses, including crevettes (shrimp), magret de canard, sautee potatoes, salad, bread, cheese, tarte au poire and a 12 year old Bordeaux.
Many hours later we went for a short wander to take a look at the view over the Larzac plateau which is cave hunting heaven.
The viz gorge, Herault, France
Back at the house, we discussed the geology of the caves we were pushing, fault line directions and made plans for the week. Rich let out the occasional snore as he nodded in the armchair.
The plan is to go back to Garrel on Saturday but this depends on me being well enough and we can put it back a week if we need to.
Caves & Wine - What else is there?
After yesterday’s antics, I wanted a day off.
I met no resistance from Rich who was beginning to realise that the word ‘holiday’ had been misconstrued.
We decided to go and visit the vineyard at Saint-Saturnin and follow it up with a visit to a stunning show-cave, Grotte Clamouse.
I hadn’t visited either for almost a decade, so I was really looking forward to going back and showing it to Rich. Joe kindly loaned me one of his cameras so I was able to take some photos and video of our day out.
The vineyard was a great photo opportunity and we left with boxes and bottles of local wines, some for gifts and the rest for ourselves.
£100 lighter, we set off down the road to the show-cave.
We were treated to the best AV (in English and French) of cave geology, formation and 3D models that I have ever seen. It was outstanding and I wish some British show-caves would put as much effort into their experiences as this place. The show-cave guide was well educated, spoke in two languages and gave a detailed and interesting tour and knew the cave inside out.
There were plenty of photo opportunities as well as a music and light show, which might not be to everyone’s taste, but to be honest I find it hard to see how else they could show off the pinnacle of this fabulous cave in any other way. It was well done without being tacky and the tour was worth every penny of the 9 euros each….
Elaine and Duncan meanwhile had been spending their time diving the Rodel and hunting out various caves in the area to go and visit.
We headed back to camp central and dug out the BBQ having raided the local Super-U in Ganges. This fabulous supermarket has a meat and fish counter to die for and we went a bit mad, buying a big bag of tiger prawns, rack of ribs, some trout and salmon steaks, whole mackerel, beers plus salad things etc. Barely 60 euros later, we walked away with bags of goodies, amazed at how cheap it was.
Trimix fills in the middle of nowhere
It felt like the ‘last supper’ as we all sat round under the fairy lights, watching cave diving video films and footage that Joe shot of the Gourney-Ras. It was push day the next day in the Event de Perdreau – cylinders had been filled, trimix salvaged and gear was pretty much packed. All we had to do was go and lay more line…..what could possibly go wrong?......
Vineyards of St Saturnin
A Grand Day Out
It was not a pretty sight at 9am this morning!
Last year we were chased all over the French countryside by Jean Tarrit and his friend, Jean-Claude, who were desperate to find us and show us an exciting dive site in a cave called the Garrel.
Ongoing cave. We planned to dive the Siphone des Pas Perdus.
I had visited the Garrel in April 2003 and remember it as an easy, dry and pretty cave with no tackle required. I don’t recall there being a sump, but Nathan Boinet the local activist in these parts, had been dipping his toe in the sumps at the end of the system, some of which came to nothing early on and one which was looking to ‘go’ – but he was diving back mounted 7s and couldn’t fit through the etroiture (squeeze).
So, we were invited to take a look using our ‘techniques anglaise’ (sidemount) and were promised a large group of ‘slaves’ from the CLPA to carry all our equipment.
We were due to meet the French cavers at 9am near St Jean de Buéges but the troops were not to be rallied.
Tim Webber and Jarvist Frost arrived last night having made awesome time – but they were paying for it in exhaustion.
Duncan Smith and Elaine Hill also arrived yesterday – but Elaine was staying firmly between her tent and the toilet block, having eaten something dodgy.
Duncan was up and about, Rich was dragged out of his pit by me and there was no sign of life next door.
The plan was for Tim and I to take a look at this ‘squeeze’ and see if we could pass it. I would go first and sort the line and have a look, then, assuming I would be too fat to fit, as Nathan had insisted on a ‘thin diver’, I would hand over to skinny Tim to continue.
So, having had a minor epic trying to find bread for breakfast, we got on the road and Tim would show up later with Jarvist in tow.
The French team were at the side of the road, half kitted up and there was a buzz in the air. Lots of banter and greetings and introductions went around and after a degree of faff, we set off – minus SRT kits. This concerned us a little as the others all seemed to have them…….Nathan assured us that the climbing was easy and we weren’t to worry. So we didn’t.
Five minutes in to the entrance we were met with a 15m pitch!!
