Willett Cave • Buena Vista Cave • Sand Cave • Skylight Cave

New s l e t t e r of th e Pi N e Mo u N t a i N Gr o t t o KY • Nu M b e r 28 • Ja N u a r Y , 2005
Willett Cave • Buena Vista Cave • Sand Cave • Skylight Cave

The Pine Mountain Fault
Newsletter of the Pine Mountain Grotto Inc./Kentucky
Number 28—January, 2005
Contents
Cover: Surveyors of PMG by Ken Storey
Back Cover: Left: Tim surveying an upper lead in Buckeye Cave; and a long shot inside Icebox by Ken Storey
Bottom: Jimbo phoning home by Lisa Storey.
Page 2: Jimbo Helton, and John Taylor by Ken Storey; Mark Joop, and Kenneth Storey by Lisa Storey; Karen Caldwell by Mike Stanfill.
Page 6: Jimbo and Dianne carrying ladder and Tim under the hole by Ken Storey; Thor attempting to insert ladder by Lisa Storey.
Page 7: Ken Thomas climbing by Ken Storey; Dianne in the entrance by Lisa Storey; Lisa at a new entrance by Ken Thomas. Page 8: Group
shot outside of the Bell, Thor and Ken trying to figure out DVD, and New Years Day meeting by Lisa Storey. Page, 9: Bloody Anne by
Cheryl Pratt. Page 10: Cheryl and her new ride and Cheryl at Virgin Falls by Anne Elmore. Page 16: Looking out the entrance to Sand
Cave by Jimbo Helton.
New PMG Officers ................................................................................................................................................................................... 2
PMG officers for 2005
Fallen ....................................................................................................................................................................................................... 3
Andy’s first-hand account of the Alpha System recovery
A Virgin on New Year’s Eve ...................................................................................................................................................................... 6
What better way to end the year....go caving
Footnote to the Virgin New Years Eve weekend ........................................................................................................................................ 8
Spending New Day Year’s in the Bell
“Two FLCs Survive Wilderness Trip” ....................................................................................................................................................... 9
Anne and Cheryl go camping
Willett Cave Map ................................................................................................................................................................(Center spread)
Another map by Jim West
Buena Vista Cave Map ............................................................................................................................................................................ 11
Yellow Hat survey
Skylight Cave (Plan and Profile Views) .................................................................................................................................................... 12
Map by Mike Crockett
Sand Cave Map ....................................................................................................................................................................................... 16
One heck of an overhang
Sand Cave Trip ....................................................................................................................................................................................... 17
Jimbo’s favorite survey trip
SECKI 2004 ........................................................................................................................................................................................... 20
Lisa gets hooked on motorcycles
Co Editors: Thor Bahrman and Mike Crockett
Newsletter Design and Layout Editor: Kenneth Storey
PMG Officers: Jimbo Helton-Chair; John Taylor-Vice Chair; Mark Joop-Secretary; Kenneth Storey-Treasurer; Karen Caldwell-At Large
Safety-Mike Stanfill; Pine Mountain Survey-Jimbo Helton; CRF-Mike Crockett; VSS-Jim West; Conservation-Jeremy Napier;
Member Services-Jason Napier; Media-Thor Bahrman; KSS-to be announced (Anita Spears)
The Pine Mountain Fault is published by the Pine Mountain Grotto Inc. of the National Speleological Society, c/o P.O. Box 460 Pineville, KY 40977.
Regular membership in the Pine Mountain Grotto costs $15 per year. Non-member subscriptions cost $6 per year.
Address manuscripts for publication to either; Thor Bahrman at caveyak@yahoo.com, P.O. Box 724, Corbin KY 40702 or
Mike Crockett at mikecrockett@hotmail.com, or mail to: P.O. Box 460 Pineville, KY 40977.
Art work and photos to Kenneth Storey at, kennethstorey@charter.net, or mail to: 110 Sweetbriar Court, Winterville, GA 30683.
Copyright 2005 by the Pine Mountain Grotto Inc.

New PMG Officers
At Press time the new PMG officers were named for
2005, and they are:
Chairman Jimbo Helton
Vice-Chairman John Taylor
Secretary Mark Joop
Treasurer Kenneth Storey
At Large Karen Caldwell
Jimbo Helton
John Taylor
Kenneth Storey Karen Caldwell
2
The Pine Mountain Fault would like to
congratulate them and wish them well
during their tenure.
Thanks go to those who served on the
elections committee.
Mark Joop

