Belfry Bulletin Number 131

No. 131

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No. 131

EDITORIAL It is, as we had occasion to remark about this time last year, a custom for the serfs of the B.B. to endeavor to produce a larger than usual offering to mark what is known as the festive season. The production of such a large version of the club magazine is, of course, rather beyond our capabilities and readers will not be surprised to find several “clangers” in this one.

The worst of these, for which we seriously apologize, is that the margins on pages 12 and 13 are on the wrong side (corrected in this version) and it is difficulty to read the words occurring inside of each page.

This occurred because the Christmas B.B. is typed all in pieces, from September onwards. The fact that page 13 is not numbered is not due to any form of superstition amongst the board, but merely an oversight.

We have, this year, made an attempt to avoid wasting space in this Christmas B.B. and owing to popular demand (three people) we are not printing an index of the year’s B.B.’s at the back. Again, we are concentrating on the lighter side but hope to include at least some serious articles.

On typing out the annual list of members, we noticed with regret that once again a few well known names are no longer present. As “Pongo” said at the A.G.M., the B.B. is about the only link where many older members have with the club and we would like to remind them that we are always pleased to receive articles, letters or suggestions from them.

Finally, the Editor and all members of the Editorial Board would like to wish all readers of the B.B.: -

“A VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS” _______________________________________________________________________________________

P e r s o n a 1.

Congratulations to Alan and Carol Sandall on the birth of a son, John. He was born at 9.45 pm on Monday, 17th November and weighed 6lbs 2 oz. _______________________________________________________________________________________ ODD ITEMS; The next G.B. guest day is during the weekend 20/21st December. Please contract the Caving Sec. Roy Bennett.

A TIMEX WATCH has been left in the Belfry. Will owner please contact Hut Warden? _______________________________________________________________________________________ Balch Memorial Fund We have been asked, as a result of the recent meeting of caving organizations, at which the B.E.C. was represented, to circularise our members asking for individual donations to the fund which has been set up to provide a plaque to be erected on the Wells Museum. This plaque will commemorate the work of the late Mr H.E. Balch, the pioneer of caving on Mendip. All clubs are contributing, but without individual donations, the sum raised will not be adequate. Donations should be sent to Hucker & Booker, Chartered Accountants, Penniless Porch, Wells and cheque made payable to the Balch Memorial Fund.

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No. 131

We are very pleased to be able to include the article which follows in our Christmas B.B. This is the first account of the work in Swildons, which culminated in the discovery of Swildons VI, to appear in any caving magazine. We should like to thank the author for allowing us to print this account, and to congratulate all concerned for a very fine piece of successful exploration.

SWILDON’S VI

By Len Dawes Diving operations were held in Swildons on the weekends of September 6/7 and 13/14 by the Cave Diving Group. The first weekend was spent getting equipment into Swildons IV. This mammoth task was completed by having a large number of Sherpas, divided into several parties. One party ferried the equipment into Blue Pencil Passage, and this was chained down the passage into Swildons IV and passed to divers who carried it upstream and tested it. Besides the C.D.G., cavers from the W.S.G., B.E.C, S.M.C.C. and the Wessex took part.

On the following weekend, the diving party set off at 11.30 and arrived in Swildons IV two and a half hours later having travelled slowly in exposure suits. Then followed much time spent in dressing and assembling the diving gear. While doing this, the streamway could not be trodden in as the stirring up of mud would reduce visibility when under the water. The diving party consisted of Oliver Wells with John Buxton as second diver, supported by Eric Hensler, John Bevan, Jack Whaddon, Phil Davies, and myself.

The party walked down the streamway after changing, with the divers in full kit except for weights. At Sump IV, the wire was belayed to a flake of rock by the sump, the signal line plugged in, and the sump entered by Oliver Wells after his breathing drill had been carried out. He returned after one minute to say that it was O.K., then re-dived the sump and disappeared. After five minutes he returned to say that an airspace existed and estimated the sump to be about forty feet long, judging by the amount of line paid out.

The plan now was for John Buxton to put his equipment on and for the pair to explore again. This was done, and after a short time, the telephone buzzer went and we had a brief description of Swildons V. They had got to Buxton's Horror (at which John Buxton punctured his dress). As, by C.R.G. procedure, this had to be repaired as soon as possible, they returned to Sump IV and asked for a repair outfit to be put onto the wire. This was done, but they had no success in repairing the puncture, and John Buxton decided to push on as he was. They returned to the phone and told us they intended to survey. By tying a knot in the wire where the water meets the roof and then pulling the wire through, the sump was measured. All were surprised to find that the sump was only fourteen feet. The divers went on with the survey while we were left to ponder on the length of the sump. We agreed that a fourteen foot sump, provided it had no hazards, was suitable for free diving. No one, however, was anxious to try. Eric Hensler said now was the time, while divers were on the far side.

