Hillocks Mine

Caving has a way of taking whatever physical traits make you unique, and punishes you for them. Never has that been more apparent than on our joint Shark-Orpheus trip to Hillocks Mine, Derbyshire.

The 5 of us entered through a small circular tunnel, and soon found ourselves in a wide-open, natural chamber. So far, Hillocks seemed like a promising expedition.

A short walk brought us to our first obstacle - a squeeze through a shelf which was open on the left, showing an awkward drop. The aim was to crawl along the shelf until the floor rose to a level where we could jump off.

However, the roof above the shelf was low, forming a tight squeeze. While I slid through like a slender weasle, the gap was too narrow for the other Shark, who opted for the tricky climb-down straight away. It was at this moment, one of the Orpheus members turned back, blaming suit-friction. Perhaps we should have taken the hint.

The bottom of this passage led to another tight-squeeze - this time, non-optional. Some had to take off climbing gear to fit, which was made all the more awkward when the squeeze led immediately to the first pitch. Putting on a climbing harness in a space smaller than some teapots was quite the struggle. Probably.

Fortunately I wouldn’t know, as I could fit through with my harness still on. Instead, I had my own challenges. Thrusting myself through a squeeze with a fair bit of water present was highlighting my lack of natural insulation. The icy embrace of cave-water had started flooding its way into my suit. This would eventually turn out to be a non-issue.

The pitch at the end was simple enough - heading down a vertical shaft which was reminiscent of a tunnel Bugs Bunny would dig. The rope led to an unfortunate pinch-point in the tunnel walls just before the end. “This is a vertical squeeze, and Primula is a squirtable cheese”, I later quipped. This didn’t cause us too much bother, and we were soon through.

After some more squeezes, we arrived in a narrow passage which led to the second pitch. The other Shark followed the Orpheus riggers, but eventually found a squeeze so awkward he was finally convinced to turn around. I wanted to explore the bottom briefly myself, which meant I had to let him get past me. The narrow passageway had other ideas though, and offered no opportunity for two adults to comfortably switch spots. Instead, I pushed off a short ledge, and suspended myself between the two opposite walls - allowing him to crawl under me. I then moved to take on the final pitch myself.

After a short drop, I found a near-horizontal section, where the walls converged on the small hole which had proved too much for the last Shark. I managed to get through, and saw a disconcerting sight - the rope looped around a trapped boulder, and dropped straight down. Optimistically, I assumed it was probably fine to put all my weight on this precarious rock. My trust in the rigging was well-placed, and there were no further incidents on the way to the bottom.

The two remaining Orpheus riggers gave me a whistle-stop tour of the lower level, and pointed out all the passages which led to climbs. In one area, I looked up a 50m pitch to daylight, marked with a fairy-ring of rocks on the floor to warn of debris falling from above.

Eventually I’d had my fun, and left the Orpheus cavers, heading back to check on my Shark comrade. I reach the bottom of our pitch, using our discarded tackle-sack as a landmark, and I shouted up to check on him. “You still up there?” A response came quickly: “I need help!” Oh no.

With the other Orpheus members exploring deeper in the labyrinth of the mine, we decided I should race up to offer support. I scamperd up to the boulder, launched through the squeeze, and started climbing up to the narrow tunnel where I left him.

As I climbed, we talked about his situation. I learned he had decided to start heading out alone, to save time later. However, the only exit from his narrow tunnel was a short climb to a ledge, about the height of a living-room ceiling, with barely any hand-holds to use. A loose bit of rope was present to assist the climb, but he had clipped in with his SRT gear. The redistribution of weight on the rope had caused it to tighten at an odd angle, and he found himself unable to proceed with any of his kit. He had himself strung up, dangling like a piñata, in an uncomfortable position.

Minutes passed by as I grappled with the pitch - meanwhile, it was obvious the troubled Shark’s situation was deteriorating. He’d been hanging there since my lower-level tour, and his initial discomfort was turning to suspension pain.