Fallen
Andy Messer
In the dream I see a cave entrance. There has been
an accident. Someone is trapped. One caver is going
in alone to attempt a rescue. At first it all seems very
orderly. Then I am inside the cave, looking down a great
pit. The trapped caver is down there. Would-be rescuers
climb about, ant-like, occasionally dropping pieces
of climbing gear down the shaft. Others fan out into
surrounding passages. I am certain they will all become
lost in the labyrinth. The alarm clock’s plaintive beeping
dissolves the dream. I climb out of bed and trudge into
the living room. Something moves on the floor: a cave
cricket, hopping across the carpet.
“We had an interesting phone call last night.”
It’s the final day of the September Cave Research
Foundation expedition at Cumberland Gap National
Historical Park. I’ve had a long night’s sleep after a good
day of surveying on Saturday. I anticipate an easy day of
tying up loose ends in a section of passage not far from
the Cudjo’s Cave tourist entrance. Now Mike Crockett
is telling me about a call that will change all that.
The day before, Mike says, an experienced caver
exploring a large multi-drop cave in Wise County,
Virginia—call it the Alpha System—became detached
from his rope and fell nearly two-hundred feet. For
an instant I feel hope that the caver has miraculously
survived, followed immediately by the certainty that he
has not—and that not to have survived such a fall is the
kinder fate. The caver’s friends, those who were with
him in the cave, those who would be recovering his
remains, have requested our help.
We hold a meeting. Everyone feels obliged to
help. A few cavers have ironclad commitments that will
prevent them from going to the accident scene—this
may be a multi-day operation, after all—but most of us
agree to go. Mike will stay at the research center long
enough to tie up loose ends and join us at the cave later.
I borrow a cell phone and leave Tina a message on our
answering machine at home. My voice breaks as I tell
her I’ll see her as soon as I can. We all make a quick trip
to the grocery store for supplies and set off on the twohour
drive to the scene. Thor Bahrman rides with me,
and I’m thankful for the company. I think too much
when I drive alone, and today there’s too much to think
about.
We’ve been told to report to a rescue squad
headquarters in the town nearest the cave. When we
3
get there the doors are locked. We knock. I recognize
the small woman who unlocks the door as a caver, one
of the circle of cavers involved in mapping Alpha, in
fact. I wonder, for an instant, what she’s doing here
at rescue squad headquarters. And then I realize, as I
comprehend the shell-shocked look on her face, the sag
of her shoulders: of course, she must have been there
when he fell. I learn later that she was in fact on the
bottom of the drop when he hit the ground, and that
she has volunteered for the unenviable job of meeting
with his family when they arrive here.
A policeman is summoned to lead our caravan of
cars up the mountain to the turnoff to the cave. Up
we drive, winding up one switchback after another. It’s
getting cold, really cold for September, and the sky
begins to spit frigid drizzle. We reach a forest service
check point and are waved through the cordon. Then
we’re driving down, down a dirt and gravel road, losing
some of the altitude we’ve gained but still staying high
above the town on the flank of the ridge.
Then we’re there. There are cars and trucks parked
along the shoulder of the dirt road. We pull in at the
end of the line, shut off our engines, get out of our cars,
walk down to the end of the road, where a forest service
tarp shelters the operation headquarters and a rescue
team trailer disgorges gear. Welcome to the place where
your fears are realized.
Initially our team is put on standby. We rig a tarp
to the back of Mark Joop’s camper, drag out some
lawn chairs and some food, and settle in to wait. Our
mood to this point has been grim, but as we sit and
eat and talk we begin to loosen up, to joke, to laugh.
We keep reminding each other not to laugh too loudly.
Eventually our little party breaks up. I go to my car
and lie down in the back seat; I’m not tired, but I’m
expecting a sleepless night, so I decide to try to take
nap. It’s too cold and I’m too wired. Soon I hear Cheryl
Pratt, another member of our team, coming down the
road, telling everyone to suit up. We’re about to move.
We put on coveralls, gather gear, and walk to the
forest service tarp. We’re told that we’ll be taken down
to the cave entrance to do a dry run, seeing how long it
will take and how difficult it will be to bring a stretcher
back up the hill. I don’t really see the point in this, but
I’m glad just to be doing something, so I keep quiet.
We’re told that we’re waiting for the mule that will haul