While the discussion went on, the two divers returned. Oliver agreed that now was the time for a free diver to have an attempt, and he would be happy to see anyone through. I was persuaded to attempt it. Then a discussion arose as to the best way to do it. I had never attempted to dive a sump in an inflatable exposure suit and I was reluctant to try Sump IV in one. John Buxton assured me that I would be O.K. if I used diver's weights which were available. Having agreed this would be the method, I was seized by the others, pushed into the first deep pool upstream, and sat on while they rubbed and poked at my arms and legs under the pretext of getting the air out of my exposure suit. I was then taken downstream to Sump IV again, loaded with diver’s weights, and further pummelled to ensure the last remaining air was removed from my suit. I then laid in the sump practising forced breathing. There is little danger of overdoing this in Swildons IV owing to the oxygen deficiency in this part of the cave. With a final large gulp of air I put my head under the water and pulled on the wire. I went through the sump without difficulty and surfaced in a small airspace to find Oliver waiting about five feet further down the passage. Oliver removed his breathing apparatus and we set off. Oliver showed me round Swildons V. Immediately after Sump IV, the passage opens up to be narrow but high, with a tributary coming in through the roof. Immediately beyond this point, the roof comes down to form a duck with about three inches of airspace. The passage continues beyond with about, three to four feet of water and twelve to eighteen inches of air. Then comes the second duck, Buxton’s Horror. This is the place where there appears to be two distinct routes. In actual fact, the correct one is the one that has the smallest airspace. This duck is particularly nasty as the airspace does not extend for the full width of the passage, being triangular, about

Page 4 No. 131 four inches wide at the water surface and three inches high at the top of the triangle. The passage at this point is of unknown width and it is possible to miss the airspace on the other side altogether. This may happen on either the outward or return journey. The passage continued wet, murky, until another tributary comes in via twin avens. The avens are too tight to enter. Directly beyond this, sump V starts. There is a duck immediately before Sump V which varies in length. On this first trip, the duck was thirty feet with an airspace of two to three inches. On the second (later) trip, this airspace disappeared entirely.

We then returned to Swildons IV and had hot drinks made by Chris Hawkes who had set up a kitchen.

The divers took their kit off and packed it up. It was then handed to the Tiger Sherpas who had carried it into Swildons IV. We got out of the cave at 3 am.

As a result of this operation, it was decided to hold a second one on the 8th of November. This time, divers would use a miniature breathing apparatus, the purpose of this being to ascertain that Sump IV was safe for free diving by cavers; to explore the tributaries coming into the newly entered part of the cave and for the divers to push on and explore Sump V and beyond. The sherpas set off about 10 am carrying the equipment and the diving party set off about 1.30. We all got down to Swildons IV and set off into Swildons V. Derek Ford and Joe Candy started a detailed survey of Swildons V. Ken Daw, Mike Thompson and myself set off to explore the first tributary, just after Sump IV. We hadn't enough maypole to get in. We then set off downstream through the ducks to the point where the twin avens come in. We found that they were too tight. Then Oliver Wells donned his apparatus, belayed his wire, and dived into sump V and unknown ground.

Every so often there was a single buzz from the earphone at our end - a signal that all was well. After a time Oliver spoke into the earpiece and told us that he had come through an eighty foot sump and was standing in Swildons VI! He elatedly described this as huge - high, wide and handsome - a stream passage twenty feet high and ten feet wide with the stream flowing downhill over pebbles and boulders. Oliver said that he thought he could lower the sump to a negotiable duck by digging a channel in the streamway . we sent an entrenching tool to him on the wire. He said that he would dig the channel and then we could all join him in Swildons VI and asked us to tell Oliver Lloyd, who had set up a kitchen in Swildons IV, that the rest of the party would be back in about an hour. Mike Thompson and I set; off back to do this, leaving Ken Daw and Phil Davies. Mike and I went through the first duck on the wav out without trouble. Then we reached Buxton's Horror. Then followed the most unpleasant experience I have ever had in a cave. I attempted to dive through this duck, sumping fashion, expecting to reach the airspace about four feet on. I travelled about five feet under water and still hadn't reached the airspace. I then tried reversing back to the place I'd started from. After reversing for five feet, I still hadn't cone into an airspace. This left me no choice except to do a series of reverses, hoping to find one side or the other, during the course of which, Mike Thompson grabbed one of my feet, as I was on my last gasp of air, and dragged me back into the airspace I had started from.

After that, we went back towards Sump V, as we thought that the water might have risen and we would need Oliver and his diving apparatus.

In the meantime, Oliver had had no success in lowering the level of the water. Phil Davies was supposed to go through and join him, but he was unable to do so as he was out of gas on one cylinder. Oliver then returned and we all set off out of the cave. This time, we had no difficulty in getting through Buxton's Horror and Oliver lead with his breathing apparatus, showing us the way by his light. We returned to Swildons IV, and after bread and cheese and hot drinks provided by Oliver Lloyd, we laboriously set off to the surface, arriving there at 3 am.

In conclusion, it should be said that Swildons V is a dreary dismal, unpleasant place and is extremely dangerous to anyone not aware of its hazards. Sump IV can be free dived by really experienced, competent cavers with no qualms about diving sumps. Surfacing in the immediate airspace beyond the sump is extremely difficult. It was found that most people carried, straight on the extra five feet and surfaced in the chamber beyond - taking twenty feet in all. There is a tendency for projections of rock to catch on the clothing as you go through, but there is plenty of room to move about through the sump. Swildons V should not be entered if there is any chance at all of the water level rising.

It is intended to hold the next operation early in the New Year, probably at the end of January and an attempt will be made by divers going through to Swildons VI, to lower the water level right through Swildons V. For this operation, lots of assistants will be needed and all experienced and fit volunteers will be welcome.

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No. 131 Annual List of Club Member’s’ Names and Addresses for 1958

306 412 236 20 392 358 368 290 214 390 370 364 336 401 145 36 320 393 384 320 209 190 389 361 366 231 398 211 89 395 377 71 401 405 350 226 164 325 331 322 263 232 371 269 278 385 404 251 388 434 346 239 104 304 400 4

T Andrews T.O. Asquith T. Attwood R.J. Bagshaw M.J. Baker D.J. Balcombe N. Barrington R. Bater R. Bennett J. Bennett W.L. Beynon P.M. Blogg A. Bonner Miss J. Boot Miss S. Bowden-Lyle R. Brain F.R. Brown R.G. Brown R.D. Brown N Brooks P. Burt Mrs P. Burt R. Burky B. Busson B.R. Chamberlain N.D. Clark A.C. Coase Mrs C. Coase S.J. Collins Cochrane D. Cooke-Yarborough.

