| Caving and its vertical cousin -
pot-holing - provide the possibility - almost in your backyard - of exploration
the like of which you'd only otherwise get on the moon. You are totally reliant
on your light and on your skills in navigation in three dimensions where the
way in - and out - can be above, below, behind or in front of you. It is a
magical space that forces you to conquer your worst fears - of confinement, of
the dark and of huge open spaces, some as big as St Pauls cathedral. Caving
remains an adventure apart because so few still do it; those that do are
thankful for that.
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The two high spots - so far - for me was
that Aggy trip, because we went through a tight squeeze to come out into an
ancient river bed the size of a train tunnel than ran for miles and miles. The
other was going some of the way into the Little Neath River cave in south Wales
with my oldest son, Olly, who went on to undertake amazing feats of very deep
caving at Cambridge University with their caving club and with his now partner,
Serena. The Little Neath system entrance is in the river bed; we had to turn
back, that day, because of time, but what a thrill, pushing our way through a
raging torrent to come out into a huge system that went on and on.
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