the litter up the final stretch of hill. I have visions of
a mule-drawn funeral cortège, until the beast actually
comes into view and I realize it is not an animal at all
but a motor vehicle, a sort of four-wheel-drive golf cart
with a truck bed on the back. About this time someone
decides a dry run will not be necessary after all.
Then a van load of food arrives for the crews down
at the cave. Someone will have to carry it down. I
volunteer for the job, as do Mark, Cheryl, and Anne
Elmore. The mule hauls us as
far as it can, and then we walk
steeply down the mountain
to a sinkhole where a tarp is
rigged, sheltering the man in
charge of logging everyone
who goes in or out of the
entrance. I know him, slightly,
him and the other caver sitting
with him. Roddy and Jimmy.
We unpack the food, exchange
small talk. What is there to say,
really?
After a few minutes the
field phone sitting next to Roddy rings its odd, rattling
ring, and Roddy picks it up. Someone in the cave needs
sixteen locking carabiners. Roddy rings off, radios to
the top of the hill. The ‘biners will be sent down. Still
restless and eager to justify my presence, I volunteer to
go meet the couriers halfway, which I do. When I arrive
back at the cave entrance, two cavers who have been
inside the cave have come out, one of them suffering
from an apparent migraine. He won’t be able to go back
in for a while. Mark offers to take the ‘biners in.
Afternoon blurs into evening into night. Jimmy
builds a fire and each of us periodically rambles over
the nearby forest floor looking for wood dry enough
to burn. It’s cold out and getting colder, so the fire
is welcome. Cavers come and cavers go. For a while
there’s lots of macho banter among some of them.
God damn it, he died doing what he loved. This was
what he loved, man. This is how he’d want it. I’ve said
the same sorts of things, a bit defensively, on those
occasions when someone has claimed not to understand
how I could justify participating in dangerous activities.
Better to have the rope break than to lie in a hospital
bed wasting away with tubes sticking out of you. But
in the actual face of death, all that rings surprisingly
hollow, unconvincing. Offensive, even. There’s talk,
too, of exactly how the accident could have happened.
Nobody knows, really. The dead man was competent,
experienced. He knew the cave. He knew the
equipment, knew the techniques. But he’s still dead,
isn’t he?
They stagger out of
the hole, muddy and
haggard, perhaps take
a bite of soup, accept
a blanket, and then fall
asleep wherever they
happen to be.
4
Mark comes back. Cheryl goes into the cave to work
the field phone for a while. After about two hours she
comes back and I’m sent in for a tour of phone duty. I
follow another caver down the chimney-like entrance
and along a narrow canyon until we reach the first major
challenge in the cave, a ninety-foot vertical drop. He’ll
rappel to the bottom of the drop where he’ll serve as
a physical link in the communications chain, carrying
messages between cavers deeper in the cave and the
phone operator—me—at the
top of the drop. I’m not sure
why the phone hasn’t been
taken deeper into the cave. I
don’t ask.
At first it’s pleasant
enough, if a little lonely,
sitting here waiting for the
phone to ring. Then it begins
to get cold, then colder. The
temperature here is probably a
little over fifty degrees, warmer
than it is outside, but there
are complicating factors. It’s
windy, for one thing, and very damp. And it’s hard to
move around much. I’m perched on a wet limestone
ledge over a narrow slot in the floor several feet deep.
I can sit fairly comfortably, but I can’t really stand up
where I am, and I can’t go very far away, for fear the
telephone will ring and I won’t be near it. I fidget as
much as possible to try to work up some heat, but it
doesn’t help much. Now and then a message is relayed
up the drop and I ring up the surface. Occasionally the
phone rings, and I answer a question or shout a message
down the drop. Mostly I sit and wish I were somewhere
else, that I were comfortable, that I wasn’t in this cave,
that none of this had ever happened. After two hours
the phone rings with an offer of relief. I don’t say no.
On the surface again. Someone has brought
blankets and—amazing!—homemade soup. I eat, grab
a blanket. Anne has taken over as battlefield nurse,
distributing food and blankets, mothering everyone.
I’m lying on the cold ground, but she convinces me
to get into the Ferno litter, the stretcher in which the
body will ultimately be transported to the ambulance.
It’s an orange plastic basket with an Ensolite pad on the
bottom, and Anne’s right, it is warmer than the ground.
She tucks me in and I lie shivering, trying to sleep but
failing, listening to the ribald jokes flying around. By
now no one is shy about laughing. We are, by God, still
alive, after all, still alive, and to be alive is to need to
laugh, especially at a time like this.
I get up after a while and realize that Mike has
arrived and is quietly tending the fire. Toward morning