I started to prussik up the final section of the climb. “I can see your light!” I called out. It wasn’t enough - as I reached the end of my line, he’d reached the end of his. “I’m cutting the rope!” was his response. The rope trauma had become unbearable, and waiting was no longer an option. As I finally climbed up to the narrow passage, I saw an exhausted Shark on the floor, and the sheared support rope which led up to our exit.

We stood on opposite ends of the narrow passage - a descending rope behind me, and the climb out behind him. It wasn’t obvious what our next move should be. I didn’t know what the Orpheus cavers were up to, or how long they would be. Even if they had the climbing prowess to escape, that still left our Shark stuck here. But then I remembered something.

I was standing in the same spot I was in when my clubmate first turned around, in this narrow tunnel by the downward pitch. Back then, I had hopped up by pressing my back against one wall, and kicking my legs out to the other, suspending myself in the air between the opposite walls. I could use this tactic again to gain the height to escape!

Except there was still a problem. I climbed up to the right height, but I was still at the wrong end of the passage - the exit ledge was on the opposite side, behind the other Shark. So I started my shimmy over. I walked my legs along one wall, while shifting my weight between my back and arms on the other. This achieved a practical, if ungraceful, shuffle down the passageway.

As I neared the escape-ledge, my options for grip were running out. I briefly lost support, slipping a tiny but terrifying distance down. No wonder the other Shark had problems before - I didn’t need to climb any height, and I had enough of an issue finding support for a simple shimmy! I regained my focus, and with some encouragement from my clubmate, I flopped onto the ledge. Success!

With this achievement, I had demonstrated I could escape without the rope. That didn’t help the other Shark though. He was clearly too exhausted to repeat my hazardous passage shuffle. But what option did that leave? Summon Cave Rescue and have them drag him out? No, there had to be another way.

I jumped back into the passage. I wasn’t concerned - if I could wriggle out once, I could do it again. I offered my services as a human footstool, to help my clubmate get out. He was apprehensive at this, concerned my tiny frame couldn’t support him. “If you’re too heavy, I’ll just scream,” I laughed.

I dropped to a squat, using the opposite walls for support, and offered my flat lap as a step. The other Shark tentatively lowered his boot onto my leg. “That’s fine,” I said, to reassure him. “I haven’t put my weight down yet,” he warned. I noticed when he did - the scream that escaped my lips was an equal mix of surprise and pain. I sensed an awkward scramble above me, but the weight was soon lifted - I looked up to see my clubmate safely resting on the escape ledge!

With the hard part done, I just had to repeat my miracle scramble from before. I returned to the opposite end of the narrow passage, hopped up to escape-height, and began to wobble over. I found my second trip much easier, and didn’t have a repeat of my earlier heartpounding slip.

The journey out the rest of the mine was slow-going. We’d both expended a lot of energy in the rescue, and the earlier squeezes still posed a challenge. We took a break at the bottom of the final rope-climb, where I scarfed down a sausage roll, and provided rope-related-assistance as the other Shark tackled the vertical squeeze.

After a hard slog, we had returned to the first chamber of the cave. Distant noises suggested the Orpheus riggers had started to come up themsleves, and had successfully navigated the cut rope. We sat, waiting for them to get closer.

I pondered on the challenges of the day - how I could use this to make an epic trip-report, and how to write it in such a way that I didn’t shame the other Shark. At the time, I hadn’t realised that every line in my heroic tale would sound like a double entendre when written down. That is, unfortunately, unavoidable when one dabbles with ropes, hoists and squeezes.

I shouted down to check on the Orpheus crew - they were fine, and were happy for us to get out and start changing into normal clothes. To celebrate the daring rescue, my fellow Shark bought me a dark-chocolate gelato milkshake from Tag Lane Dairy on the way back. It was magnificent.

Overall, I enjoyed my trip to Hillocks mine. Not at the expense of the two cavers who didn’t reach the bottom, but because it offered a challenge which I rarely get with Derbyshire mines - not one, but two rope pitches! Hillocks provides an enjoyable playground for rope-fans who have little reason to fear a squeeze. For the right caver this is a delight, for the others… Beware of friction.