A.J. Crawford M. Cunningham F.G. Darbon Mrs A. Davies I. Dear K.C. Dobbs A.J. Dunn J.A. Etough B.M. Ellis D. England C. Falshaw A. Fincham T.E. Fletcher G.A. Fowler R. Francis A. Francis K.S. Gardner J. Goodwin D.A. Greenwood G.H. Griffiths D. Gwinnel M. Hannam C.W. Harris R. Hartley D. Hassell

135 Danson Road, Bexley, Kent 70 Albert Road, Pellon, Halifax 4 Bridge Road, Shortwood, Nr. Mangotsfield, Bristol 699 Wells Road, Knowle, Bristol 4 Morello, Ash Lane, Wells, Somerset 26 Bennett gardens, Norbury, London SW16 53 St. George’s Drive, London SW1 2 Upper Perry Hill, Southville, Bristol 3 37 Queens Road, Ashley Down, Bristol 7 37 Queens Road, Ashley Down, Bristol 7 Lower Lodge, Weston Park Road, Weston park, Bath, Somerset 1 Ridgeway Park, Ridgeway, Glos 45 St. Alban’s Road, Westbury Park, Bristol 6 17 Beaufort Road, Clifton, Bristol 7 51 Coronation Road, Bristol 3 4 Lees Hill, Kingswood, Bristol 13 Alexandra Road, Bath, Somerset 45 Blundell’s Road, Tilehurst, Reading, Berkshire 3 George Street, Taunton, Somerset 392 Victoria Road, Ruislip, Middlesex.

3 Manor House, Rothamsted, Harpendon, Herts 3 Manor House, Rothamsted, Harpendon, Herts 52 Sedgemore Road, Combe Down, Bath, Somerset 57 Southcote Rise, Ruislip, Middlesex 102 Egerton Road, Bishopston, Bristol 7 3 St. John’s Crescent, Wainfelin, Ponytpool, Mon. 18 Headington Road, London SW18 P.O. Box 1510,m Ndola, Northern Rhodesia 33 Richmond Terrace, Clifton, Bristol 8 23368196 L/Cpl, Gordon Barracks, Bulford, Wiltshire The Beeches, St. Briavels, Lydney, Glos 3 Hillside, Harefield, Uxbridge, Middlesex 103 Staplegrove Road, Taunton, Somerset 43 Arthur Henderson House, Fulham Road, Fulham, London, S.W.6 New Bungalow, Hancot Lane, Pentre, Queensferry, Flintshire 76 Reforne, Portland, Dorset 85 Fox Road, Pinhoe, Exeter, Devon 70 The Crescent, Henleze, Bristol 116 Newbridge Road, Brislington, Bristol Oakmead, Cher, Minehaed, Somerset 28 Mendip Road, Bedminster, Bristol 3 50 Rockside Drive, Henleaze, Bristol Leeds University Union, Leeds 2 The Old Mill House, Barnack, Stamford, Lincs 77 Kingshill Road, Knowle, Bristol 4 91a Oxford Gardens, Kensington, London SW10 53 St. Thomas Street, Wells, Somerset 10a Royal Park, Clifton, Bristol 8 11 Glanarm Walk, Brislington, Bristol 4 53 Lingwood Road, Clapton, London E5 164 St. Johns Lane, Bristol 3 15 The paragon, Clifton, Bristol 8 14 Market Place, Wells, Somerset 19 Cowper Road, Redland, Bristol 6 ‘Hill House’, Moorlynch, Bridgwater, Somerset

Page 6 372 M.J. Healey 373 S.M. Hobbs 387 G. Honey 406 D. Hoskyns 97 J. Ifold 150 P. Ifold 363 M. Isles 374 J.J. Jacobs 279 J. Jenkins 340 R.L. Jenkins 225 M. Jones 267 Mrs M. Jones 285 U. Jones 289 D. Kemp 316 R.S. King 332 D.J. Lacy 260 J. Lamb 275 C.A. Marriott 414 T. Marston 106 E.J. Mason 383 P.J. Miller 334 D.W. Mitchell 339 G. Mossman 308 K. Murray 386 A. Nash 329 T.W. Neil 330 Mrs T.W. Neil 362 F. Nicholson 396 M.A. Palmer 245 J.S. Pembury 327 J. Pengram 22 L. Peters 160 N. Petty 146 T. Pink 56 G. Platten 337 B. Prewer 342 R.J. Price 291 D. Radmore 258 C. Rees 241 A.L.C. Rice 391 P.A. Richards 343 A. Rich 411 K. Robbins 157 Miss J.P. Rollason 367 J. Rowley 240 A. Sandall 359 Mrs. A. Sandall 237 B.M. Scott 78 R. Setterington 356 Mrs R. Setterington 312 R. Setterington A. Sidaw 402 D.G. Soutar 276 J. Stafford 38 Mrs. I. Stanbury 1 T.H. Stanbury 365 R. Stenner 381 Mrs. Stenner 60 P.A.E. Stewart

No. 131 24 Water Lane, Brislington, Bristol 4 135 Doncaster Road, Southmead, Bristol Giddings Caravan Site, Hemingford Grey, Huntingdon 128 Woodland Gardens, Isleworth, Middlesex Leigh House, Nempnett, Chew Stoke, Somerset.