we’re joined by fresh cavers from Knoxville and
Chattanooga. After eighteen hours in the cave, during
which they had refused all offers of relief, a few of the
members of the rigging team and the haul team have
agreed to come to the surface. They stagger out of the
hole, muddy and haggard, perhaps take a bite of soup,
accept a blanket, and then fall asleep wherever they
happen to be.
After daylight word comes that the body is nearing
the surface. Not long after that, the remainder of the
riggers and haulers begin to emerge from the cave,
some obviously spent, others seemingly still strong.
Mark enters the cave again to help haul the body
through the final canyon. A bit later he emerges with
word that the body has reached the bottom of the
entrance chimney.
The body has been brought this far in a stretcher
known as a SKED, a sort of thin, flexible plastic
toboggan that wraps around the body, making it
possible to scoot it over the floor and maneuver it
through tight spots. Now the SKED is rigged to the
haul rope, which in turn has been run through a pulley
hanging from a tree limb above the entrance, and those
of us on the surface are deployed to pull. Which we
do, repeatedly, to no effect. Rocks near the top block
the SKED’s progress. Easy enough for a living body
to wriggle around, they present an insurmountable
obstacle for an inert mass, lacking volition and
flexibility. The SKED is lowered to the bottom of the
drop, carried down canyon a bit, in fact, and a caver
named Greg climbs into the entrance with a piton
hammer. Surprisingly quickly, he reduces the obstacles
to shards. Greg comes out, the SKED is carried back to
the bottom of the drop, we haul again, and the burden
reaches the surface at last.
I’m glad that I can’t really see the dead man. Inside
the SKED, he’s wrapped in a dark tarpaulin, a faceless,
mummy-like shape. I’m glad that I didn’t know him,
that I can easily enough reduce him in my mind to an
object. For many of the cavers here, many of those who
stayed with him for nearly twenty hours underground,
he was a man, a friend, someone with whom they
shared food and drink and stories and laughs. Several of
5
those who have stayed with him so long had been on
the trip on which he had died. I don’t want to imagine
how they must feel, how weary they must be, how sad.
The body, still wrapped tightly in the SKED, is
loaded onto the Ferno, the Ferno is fitted with a single
fat wheel, and several of us begin the long climb up the
hill to provide counterweight for the haul system. A
team accompanies the litter, actually pushing, pulling
and lifting the Ferno up the mountain. Others of us
attach ourselves to the opposite ends of the haul ropes
and hustle down the mountain, thus helping to pull the
Ferno upwards. Near the place where the mule waits,
a call goes up for one more person on the litter team. I
fall in behind Anne and try to help in the task of rolling
the unwieldy litter along.
Then we come to the mule and load the Ferno
crossways in the bed. While the load is strapped securely
to the mule, most of us begin to trudge toward the top.
Mike and I fall into conversation with another caver
we know. Moments later the mule catches up to us and
we step aside to let it pass. I feel a momentary impulse,
which I do not act upon, thank God, to salute, John-
John Kennedy-like, as the makeshift hearse passes.
Up top, the body is swiftly loaded into a waiting
ambulance. We sign out at the forest service tarp. Ropes
are packed away. People shake hands, say goodbye. We
change clothes, exchange wan smiles, get in our cars
and trucks and drive away. At the nearest town, Mark
and Anne bid us goodbye to head for Knoxville. Cheryl
has left her car at Cumberland Gap, so she’ll ride back
there with Thor and me. Before hitting the road we
have lunch at a Chinese restaurant, make a few phone
calls to let people know we’re all right. Thor, who has
stayed in the staging area due to a badly sprained ankle,
has had more sleep than either Cheryl or I, so he drives
while I doze, fitfully. I don’t know if Cheryl sleeps or
not.
We reach the research center, sort out our gear.
Each will head home alone from here. I make it home
by about six in the evening. Tina is not home from
work yet. I walk upstairs, sit down on the living room
sofa, and begin to cry.

Jimbo and Dianne carrying the ladder to Ice Box Cave.
Right: Thor attempting to insert said ladder through the entrance to Ice Box.
FIRST DAY: Scene for the Uninitiated
Seven scruffy looking, strangely dressed, helmeted
individuals walking down the railroad tracks in Pineville,
carrying an aluminum extension ladder . . . what in the
name of decency could they all be up to?
Thursday afternoon December 30, Jimbo Helton,
Tim and Dianne Piper, Ken and
Lisa Storey, Ken Thomas, and I
arrived under the bridge over the
Cumberland River in Pineville. We
were going to try to climb up a
crevice in Icebox Cave that looked
promising. Those who have been in
that cave know of the cold, blowing
air that betrays the apparent small
size of the cave. There is more to be
found, but where?
As we arrived at where the
short trail up to the cave leaves
the tracks, we set about the task of
getting the aluminum ladder up
what is normally hard to even get
up without hauling anything. Tim,
Jimbo, and I took turns hauling and
belaying the hulk until it was at the
entrance.
Tim entered the cave first.
After arranging a few rocks, we
tried to lower the ladder into the
small entrance. No luck. The shape
of the entrance combined with
Tim standing under the hole which might lead to
somewhere. The ladder was to be used to climb
here.
6
the rocks and dirt at the bottom
meant the task would not be as
easy as we had thought. So, Tim
dug some more and moved more rocks, taking a few
swings at the mouth of the cave, trying to knock off a
small protrusion. We tried again. No good. The ladder
made it in about three fourths of the way, then stopped.
So, we removed one segment of the extension ladder
and tried sticking in just one side. We made it in barely
a little farther, but the ladder
kept hitting up against the huge
breakdown rock at the bottom.
So, Ken and I entered the cave
and, along with Tim, dug and
moved rocks and cursed until we
realized we were making progress
at moving rocks but not making
progress at getting the ladder in
the cave. After one last attempt, we
decided the ladder was not going
to get in the cave at that time. So,
we left the ladder outside and just
went caving.
About half of the group had
never been in the cave before. Ken
and Lisa took many photographs
while Ken Thomas and Tim
climbed around and shoved their
bodies into small crevices. I believe
it is Tim’s opinion that the air may
be coming from the south end of
the cave as opposed to the crevice
above. We may, in the future, do
some digging as well as climbing
to extend this cave.