Never mind……The French guy ahead of me descended and Duncan behind me lent me his descender. I attached it to my belt, abseiled down the pitch and sent it back up the rope…..
Dry cave passage in Garrel on the way to the sump.
I could see this being quite a fun trip for those of us minus rope gear.! However, the French were obliging and over the course of several rope climbs and abseils, I employed just about every technique in the book – including those with red crosses through them! I used a stop, figure of 8, Italian hitch and krab, one or two jammers depending on what I could scrounge at the time, a full kit at one stage – loaned by Jean-Claude who can free climb just about anything – someone else’s cows-tail hauling me from above and quite a lot of brute force and ignorance!!
It was excellent fun and Jean was correct in his time estimation. It took 4 hours to get our teams and two sets of divers gear to the sump. There was climbing, crawling and boulder chokes by the bucket load and it was very, very hot and sweaty in there!
But the banter and morale kept everyone going with frequent breaks.
We arrived at the sump and it was large, blue and clear and very inviting. I was desperate to get in and cool down!!
Chris kits up in the sump pool
Everyone arrived on the boulder slope and began unpacking their lunch. It was a natural amphitheatre, with graded seats for the cavers to watch the divers kit up in comfort.
We treated ourselves to sausage roll, taboulé, bread and cheese. Nathan became insistent that it would be better for two people to dive together as the second diver would not get to see anything. I was unsure about this, but as he had dived it and we hadn’t, we went along with his suggestion and Tim and I kitted up together.
The line was broken at the very beginning, so we tied the reel off and set off down the sand slope in zero visibility. I went in front with the reel and we laid 20m of line until we found Nathan’s broken line in situ. We tied into it at a good belay and the water suddenly became crystal clear as we moved away from the sand slope and into a level passage with a boulder floor, about 3m high and 5m wide.
Tim Webber
We patched up the line in one place where it was needed and soon came to the end of Nathan’s line, marked with a 45m tag, just at the start of the squeeze.
I had a good look at it and it didn’t look too bad, so after a quick chat with Tim, I set off through the squeeze and passed it easily, stopping for a moment to make a good tie off at the end, before turning slightly rightwards into bigger passage.
Tim duly followed and continued tying the line off behind me. We moved forward until the passage seemed to come to a bit of a break down and spotted a higher passage so moved on up into that and went forward some more. We laid about 42m of new line altogether after the squeeze.
The biggest problem in this sump was the visibility. It is a static sump so there is no flow to help you. The silt seemed to rain down in clouds from the roof – probably because there had never been any air bubbles in there before to dislodge it.
Furthermore, the roof sloped upwards so bubbles were travelling up the roof ahead of us and raining silt clouds down like swirling mists of powder, right in front of our noses and interfering with our visibility.
This problem began to obstruct progress and I got to a bit of passage where the way on was less obvious and it looked to be breaking down. I stopped to have a good look and was engulfed in red swirling powder – so I thumbed the dive and tied the line off, cut the reel free and we set off back home in awful viz.
Following the thin line home was much easier than I anticipated and we soon arrived at the sand slope and looked up to see the dozen or so cavers lights glowing on the embankment in expectation, all staring at us through the ripples on the surface of the water.
I gave Nathan and the expectant audience a brief explanation of what we had found – in dubious French – and received a round of applause and what looked like an explosion of paparazzi!!
We cleared up, had some water and food and started the journey out en masse, which was not without amusement!
Still minus an SRT kit, I scrounged all sorts of items on the way home. The other brits were having similar epics and we ended up fighting over the sole karabiner for use with an Italian hitch!
The Garrel team 2012
The journey out was a little slicker and we stopped in the ‘Salle de dejeuné’ which Jean explained was the resting place for the original explorers.
We arrived at the last pitch and I was given an SRT kit from somebody and made my way up the pitch. Rich was also donated kit from somewhere but I have no idea how the others got out!
I arrived at the traverse line and was faced with a French caver, lying on his side looking like he wanted to die!
He said in English (cue French accent): “Christine, please can you 'elp me..? Can you take my equipment because I am very, very tired….”
I said “Of course!”
He went on to explain: “I cannot feel my arms or my legs any more!”
Poor guy!
He had left his jammer on the rope and couldn’t face the return journey of all of one metre to retrieve it!!
I offered to take his bag the last 15 metres of uphill crawling and he insisted we do it together!
We surfaced to the flashes of cameras and dusk was settling.
Garrel team 2012
A gang of us returned to the campsite for a great BBQ cooked by Rich and far too much wine!
A grand day out!
Success!
A huge thank you to the CLPA and friends for their support and images.