Sunnyside, Rectory Lane, Compton Martin, Somerset 33 Greenleaze, Knowle Park, Bristol 4 126 Bridge Lane, Golders Green, London NW11 251 Bishopsworth Road, Bedminster Down, Bristol 3 5 North Street, Downend, Bristol 389 Filton Avenue, Horfield, Bristol 7 389 Filton Avenue, Horfield, Bristol 7 3 Durham Street, Eslwich Road, Newcastle-on-Tyne.

17 Becmead Avenue, Streatham, SW16 1 Lynmouth Road, Bristol 2 31 Devon Grove, Whitehall, Bristol 5 365 Filton Avenue, Horfield, Bristol 7 718 Muller Road, Eastville, Bristol 5 54 Pear Street, Kingston, Halifax, Yorkshire 11 Kendon Drive Wellington Hill West, Westbury-on-Trym, Bristol 130 Longmead Avenue, Bishopston, Bristol 7 Swallow Cliffe, Stolford, Stogursey, Somerset 5 Arlington Gardens, Arlington Villas, Clifton, Bristol 8 17 Harrington Gardens, South Kensington, London, S.W.7 60 Marmion Crescent, Henbury, Bristol Bradley Cross, Cheddar, Somerset Bradley Cross, Cheddar, Somerset 23526190, E Troop, Le Cateau Field battery, 25 Fd. Reg. R.A. B.F.P.O. 53 Cathedral Coffee Tavern, St. Thomas Street, Wells, Somerset Grove View, Hambrook, Bristol 4 Moffats Lane, Brookman’s Park, Hatfield, Herts 21 Melbury Road, Knowle, Bristol 4 12 Bankside Road, Brislington, Bristol 53 Burnthwaite Road, Fulham, London SW6 ‘Rutherfield’, Fernhill Lane, New Milton, Hants.

14 Egerton Road, Bath, Somerset 70 Somermead, Bedminster, Bristol 3 2 Dunkeld Road, Filton, Bristol 2 Burghill Road, Westbury-on-Trym, Bristol 20 Filton Avenue, Horfield, Bristol 164 Eastcote Road, Ruislip, Middlesex Frontier Geophysical, Party 8, 207, 61st Avenue, Calgary, Alberta, Canada 82 Eaton Valley Road, Luton, Beds 157 Pen Park Road, Redland, Bristol 6 52 Granby Hill, Clifton, Bristol 8 35 Beauchamp Road, Bishopston, Bristol 7.

35 Beauchamp Road, Bishopston, Bristol 7.

39 Colbrook Avenue, Hayes, Middlesex 4 Galmington Lane, Taunton, Somerset 4 Galmington Lane, Taunton, Somerset 86 Grand Drive, Raynes Park London SW20 143 Love Lane, Heaton Norris, Stockport, Cheshire 12 Loring Road, Isleworth, Middlesex 91 Hawthorne Street, Knowle, Bristol 4 74, Redcatch Road, Knowle, Bristol. 4.

48 Novers Park Road, Knowle, Bristol 4 38 Paultow Road, Victoria Park, Bristol 4 New address to follow New address to follow

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No. 131

WE APOLOGISE to members whose names start with ‘T’ or ‘W’ for not having room to squeeze them in. They will appear in January’s B.B. along with any corrections which members send in to the above list.

Please tell us if we have got YOUR address wrong as this is the one to which your B.B. is sent. _______________________________________________________________________________________

Last year, at great expense, we printed some extracts of the works of the great Persian Poet, Omar Obbs.

Although we have not been able to repeat this feat, we have, at even greater expense, translated from the crude Anglo-Saxon a portion of the great drinking saga: BEERWULF ‘Mongst the high hills, neath the low clouds there the Belfry stands.

‘Tis a mead hall and a haven home of goodly bands.

Hearth companions, stout screech drinkers their weekends are free.

Long they wassail, loud they revel wights like you and me.

The Detailer's our outhouse stout call it Odin's seat For he is the god of wisdom thus the title’s meet Round about its sacred precincts spaewife casts the runes Syb’s been at this pagan practice many weary moons.

An air of evil haunts the hall a subtle sense of slaughter But tremble not, ‘tis caused not doubt by body in the water Of dragon death to take no heed of him we have no fear We’ll stand upon our man made strand and stave off thirst with beer.

The fire flames flickers neath the roof the ale bowl pours its streams The hall doth quiver with glad sounds of song beneath its beams A skilful scald sings, harp accomp’nied ballads new and old And tales of battle, tales of drinking from each bench are told.

Bold built top the hill a sign of tribes gone long Perchance in those dim distant days they too would sing a song.

As round their halls and o’r their huts the brisk breeze bravely blew And storm wracked clouds and wind torn mists like wandering spirits flew.

The nights draw in and winter comes they drink the Bragi beaker And boastful oaths and manly vows are sworn by many a speaker.

To brave the trolls in caverns dark to force a narrow squeeze, Or swim the pool neath mellow noon while wandering watchers freeze.

There's a hall across the valley Shepton is the name Neath its roof and under shelter stands the tea-boy thane.

It is strong built, it is stone built they've no linden wall, In the evening, back from Hunter's shepherd Ken will crawl.

Within the hours allowed by tyrants fated feeble few.

At friendly bar they all forgather quaffing cheering brew.

They attack the cup and mead horn noble sights to see.

Like old Thor who drank an ocean they all fain would be.

WASS HABL

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No. 131

THE COMPLEAT HUT WARDEN (with apologies to Isaak Walton, Stephen Potter and all readers.)