SECOND DAY: Mark Hadn’t Dropped It?
Friday morning December 31, after an outstanding
breakfast at the Flocoe in Pineville, the same band
of intrepid speleo-warriors set out to do some ridge
walking and poking around in caves that had been
found previously by PMGers. The initial objective was
to go to Buckeye Cave and its brethren Buckeye I and
Buckeye II. After
arriving and getting
dressed for the trip,
Ken Storey asked
if any vertical gear
would be needed.
Jimbo’s reply was
that if vertical gear
was brought, we
would not find
any pits. So, we all
dutifully left our
vertical gear. After
a grueling hike on
Pine Mountain that
took the better
part of an hour and
what Jimbo claimed
would only take
fifteen minutes, we
arrived at Buckeye
Cave. Jimbo told us that
Karen and Mark had stuck
their heads in the cave
previously, So, several of
us entered it while Lisa
started Ridge Walking.
After crawling about fifteen
feet, we arrived at the lip of
a drop. We had come across
a pit! Jimbo’s proclamation
was accurate. None of us
had brought vertical gear,
and we had found a pit.
The only problem was...no
one had vertical gear. Catch
twenty-two. So, while the
rest of us did some ridge
walking. Tim and Dianne
volunteered to go back to the vehicles to get rope and
vertical gear.
Meantime, Ken Thomas had joined Lisa at an
entrance she had found a little over a hundred feet
below Buckeye. Ken had crawled in and after a short
time emerged, proclaiming it tight. Now, if Ken Thomas
7
says something is tight, it is tight. After reporting this
find to the rest of us, Jimbo and I speculated that the
pit might lead to that entrance below. The only problem
was the pit we had found looked to be only about
twenty-five feet deep. However, when Tim and Dianne
arrived, we would find out more.
Soon, the rope and vertical gear were brought back
and Tim had rigged a
tree above the pit.
Top: Ken Thomas climbing out of This, we decided, was
Buckeye.
the safest thing to
do, as there were no
Middle: Dianne in the entrance to rigging points in the
Buckeye while Jimbo points. cave. There were only
three sets of vertical
Bottom: Lisa at the entrance that
gear and five of us
might connect to Buckeye?
were entering the
cave. Lisa and Jimbo
opted to stay on the
surface.
I entered first,
followed by Dianne.
Together, we hauled
in the ropes and
began setting pads.
Using a borrowed
diaper sling harness,
I went in down first
while Ken and Tim
entered the cave with
more padding and a
webbing haul line.
Soon, I realized the
pit was deeper than
twenty-five feet. What had at the angle above
looked like the floor was actually a ledge that
the pit passes. I was very glad I had pulled out
about sixty feet of rope and had lowered it until
I was sure it had come in contact with the floor.
To be fair, I should have been wearing vertical
gear, just in case.
At the bottom, the small room led
off into a couple of small chambers and after
getting out of the fall zone into the deepest
one, I yelled, “off rope!” Dianne and Tim and
the two Kens joined me at the bottom and we
started looking around.
In a few places, we could climb up to the ledge that
had looked like the bottom from the edge of the pit
above. Tim and Ken Thomas spent a good deal of time
looking for a way beyond, but found none. Meantime,
I spotted a hole going down that I knew I was too big
to enter without rock removal. So, when Ken Thomas
contiuned on page ten

Footnote to the
Virgin New Years Eve weekend
Kenneth Storey
We came into Pineville on Wednesday and Mike Crockett put
us up in one of the rooms above the theatre. On Thursday we were
finally going to get the chance to see the famed Ice Box Cave.
Jimbo Helton, Tim and Dianne Piper, Ken Thomas, Thor, Lisa and
I arrived under the bridge over the Cumberland River in Pineville.
From there it was a nice walk (I wasn’t carrying the ladder) to the
cave. After we gave up on getting the ladder in, we made our way
into the large room where there’s a hole in the ceiling and possibly
a link to more cave. It’s a nice little cave which still may go on.
That night we saw a movie, or was it two? After the real
movie played, Lisa, Thor and I teamed up (along with help over
the phone from Crockett) to get the DVD player working so we
could watch Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Friday morning we
had breakfast at Flocoe’s in Pineville. Jimbo took us up on Pine
Mountain to have a look at a recently found cave he calls Buckeye.
I really did ask everyone if they were taking vertical gear. After a
nice (long) walk up to the cave, Thor and Ken Thomas entered
the cave first. Then I heard from inside, “we have a pit.” I want to
thank Tim and Dianne for going back to get the vertical gear.
It turned out to be a fairly deep drop and a good one. We
explored what cave there was. We watched Ken Thomas disappear
down a lead and report that there was another drop which was too
tight. That hole will have to wait for another trip and another time
with something to dig with, and vertical gear!
Friday night came, along with another movie after we met
up with Jim and Linda West. After the movie (Ken Thomas, Tim
and Dianne stayed over) I had the idea to get the DVD hooked
up to the TV cable to see the New Years Eve ball drop. The guys
who were working the theatre that night got it hooked up as we
watched from the front row. When the screen came on we had just
barely missed the ball drop.
On Saturday morning, we gathered at McDonalds for breakfast.
Another PMG group was going to another pit for a New Years day
cave trip. We were heading home, but got the chance to see a lot of
old friends. This was a nice way to start the New Year.
A big thanks goes out to everyone for a great time of caving
and movie watching over the New Year’s weekend.
Top: Ken Thomas, Mike, Dianne, and Ken Storey outside the Bell Theatre.
Middle: Thor and Ken trying to figure out the DVD player.
Bottom: New Years Day meeting upstairs in the Bell.
8

