This post got me remembering: https://forums.macrumors.com/threads/what-movie-are-you-watching.1069107/post-28938601
Having not seen this movie, I used to go caving in my 20s and thought it was great fun, but recognized the danger of hypothermia if one was to get stuck or lost. I’ll credit my youngest brother for sparking the interest in caving. My first cave was on a school outing of his that I followed along.
Wool was the preferred clothing. All of the caving I did was in Virginia and wild and wonderful West Virginia.
We used to carry markers to drop and mark the return path and made a point of looking behind us in complex areas so we would recognize which way we came from. We did vertical caving relying on ropes and climbing gear. Parachute harnesses were in demand.
I’d be hard pressed to name several of the caves I visited in the 1970-1980 time frame, but two names stand out Arbogast (Tucker County) near my Grandparents farm, and Hell Hole (Germany Valley) , neither were commercial, just holes back in the mountains or in the middle of a field.
For Arbogast on one interesting visit we brought our girl friends. We told my Aunt who’s house we were staying at, if we were not back by midnight, call for rescue! We parked off a small country road by the Cheat River, crossed the river via a swinging bridge then hiked up the back side of the ridge to the main cave entrance that we were aware of. There was another smaller entrance where you had to slither down a muddy hole full of cave crickets, but this time we had the girls and my two brothers. Nothing unusual happened just, fun crawling around.
When it was time to leave, the way we came up after crossing the river was to circle around and follow the ridge of the mountain to get to the cave. My bright idea was to cut some time off our return by heading straight down the mountain from the cave entrance directly to the river and follow it back to The swinging bridge.
My youngest brother objected, but I over ruled him and down we went a very steep decline. This has become family lore so to speak. When we got to the bottom, we discovered that the mountain was almost vertical into the river, and in the direction we needed to go became an almost sheer vertical drop. We could not follow the river, and our only option was to climb back up to where we started. This was in the Fall and by this time it was starting to get dark and light snow was falling, our girls who were not overly athletic, were pooping out on us, and we virtually had to push them, pull them back up the steep slope, steep enough where you needed hand holds at points. We made it up and it was now dark, and luckily we found the path and made it back to the car, no rescue required.
en.wikipedia.org
nsscon2020.org
Having not seen this movie, I used to go caving in my 20s and thought it was great fun, but recognized the danger of hypothermia if one was to get stuck or lost. I’ll credit my youngest brother for sparking the interest in caving. My first cave was on a school outing of his that I followed along.
Wool was the preferred clothing. All of the caving I did was in Virginia and wild and wonderful West Virginia.
We used to carry markers to drop and mark the return path and made a point of looking behind us in complex areas so we would recognize which way we came from. We did vertical caving relying on ropes and climbing gear. Parachute harnesses were in demand. I’d be hard pressed to name several of the caves I visited in the 1970-1980 time frame, but two names stand out Arbogast (Tucker County) near my Grandparents farm, and Hell Hole (Germany Valley) , neither were commercial, just holes back in the mountains or in the middle of a field.
For Arbogast on one interesting visit we brought our girl friends. We told my Aunt who’s house we were staying at, if we were not back by midnight, call for rescue!
We parked off a small country road by the Cheat River, crossed the river via a swinging bridge then hiked up the back side of the ridge to the main cave entrance that we were aware of. There was another smaller entrance where you had to slither down a muddy hole full of cave crickets, but this time we had the girls and my two brothers. Nothing unusual happened just, fun crawling around.When it was time to leave, the way we came up after crossing the river was to circle around and follow the ridge of the mountain to get to the cave. My bright idea was to cut some time off our return by heading straight down the mountain from the cave entrance directly to the river and follow it back to The swinging bridge.
My youngest brother objected, but I over ruled him and down we went a very steep decline. This has become family lore so to speak.
When we got to the bottom, we discovered that the mountain was almost vertical into the river, and in the direction we needed to go became an almost sheer vertical drop. We could not follow the river, and our only option was to climb back up to where we started. This was in the Fall and by this time it was starting to get dark and light snow was falling, our girls who were not overly athletic, were pooping out on us, and we virtually had to push them, pull them back up the steep slope, steep enough where you needed hand holds at points. We made it up and it was now dark, and luckily we found the path and made it back to the car, no rescue required.
Hellhole (cave) - Wikipedia
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