Important Note: The following article is pure fiction and any resemblance to any person, either living of half-dead, or to any actions of such persons, is purely co-incidental.

There is more to Hut Wardening than at first meets the eye, and either for the benefit of any who may be thinking of taking it up either for the good of their health or their pocket, the only two specimens of Hut Wardeni who are normally resident on Mendip have put pens to paper to provide an introductory bit of gen. on the subject and to show some of the things that go on behind the scenes. There follows thirteen points of interest (we hope!) on Hut Wardmanship. This is, in the main, an extension of the principle of one-upmanship.

1. Correspondence. It is inevitable that some of the members of the club will be able to read and write. This means that sooner or later they will write to book bunks for their bodies - which is all very tiresome of them. It is also very probable that they will try to be clever by asking for instance, for a bunk "facing the sea". You have several ways to be one up here. Write back pointing out that we live on an island and, therefore all bunks face the sea; have some replies ready for such an occasion such as "we have only bunks facing the engine left", or if caught with no reply, resort to one –downmanship and heave the thing into the waste paper basket.

Letters which commence with a greeting such as "Dear fellow felon" should be searched for money and then thrown away. Practice a convincing denial of ever having received the letter throwing in a few remarks about the carelessness of the Post Office.

Another type of letter is from a conscientious Secretary and Treasurer suggesting a financial statement. Such letters are bound to arrive as no decent club will tolerate more than one rogue on its committee, and you will be too busy organising the hut to your own advantage to have remembered to send cash to the treasurer.

2. Rules and Regulations. Every Hut must have a number of rules because if they exist, people will break them and this gives the Hut Warden a chance to be one generally. When such rules are drawn up it is imperative to have two things included. These are that, while the Hut Warden’s decision may not be right or fair, it is final., and if there is any rule that you may wish to break at some time or other, get the words "or at the Hut Wardens discretion" added.

3. Tidiness. This is a very sore point for all concerned, and a very difficult subject in which to be one up. The situation is made easier if the Hut warden is bigger and uglier than the largest other member. Failing this, a system of fines can be employed, although this brings us slap up against the difficulty of extracting payment (see section 9). In extreme cases, the Hut Warden can resort to a ploy in Hogmanship (all right – live like pigs if you want to!) or one-downmanship, in which case he does all the work himself.

4. ?????????? & 5. ???????????? At a recent meeting of the “Hut Wardens’ Restrictive Practices and Closed Shop Council”, it was decided that these two items came under the Official Secrets Act and that it would be in the public interest to disclose them. The have accordingly been removed.

6. Book Keeping. Although this is your trump card in one-upmanship, the answer is extremely simple. All that is required is a very large book full of impressive figures, and a book keeping system that it is impossible for any one else to follow. The system must be such that even when the Treasurer doubts your word (as he will if he has any common sense) then you can with an easy heart present him with the book saying "check them for yourself if you like!" It is highly desirable

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No. 131

to use an unusual ink so that if any clever person alters your figures to the correct ones, you can spot this error immediately.

7. Unwanted Visitors. People who are polite enough to write are easily dealt with by a polite reply pointing out that you are fully booked. If they just turn up, a sound ploy is to have a list in readiness showing that all bunks are booked by extremely large and aggressive types who are the moment in some pub drinking fluids which will render them even more large and aggressive on their return.

8. Entry to Premises. Presumably there will be a lock on the door of the Headquarters stolen from some somewhere or other and you can either give all members a key, or keep the only one yourself.

The former is the better ploy as the latter tends to make members feel that they are not wanted (their money is – by you!) and leads to illegal entry.

9. Collection of Hut Fees. The intending Hut Warden should first practice by squeezing small stones until he can wring out a decent quantity of blood every time. He is then nearly ready for the job! The collection of Hut Fees gives many opportunities for the one-upmanship so essential for the job. One method successfully employed is to get up first and extract money from each member as he wakes and is too sleepy to realise the dirty trick you are playing. In extreme cases, the money may be extracted from the victim before he wakes up.

10. Visitations by Custodians of the Law. If the Custodian is a member of the club, perhaps he can be bribed by persuading him to buy you a pint of beer. If not, then mention words like faulty exhaust system, three on a bike etc. Should you be caught red handed by a strange Custodian, offer him a cup of tea (all decent clubs always have a pot on the go) or take him outside and show him two pounds of carbide “stored in a metal vessel or vessels, hermetically closed” and ask him if they are all right within the wording of the Statutory Rules and Orders (1929) No. 992. While this is going on, an accomplice removes all signs etc. If still caught out, tell him they were bought at a jumble sale.

11. Advertising or Blowing your own Trumpet. This is found to be necessary, since it is essential to convince one and all that, under your regime the affairs of the club would, but for your skill at book keeping, have prospered. Large graphs should be drawn, showing impressive progress each year.

These need bear no relation to the real figures. You may wish to attract more people to your ho(t or v)el and this can be done by planting posters in rival establishments stating that you have running water (¼ mile up the road) that your premises are snow and frost proof, that every bunk has a view (of every ether bunk) and bracing fresh air, draughts, etc.

12. Provision of Warmth. This is a debatable question, because if you provide too good a fire, you will not be able to get rid of parasites from other huts when the pubs have closed, also if no heating is provided, more work is done as people have to keep warm somehow.

13. Baker's Dozen. An unlucky number, an:~ the number of pennies in a shilling when the Hut warden is collecting the cash.

Finally, remember that Hut Wardenmanship is a profession, and while not the oldest, is perhaps the most rewarding!

B.M. Ellis, Hut Warden, S.M.C.C. S.J. Collins, Hut warden B.E.C.