“Two FLCs
Survive
Wilderness
Trip”
Anne Elmore
News Flash: Two local
fun-loving chicks (FLC) arrived
safely after spending
two days and one night deep
in the Pocket Wilderness of
Bowater near Sparta, Tennessee.
The officials weren’t
at the Trailhead to greet
them on their arrival on
Sunday, but reports of their
unbelievable activities were
passed on to the media.
Their amazing story follows. Let’s give these two survivors a
great big “go girls”.
Cheryl and Anne (the two FLC) began their adventure
Saturday morning with their packs loaded (thirty five to forty
lbs?) while Bob carried their tent (eleven lbs) to the deep
wilderness. Bob passed the tent to Cheryl at the two-mile
mark since he had a soccer commitment later and needed
to leave. These two remarkable women hiked the entire
Bowater Pocket Wilderness trail to the bitter end and almost
collapsed at the final destination camp site near the beautiful
110’ Virgin Falls. The massive adventure hike was an incredible
four miles, but they survived it quite well.
At that location, they built their house, created their
tarp shelter, hiked to the top of the mountain to pump and
haul their water, built their life-saving fire, then proceeded
to prepare their three to four course meals similar to a
five-star restaurant. Cheryl cooked a fabulous dinner of
sausage, onion, pepper, cheese munchies in her iron skillet,
while Anne popped open a package of freeze-dried Lasagna,
all topped off by dinner drinks of Bloody Mary, then M&Ms
and Twizzlers candy. Yes, these girls were well prepared for
the roughest of the outdoor conditions. They then retreated
into their house for a world-class serious competition of
Double Solitaire card games.
Sunday morning only threw more challenges of survival
to these girls - packing up and exploring all the caves of the
area. Yes, not only did they pack up their crap (oops, I mean
gear), but they ventured deep into the unknown bowels of
9
Bloody Anne
the earth in each cave, armed with only two Tikka LED headlights
and one keychain pointer light, which possibly could
save their lives if needed, while wearing jeans and shorts.
They scurried over boulders, tip-toed through rivers (creeks),
avoided the dangerous white Albino crawfish, and prayed the
Pips wouldn’t wake up and drain their blood, while exploring
the darkness. These true survivors explored Virgin Falls
Cave, went on to Upper Sheep, then ventured down into the
deepest hole in the U.S. Bowater Pocket Wilderness, yes, the
big one, Lower Sheep Cave. They struggled with the descent
and challenged Mother Nature with the slippery leaves and
mud, and finally arrived at their destination. With the help of
the key chain pin light, they were able to locate the crevice
into the darkness below the waterfall. As the descent was
beginning, they were approached by two young strapping
men questioning their actions and wanting to follow for the
chance of a lifetime to enter a cave of no return. As these
girls entered the cave, the two guys completely wimped out
and struggled to even follow them half way down the slope,
only to sit at the entrance and say “where the hell did they
go? Are these two girls crazy? They just disappeared into
nothing, there’s no walking entrance to this horrible cave,
OMG, they just evaporated into thin air And they looked like
normal girls...........” Yes, that was the comment of two guys
who just couldn’t keep up with the FLC. After several hundred
feet of canyons, rivers, and just plain mud and crawling
over boulders, these girls emerged still alive, but covered with
mud, while these two men bolted. Oh, the respect of out
doing men has only encouraged these girls to push them-

