Mistral (with UNCC) 30/11/19

After a miserable evening, and a miserable night, I woke up on Saturday morning with an agonising sore throat and a fever. Sitting in the dining room of Bullpot Farm, I watched everyone else eat their breakfast and discuss how chilly it was, whilst I sat there sweating and unable to swallow more than a sip of water due to my swollen tonsils. I cried into my sleeping bag about how much pain I was in, and knew that there was no chance of me going caving. So I watched the others get ready whilst I huddled up in my blanket, thinking about how incredibly ill I felt. 

Deciding to spend the day resting was probably one of the most sensible decisions I have ever come up with. Deciding to disregard my previous decision and go caving anyway, however, was not. As the others prepared to depart, I suddenly thought that I couldn't bear the thought of sitting inside all day whilst they were underground. Neither could I have forgiven myself for giving up so easily. I have a strong tendency of always wanting to challenge myself, and stretch myself beyond my limits - this, it turns out, is a dangerous game which occasionally backfires on oneself. So, with swollen tonsils and a fever, I rushed into my caving gear and announced that I was ready to go. I got to wear the multi-coloured frog undersuit, which cheered me up considerably.

The walk to Mistral was lovely - we wandered over the heather, past Bullpot of the Witches, Lancaster Hole and Link Pot in glorious sunshine without a single cloud in the sky. We the descended into a white valley with shards of ice growing out of moss-covered stones like a setting from Lord of the Rings.

Along here, we found the entrance to Mistral - a short free-climb down leading to a crawling passage. I was the second one down, so as Jacob (who was leading the trip) waited to help the others climb down I occupied myself by crawling along this rocky passage until I found a comfortable spot to turn my light off and sit in silence in the dark. After being notified that everyone was on their way by Jacob's light appearing at the end of the passage I continued, until it opened up into a medium sized cavern named the Hobbit.

I spotted two knotted ropes hanging down in the Hobbit indicating a couple of free climbs and was curious to ascend these to see where they went, but unfortunately we didn't have the time. Beyond the Hobbit, we continued through a series of somewhat muddy tunnels for a while, past a research project from Birkbeck University, until we reached a small cavern with a traverse along the left leading to a muddy squeeze, or a short free climb down past two guardian Toads to another tight passage at the end of the cavern with a small stream. Jacob, myself and Hana started shuffling along this one on our stomachs, and upon reaching a 90 degree bend to the left I heard Jacob mutter 'Oh bloody hell, that's long'. Thus we decided that we couldn't be fucked to continue, seeing as there were 6 of us and we didn't really know where the passage went, and we'd have to come back the same way anyway.

Turning around was a hassle involving much wriggling about in the stream, but I did find the passage rather cosy and for someone who claims to prefer the larger spaces to the small ones in caves I would even go as far as saying the few squeezy bits we found in Mistral were my favourite part of it. Nevertheless, I maintain my opinion that Mistral is a fairly boring cave better suited to a fresher's trip. It was an easy dawdle with no winding rifts, no real climbs or traverses, no SRT, and virtually no danger involved. There was, however, something rather homely character about the cave which prevents me from thoroughly disliking it. I would also feel confident doing it on my own, so I can add that to my list of potential solitary cave trips.

Emerging from the cave was undoubtedly one of the highlights, as surprisingly it was still daylight. I was the first up, so that I could run (carefully, for the valley was covered in ice) up to the nearest high-point to watch the sunset. Whilst ascending the slope I heard a shout from the valley below, and saw the group of cavers heading along the icy bottom. After exchanging a few dance moves, I flopped down onto the heather on top to wait for them, a comfortable trick for providing both a bouncy natural mattress, and a shelter from the wind (thanks for teaching me that one dad). When the others reached the top I encouraged them to do the same, and Lieutenant Hankey's unexpected face-palm into the heather was very comedic.

We then took some cool photos atop the hill, and headed home to Bullpot Farm - which used to be one of my favourite places, before it unfortunately became associated with pain and disease. Still, I'm happy I went, and it gives me something to write about, as well as being sufficient in proving to myself that I do not give up easily.

I spent that night muffling screams with my pillow every time I tried to swallow and sweating into the sheets. I went to A&E in Lancaster as soon as I could the next morning, which I fear reversed all previous attempts to prove that I'm tough. The doctor asked me if potholing involved filling in potholes in the road, and I typed 'no, it involves crawly through muddy tunnels underground'. She didn't seem very impressed.

However, I do not regret going caving that day at all. Though Mistral wasn't particularly satisfying, and the night following it was one of the most painful nights of my life so far, I maintain the belief that if I was going to fall ill anyway - I may as well have done it whilst caving. Stay tuned for the next one of Anna's Stupid Decisions (after I've finished this course of antibiotics).