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No. 131

THE GREAT GULLY OF CRAIG-YR-ISFA Then there was the time when the two Johns, Attwood and Stafford, Russell Jenkins and I, made our way to Craig-Yr-Isfa. Our intention was to try the Great Gully on that crag. The day was fair, we had an extensive spell (two days) of dry weather, which meant the gully would be in good condition, and we felt fit.

My appetite had been whetted for this particular climb some years ago, when I first visited Craig-Yr-Isfa.

The firm rock and enjoyable situations I had found on the Craig's classis Amphitheatre Buttress and Pinnacle Wall, together with enthusiastic accounts of the climb in several books, led me to believe the Great Gully had something special to offer. It has certainly had a colourful history since it was first climbed by Archer Thompson in 1900, bad weather and short days conspiring to trap even experienced parties between its walls.

Now I was to see for myself.

Reluctantly we turned from the warm, bright May sun to the damp shadows of the Gully. Only hard talking and sly salesmanship had persuaded the others from the delights of an open climb on rough, warm rock, and as they viewed the Gully, I thought my efforts had been for nothing. Fortunately the thought of grinding back round the scree seemed worse than continuing, and so we started.

Russell and I were on one rope and Stafford and Attwood on another. The first few pitches scarcely needed a rope. We scrambled up until we came to the "Door Jamb" which is a large chockstone, normally surmounted by climbing deep snow. In summer the usual way on is a steep groove to the right, and then back into the Gully. The Gully continued looking like seaweed strewn rocks at low tide. At this section a more pleasant, and certainly more dry alternative is up a chimney running parallel with the Gully for forty feet. We found the chimney wet in its upper part but at least the rock was clean.

Above the chimney the gulley floor rose, steeply and roughly, until eighty feet or so on, it levelled and abutted against the dark, slimy rear wall. On either side dank, dripping, green, moss-covered, overhanging walls presented a dismal picture and we were wrapped in gloom. Russell looked at it, and without further consideration gave a quick précis of his thoughts - "No!” he said. I felt inclined to agree, but experience has taught that things are often not what they seem, and many a seemingly impassable place has relented and revealed how it may be overcome if approached boldly. (An invaluable guide in this sort of situation is a loquacious guide book!). My first move after rejecting Russell's implied suggestion, was to walk into the fissure and to examine it with the guide book in mind.

The Chimney, 45 feet. This impressive pitch is climbed back and foot facing right, or by bridging. The walls are set at the maximum distance for these techniques to be possible.

Very Cheering! The lower part of the chimney was too wide for me, but twenty feet or so higher, the gap was narrower. This led me to examine a second possibility.

A short man may have to climb the crack. The crack in the right wall is still probably harder than the original, or not, according to technique.

I felt I was probably long enough in the leg to employ the bridging technique, and I hoped to be able to because the crack, presented as an alternative, looked hard. At the critical part it was vertical and shallow, and although fairly clean, it was running with water.

At this stage, Stafford and Attwood joined me. Russell had wasted no time and had retreated back down the gully, where he had used a break in the gully wall to climb out. Stafford shared our distaste of the green slime, but loyally voiced a true second's opinion that perhaps we could "just look at it". A.F. Mummery in "My climbs in the Alps and the Caucasus" tells a very revealing story about seconding. He was making a first ascent of the Auguille Verte by the Charpoua Glacier, with his guide Burgener (and his bottles of bouvier) and tackling a difficult section:“I paid out my rope whilst Burgener traversed to the left in part along some slabby rocks, and in part on the upper edges of a more or less treacherous crust of ice abutting on them. Eventually, we both had to be on the traverse together Burgener succeeded in hitching his rope over a big splinter above us. As this operation

Page 11 No. 131 seemed to afford him great pleasure, I thought it would be most cruel to object, though, as the splinter wobbled most ominously with the slightest pressure, I prudently unhitched the rope before venturing below it.�

Perfect seconding!

Stafford quietly took over the rope arrangements, and Attwood settled himself to view the proceedings. I tentatively tried to bridge the lower part, but quickly abandoned this in favour of climbing the crack until it narrowed. I tried bridging again and found it easier here until I worked up underneath a large chockstone.

The hard work lay ahead. The walls continued at the same width, but were more or less holdless for about ten feet, after which one may balance across to a platform on the right wall. It seemed possible to use the crack to some extent with my feet, but the left hand wall, against which my back had to go, was smooth with damp moss. I retreated a few feet and placed a running belay in position below the chockstone.

Returning to the next stage, by stretching across the gap supported by my back and boots, and by pushing down with my hands and then wedging with my boots, I gained a few inches at a time. Occasionally holds on the back wall were used. Much struggling and then pauses to gasp air raised me to a point, where only a few feet to go, these methods no longer worked. I gradually realised that, despite great exertion, no progress was being made. Wedged firmly across the gap, with the two Johnnies looking very small immediately below, my hands were sliding off the slippery wall as I pushed down on them, and not having a great deal of energy left, I thought again. Brute force and the other thing were ineffective here, so I tried taking things more gently.

My back and feet were jammed well, so I folded my hands in front of me and started wriggling my shoulder blades.

It worked! Very soon my small back movements and then moving my feet up to keep me jammed, I had gained enough height to enable me to strain forward and reach a hold on the platform. Balancing very delicately across, because there is a tendency to swing sideways and render the handhold ineffective, I slid my leg onto the platform. This left me with enough breath to exchange insults with Stafford.

About twenty to thirty feet of more orthodox climbing led to a large stance where the others joined me, though not without some delay, because my arms had not fully recovered and the rope felt amazingly heavy as I pulled it in.