selves and continue these trips in
the future.
The final team challenge was
exiting the gorge from hell with
massive amounts of weight from
the eleven lb. tent, iron skillet,
M&Ms, three raincoats, empty
Bloody Mary container, the big
chair with legs, thirty unused
band-aids, all the caving gear (they
didn’t take), Anne’s makeup, the
red checkered tablecloth used for
fine dining, and the empty milk jugs
attached to their packs. Yes, they
were able to hobble out without
any fatalities or injuries (well, that’s
not true). As life throws us curves,
some of the stronger step up to
the bat and that’s just what these
two courageous women have
done............
AND NOW, THE REST OF
THE STORY: I left out several
things, such as when I told Cheryl
to keep backing up while I was
focusing the camera on her, “back
up, back up some more, just a little
more” when ehh-gads, she completely
tripped, landed on her face,
and barely caught herself from falling eighty to ninety feet to
the bottom of the falls. As she started flapping her arms, I
turned away and just couldn’t watch. But, I was holding on
to her brand new really nice digital camera she just bought.
Gosh, it takes the best pictures and it has this really cute
A Virgin on New Year’s Eve from page seven
finished above, he entered the squeeze. It meandered
right then left for a few feet and then became too tight
for even Ken to continue. But, he did report finding
the edge of what looked like another pit just beyond!
So, after a few rock tosses that Ken proclaimed took
about two seconds to reach the bottom, we decided
we had found another drop about the same size as the
first. However, to get into this hole would require much
memory card, and you can adjust-well,
never mind that.
Then, Cheryl, tried to crank
an old abandoned truck which had
been left in the riverbed to die. I
kept telling Cheryl the engine was
gone, the doors were gone, as was
the seat, the dashboard, the ceiling,
the pedals, but no, she just kept
turning the imaginary key, listening
for any glimmer of a hum. She
even looked for the knob to turn
on the A/C which she swears was
Cheryl and her new ride.
in it (maybe twenty years ago!).
Cooking Utensils: Cheryl
bought a brand new iron skillet
just for the backpacking trip. It was
still in its package (but the package
hardly weighed anything). Mark
told her not to carry an iron skillet,
but no, she didn’t listen. After all,
this is her first backpacking trip
in exactly thirty years and she
must have taken one then and it
didn’t bother her. And, there was
the caving with the keychain she
bought from Walgreens for $1.99,
and the used tea bags she recycles
Cheryl at Virgin Falls.
(the ones we found in the bushes
from the animals), and her nice big
metal campsite chair that folds up and has legs and a back
on it. She got it free when she bought her last car (left in
the trunk, I guess). After all, we’re strong young women who
have enough macho in us to outdo any backpacking man on
earth!!! The Fun-Loving Chicks, yes, the real Survivors.
10
effort and perhaps even micro blasting. We decided to
call the effort at this point and head back up.
Ken Storey took several photographs of the trip.
This cave beckons us back at some future date. It is
possible that, just as Jimbo and I were speculating, at
the bottom of the second pit lies a passage out to the
entrance Lisa found. Time and effort will tell.

BUENA VISTA
TOPO: MIDDLESBORO SOUTH
UTM N 405551
UTM E 264036
ELEVATION: 1960
LENGTH: 126.8 FEET
DEPTH: 38 FEET
LIMESTONE: NEWMAN OR GREENBRIER
SUUNTOS & FIBERGLASS TAPE SURVEY
ON FEB. 29, 2004
CARTOGRAPHER: JIM WEST
SURVEYED BY: JIM WEST
JIMBO HELTON
MIKE CROCKETT
MIKE STANFILL
5
3
8
4
DROP OFF
SLOPE
CEILING HEIGHT CHANGE
ORGANIC MATTER
DIRT OR MUD FLOOR
FORMATION
ROCKS
ELEVATION ABOVE OR
BELOW 0 DATUM
CEILING HEIGHT
AMOUNT OF DROP
10
0
-10
-20
-30
1
NM
-5.25
N
2
3
11
1.5
2
4
15
8
10 4 4
3
15
20.0Ft.
9
1.5
7
3

Skylight Cave
Cumberland Gap National HIstorical Park
Lee County, Virginia
s u n
0
Datum
Lewis Hollow Trail
Sunnto Compass / Clino / Tape Survey
July 23, 2004
Mike Crockett
John Taylor
Anne Elmore
Cave Research Foundation Cumberland Gap Project
14

Skylight Cave is formed along the strike of the
Newman Limestone at the southeastern exposure
of the Pine Mountain Thrust Fault Sheet
which dips at 40 degrees to the northwest.
seasonal pools
Indirect sunlight represented for
July 23, 2004 from 2pm to 5pm EST.
Sun Angle 60.5 to 26.7 degrees above horizon.
Sun Azimuth 237.7 to 274.8 degrees east of north.
Most light passes the skylight afternoons
from Winter Solstice to Spring Equinox.
15
CRF Symbol Set
Leaves
Profile View
Ends in
Breakdown
unstable
? too tight
? too low
Vertical Extent 52.7 feet
Feet
70
60
50
40
30
20
10
0
-10
-20
-30

Sand Cave
Bell County, Kentucky
Cumberland Gap National Historical Park
July 3, 2004 Pro
Lee Formation
Sandstone Members
White Rocks Sandstone Member
Sandstone Member A
L o o s e S a n d F l o o r
16
Looking out of Sand Cave.

