Cavers: Chris Scaife, Chris Kelly, Don Miller, Alex Ritchie

We did the classic trip to the sump. All of us had done this before, but none of us recently so our memories of it might not have been crystal clear. Surprisingly, when we arrived at the entrance there were three other cavers about to plunge into the depths. We sat in the sun and gave them half an hour’s head start.

The entrance crawl was cold as ice, but easy as pie. And much like a cooling pie (or at least a soufflé that has been taken out of the oven too soon) it loses height as time goes by, with the ceiling lowering as one approaches the first pitch. Nonetheless, it’s not quite flat out and faces can be kept out of the water. The other three were still on the pitch when we arrived, but soon shot off into the distance. There’s a fair bit of crawling/stooping before the second pitch, then just pitch pitch pitch in the cold water, with a few free climbs here and there to keep the muscles moving.

Following the stream the whole way certainly makes for an invigorating day’s caving and parts of Penyghent Pot are truly awesome. It really is one of the best caves in the land.

On the walk in, all was warm and dry, with Three Peaks walkers gallivanting merrily all around us, their gay abandon matched only by our own excitement at revisiting this underground paradise; but we exited the cave into a cold and dark night, accompanied only by Jack Frost’s biting embrace. A rapid descent to Brackenbottom ensued, where our friends at the Bradford Pothole Club welcomed us with open arms.