A short rest did us good, but the sunshine called.

Some scrambling, a short stiff chimney, and then we could see far above our heads what must be the last vast chockstone. At first glance it looked completely unapproachable. Stafford’s blood was up, he approved of what promised to be a most interesting struggle, so he and I went on up the gully, while Russell and Attwood climbed a less intimidating variation.

A shoulder landed Stafford above a short undercut chimney. I followed and then we were able to examine the Great Cave Pitch. It was most unexpected. A short scramble leads one to a floor which is surprisingly near the outer chockstone. Only a move of ten feet and then a short traverse is necessary to reach it. We could see two possibilities, but neither seemed to tie up with what Archer Thompson had to say about his method of climbing onto the large chockstone jammed low above ones head.

By utilizing a small foothold on the right wall, the climber effects a lodgement on it, and then reaches its sharp upper edge by a struggle, in which he comes near to defying all the laws of anatomy. A novel expedient is to lay the palm of the left and on the block, and using the arm as a pivot, perform a pirouette to the south; the climber thus lands in a sitting posture, with one leg thrust upwards to the roof to maintain equilibrium, any Gallio, however, will complacently demand a shoulder.

I buzzed happily and determinedly here and there, effecting lodgements in all the most likely places.

None, however, scorned to demand the contortions described. Meanwhile Stafford, who had wandered off into the darkness behind the low chockstone, called out that I could stop jumping around in that peculiar manner as he had found the place. Confidently I effected the required lodgement - and found no further holds. Stafford tried next, and because he doesn't care, launched himself at the chockstone. To our delight

Page 12 No. 131 he landed on his neck at my feet. It was then I complacently demanded a shoulder. The struggle was short and Stafford soon joined me. The small ledge leading to the chockstone, twenty five feet horizontally, proved interesting but straightforward.

We emerged from the half light of the Great Cave into the welcome sunshine on top of the outer chockstone. As our eyes became accustomed to the stronger light, they revealed that our situation was superb. The chockstone is so placed that the gully drops away from it, so that one may see most of it from top to bottom looking almost vertically down for seven or eight hundred feet. Behind us, nothing but scrambling between low walls and almost horizontally to the finish.

Feeling good inside, and pleasantly tired, with the long sporting climb behind us, and the prospect of a sunny walk with extensive views in front of us, we coiled the rope. As we contentedly moved towards our friends lying in the sun, it was as though behind us lay another, newer, friend. A good climb.

R.S. King. _______________________________________________________________________________________

LADY CHATTERBOX’S COVER

By Ann Gardner A hundred and fifty years ago, Clifton was the home of the elite. Ladies and gentlemen walked the terraces high above the Avon. Slowly the standard declined, until of recent years it has risen sharply by the influx of new blue blood, as the village has again found favour with the elite of the 20th century. Yes? Clifton means the B.E.C., and naturally, their homes are amongst the best in the district. A team of experts have been very recently, and, needless to say, without informing the owners beforehand, conducting an inspection and tour of these stately homes of the B.E.C. Monday the 26th August, 1958 saw Mr & Mrs Y.B. Gardner arriving at the residence of Mr S. J. Collins, who has within the past few weeks, by devious means, provided himself with an apartment in a Georgian house of great character. Although the neighbours and occupants of the same building state that they have never seen the gentleman in question, it can be definitely stated that he does sleep there, amongst other places of course. The lounge of this palatial residence is large and exceptionally high ceilinged, the fireplace is a magnificent wooden affair with cut out hearts and pillars in a type of mahogany. The carvings were brought to my attention by Miss J. Rollason, together with several comments of a dubious nature. The copper whatnot over the actual hole where the smoke goes up, and it is to be presumed out, has a beaten basrelief of either two tulips with drooping leaves or two stylised cats with toothache as opposed to cats on rooftops. The whole is set off by two smears or dribbles of green paint like mixture which has not yet been eradicated. The wall opposite the windows has a large alcove which has many possibilities. The suggestion was made that a more than life sized statue of a popular personage in the club should be erected there but, on revision, no one seemed to fit.

The bedroom could be described as a ballroom or a garage for eight cars and in either case there would still be room for at least 40 people to sleep provided they took up only ten square yards each. Mr Collins has offered British Railways a sub-tenancy of his hallway as a shunting yard. The view from the bedroom is of a well laid lawn with circular flowerbeds and borders and one very old man who is no doubt a fixture.

An extremely long kitchen has all the necessary fittings, a vast selection of beer mugs and the usual tin opener. Off the kitchen is the bathroom from which the usual offices meander off into limbo.

From Mr Collins' home, the party of 4 persons toured the roads of Clifton peering in at all windows at odd bods watching T.V. and indulging in weird and wonderful sports. Mr Hannam’s penthouse was the next port of call. After climbing a long and superb staircase we reached a door. This was duly banged on and after a short while Mr Hannam descended and was prevailed upon to let us in. We crawled the remaining two flights to the sixth floor and proceeded to poke around. Mr Hannam's flat has a wonderful view of Bristol and the surrounding countryside and we were told that on a clear day, "You can see the masts on Blackdown". This is only if the sun should inadvertently appear. Mr Hannam's main room is a rather odd shape with beams, copper kettles, old warming pans and french windows. There is a very interesting stone

Page 13 No. 131 sticking out of one wall, but the company thought it might not be taken too kindly were it removed to test its antiquity. The only drawback to the establishment is the shortage of ashtrays. Mr Hannam appears to be averse to having his shoes used as such. Excellent coffee was provided and it was noted that only three saucers and one spoon were readily available. The kitchen is tastefully decorated in primrose with red covered covers. The bedroom is small, but very comfortable and has the same beautiful view as the main room. Mr. Hannam has found that the strain of sleeping upright in order to enjoy this is somewhat beyond him.