Feet
file View
160
140
120
100
80
60
40
20
0
-20
-40
Surveying Sand Cave: It’s All About the Gout
Thor Bahrman
Mike Crockett said it would be something like a two-mile hike. It didn’t sound too bad. Sure, I
was in. I’d join the survey team going to Sand Cave. Heck, it sounded fun! “Two miles . . .”
Jimbo, Crock, and I caught a shuttle up to Hensley Settlement, the starting point for the hike to
Sand Cave. The ride up the gravel road proved to be quite bumpy, but very scenic. I had heard so
much about the settlement from cavers, friends, and family. My mother had hiked up on occasion
and said how arduous, yet enjoyable the hike was. Now, I was in a van doing it the easy way. Or, so
I thought.
Crock’s “two miles” would soon prove to be closer to five miles. And, though I had no recollection
of him mentioning the up and down nature of the trail, we would face that challenge shortly
too. Jimbo and I had gotten a warning of its true distance by an old-timer in the Park’s Visitor
Center. As the three of us left the van, the driver told us he would pick us up late that afternoon.
We knew there was no way we would be able to meet him at the appointed time. I think he knew
it too.
Hensley Settlement looked incredible! Even if we hadn’t been surveying the cave, the trip was
worth it. Though I considered running and hiding in the nearest building to escape the death march,
the better part of stupidity took over and the three of us hiked on. After eternity, we arrived at
Sand Cave.
The “cave” is really a rock shelter. However, it is the biggest rock shelter I have ever seen! The
enormity of it earns it the true name cave. At the bottom, a waterfall pours over an edge, revealing
the geological development of this masterpiece. Thousands of square yards of sand lead upward
from the base, making hiking up to the darkness of the cave more like a climb. Crock and I compared
it to the difficult walking we did at the bottom of a pit we visited in Mexico. The old-timer in
the Visitor’s Center told us that decades ago, the sand had been several different and distinct colors.
However, time and people had shaken the sand painting, disturbing its once splendor.
We began to work. Our plan was to survey the perimeter of the cave, taking a few splay shots
when necessary. Work began quickly, but the pace soon slowed as we climbed up into the deep
sand, Jimbo and I taking shots and distance, Crock artfully sketching. In time, a few kids showed
up, asking questions and frolicking in the sand. After a while, Jimbo began to suffer pain of some
sort. He soon realized his gout was acting up. The pain began to be severe. Clearly, Jimbo was in
no shape to survey. We thought about ending the survey, but Jimbo insisted we continue while he
began hiking back. Crock suggested he hike off the White Rocks side instead of trying to make it
back to the van. The two of us would quickly finish the survey and meet up with him on the trail,
then call Mrs. Crock to pick us up.
After finishing the survey, Crock and I started after Jimbo. We were both surprised when we
caught up with him. He had made great time limping along in agony. However, his pain was strong.
Luckily, I had some extra-strength Tylenol in my cave pack. Unluckily, it was quite old and puffed up
from years of moisture. Jimbo took three of them, and in a few minutes felt better. Crock and I
provided shoulder support, helping Jimbo walk. But, soon Jimbo felt like he could hobble along on
his own and was outdistancing Crock and me on one leg. After a brief flair up of more pain followed
by the remaining three puffy Tylenol from my pack, Jimbo, Crock, and I made it to the bottom
of the mountain and met Crock’s wife who Crock had been able to call on his cellphone from the
top of the mountain.
In spite of Jimbo’s ordeal, the survey trip had been a success and Crock would go on to craft
a beautiful map of an absolutely gorgeous piece of nature. Sand Cave is definitely worth a repeat
visit.
17

N
A
1096.0 feet
94.4 feet
32
18
42.0
31.5
15 42
40
0.6
21
39.2
72
14.2
Feet Above 0 Datum
A'
60
Feet Below 0 Datum
16
Entrance
40
Feet
Zero D
Wall n
Mount
Bush

35
atum
ear
ain Laurel
0
Legend
Sandstone
covered with
sand
Loose Sand
Loose Sandstone
Slope Down
Ceiling Change
Floor Ledge
Surveyed Passage
Water
Water Flow
Seasonal Flow
Tree or Bush
19

Summer Memories
SEKCI 2004
Kenneth Storey
Last summer’s SEKCI was a success as always. Some forty-five cavers
attended the event which included several cave trips, the road rally, and
concluded with the Saturday night cookout. Christine Walter won the
drawing and donated $500.00 to the SCCI Snail Shell Cave fund.
Lisa and I arrived Thursday night at John’s house to find lots of
friends already there. We, of course, stayed up way too late until we were
tired of talking.
Friday morning some of us were off for the Sloan’s Valley cave
system. I had never been there so I was really looking forward to it. We
found the well entrance and started in. This is one great cave system
with waterfalls, large rooms, and multi rimstone dam drops. We were
forced to turn back because of a drop that was too deep for us to make
without a rope. Still, the trip was great.
Saturday, we visited two caves including the ever-famous Fletcher’s
Cave. After making this cave trip, I couldn’t see how those guys can do
the kilted cave clean-up in the month of December.
While I was caving on Saturday, Lisa took her first
motorcycle ride on the back of Mike Stanfill’s Harley.
Before the day was over, they had ridden from
Barbourville, Kentucky to Morristown, Tennessee
and back again. Lisa has since earned her motorcycle
license and has hopes of owning her own bike.
Thanks to John Taylor and Bill Fritz for a great
SEKCI. I can’t wait for the this year’s.
Lisa and Mike on his hog.
20
Rimstone area in Sloan’s Valley.
Waterfall in Sloan’s Valley.
One of the drier spots in Fletcher’s Cave.