We then proceeded to our respective homes. A further edition in the “Stately Homes” series depends on whether the B.E.C. members will let us in or discover a pressing need to visit and old aunt in South Africa. _______________________________________________________________________________________ Readers may remember an article on “How to write an article for the B.B.” which appeared in July’s issue. In this article, a mythical character called Berty Bodge, writes a number of articles, starting with “My first caving trip.” To our great surprise, shortly after this article appeared, we were sent the following: -

MY FIRST CAVING TRIP A novice’s Impression of Swildons Hole

By Bert Bodge I don’t usually talk about my caving experiences, but on reading in the July Belfry Bulletin how anxious you all are to hear about my adventures down Swildons Hole, I took my pencil in hand and decided to oblige.

I must say that before I begin that I think Alfie has got a bit in front with his dates, as I had ALREADY BEEN before in September. I would like to say too that the programme he has drawn up for me is a bit too stiff for a novice (and only an amateur one at that). Who the blankety-blank could write a poem, “When you are climbing up a ladder?”

Well, back to Swildons. I went to the cave with a party of five; myself, ‘rat’, the leader, Rosemary, Richard and Michael – all medical students (except me) and all new to caving except Rat. We filled our lamps with water at a delightful stream and put on our helmets. Mine is too big. The only way I can get it to stay on is by wedging it sideways on my skull, a painful process. Otherwise it just falls over my eyes and blacks everything out. While I was fixing it on, my companions must have gone below. When I looked up, I was alone. A villainous looking grating lay open in the ground and voices issued forth – already “booming”.

My spirits fell. I scribbled a short note saying where I had gone, and containing a few simple instructions for the disposal of my effects in case I did not return and hung it on a branch of a tree above the grating.

Regretfully, I lowered myself in. It was dark and it was wet, at least I think so. From round a bend in the passage the voice of ‘rat' came as he harangued me for five minutes, telling me to use a dry foothold, while I sat in the stream and tried to understand. Eventually he realised that I was already sitting in the water and that it didn't matter. He was very put out. Richard and Michael waited impatiently - quite dry. Rosemary had gone into sort private limbo of her own and was unheard, unseen, a muddy little ghost. She said she was frightened. I didn't say anything.

Rat was way ahead, shouting boisterously. The chasm deepened; the torrent resounded; the rocks shone orange/pink in the fitful light. (I remember thinking how horrible a colour it looked) I wasn’t too well disposed towards any old rocks, I spent so many minutes wondering how to get over then or, if they won the battle, whether I should slip. Oh, Bodge! I was fully occupied all the time except when my mind returned to the letter on the tree. Ghastly thought - somebody might have read it - and my boot would tremble as it paused over a meagre crevice. (That Bert Bodge survived, readers, is yet another example of the triumph of mind over matter. The letter was retrieved, torn into a thousand fragments, from the munching molars of a friendly cow. Meanwhile behold him, still in peril, ignorant of this fortunate chance.)

A voice cried "We're lost!" The party rushed right and left. I stayed at my “Halt” sign, which was in the form of a large rounded rock situated on the edge of the stream passage which was exercising all my

Page 14 No. 131 ingenuity to vanish, when “Back the other way!” – a splendid idea. They all rushed off. I was still on the rock being very careful, as I know how. Lord, the strain on my bootlaces.

Eventually we stopped in a grotto. Rat searched for an exit while we sat tight. We knew what to do all right! Then we walked a bit more back the way we had cone. Caves are very boring. Rat said we were now going out. I could scarcely speak at all; my voice stuck in my throat, I felt so tense that when I came to do the last squeezy bit my emotions had taken all the strength away from my arms and legs. I have not mentioned how I was allowed to climb on a faulty ladder because I have bean told to keep quiet about it. I feel very strongly indeed about faulty ladders and will write a letter about them one day, as Alfie suggests. I am not allowed to say how I hurt my feet - suffice to point out that I am now inconvenienced by having to wear my boots at night as I cannot get then off. Well, cavers, that concludes my little jaunt and if you can help me out of my boots, you’re a better man than I am! (Has anyone got a saw?) In conclusion, I would like to state that I found my trip to Swildons a most interesting an instructive introduction to the art of caving and I strongly advise anyone who may be contemplating a descent to follow my example and act before they think – sorry, look before they leap – into this most enjoyable of sports.

Janet Boot. _______________________________________________________________________________________ We hope, as this bit of the B.B. is printed, that we will be able to include elsewhere in this number, some reference to the very stout effort recently put up by the diving party who managed to get a diver through an eighty foot sump and hence discover Swildons 6. We hope they will forgive the bit of nonsense which follows: -

SONNET A few years back, one did a Swildons Hole By going from the entrance to the sump.

Or, if you wanted more, you made your goal To enter Swildons II, and extra limp.

Then came Black Hole And odd assorted Bells St. Paul’s, Damascus and more Till, hacking bits away for longish spells, Some caving types discovered Swildons IV. Another sump, and into Swildons V They swam, and into Swildons V They swam, and then went right ahead to fix A trip in which some eighty feet of dive Was mastered, thus revealing Swildons VI. We’ll find, if divers progress at this rate That Wookey IX is Swildons XXXVIII!

_______________________________________________________________________________________ THE BELFRY BULLETIN FOR CHRISTMAS 1958. Editor, S.J. Collins