Back from the Deep End

Well, I survived my deep Mexico caving shananigans.  However, the cave did not easily reveal its secrets.  After a rocky start with the local politicians, our group eventually got permission to go up the mountain and begin the expedition.  I arrived shortly thereafter as the first trips into the cave began.  A lot of work was needed in order to improve the rigging, fix the phone line (yes a cave phone), and equip the camps.  On top of that, of course, we had to get a ton a diving gear to the sump, which is 2-3 days travel from the surface.  It took a team of about 12 people one full month of hard work to accomplish the task.  We then sent the first two divers into the sump, James and Jose.  Their job was to continue underwater exploration until they had a major above-water continuation, and then to rig the sump for travel and camping beyond.  This included running the phone line through the sump and rigging a 9-mm climbing rope through so that divers hauling camp gear could simply pull themselves through the sump.

As the dive began, most the rest of us anxiously awaited news in base camp.  James had previously dove the first sump and found another sump beyond.  Our assumption was that this sump would also have to be cracked.  However, Jose and James returned with news that they had found a large dry continuation between the two sumps that seemed to bypass the second sump.

A polish caver, Marcin, and I were the lucky ones who were in line for the first follow up exploration on the far side.  We saddled heavy loads to replace some of the consumables used up in the first dives, as well as gear and food for more than a week in the cave and exploration beyond the sump. Three days later we were at the sump.  It took a couple of hours to ready the dive gear and get suited up, and then we made the dive into the unknown territory beyond – prepared to stay for a while.  During the rest of that day we found a good place to set up camp and began surveying the passages beyond the sump, which included a massive chamber between the two sumps that we called “The Land Between the Lakes.”  With the next day of survey we discovered that we were in a large flood water maze, where everything was coated in mud.  Unfortunately, the cave didn’t seem to be going anywhere in particular.  We did discover one large passage that went in the right direction for several hundred meters before it was blocked by flowstone up high and a lake down low.

The next day we returned to the lake with our dry suits and swam across to see if we could find a continuation beyond.  Unfortunately, it was sumped, but we felt that this must be the way on.  We spent two more days pushing leads and surveying the maze.  Finally, on our last day, Marcin decided to do a reconaissance dive into the sump, which we had named “Lake 41.” He could only use a little air, since we needed to have enough for the trip out, but he had enough to do a short recon.  The sump was only about 25 meters long, but surfaced in another chamber enclosed by flowstone.  He decided that the continuation must be underwater somewhere, but he just didn’t enough air to spend more time looking.  Later that day we returned through the first sump with 870 meters of new survey but only 2 meters of added depth.  We began the long trip out from the sump and were on the surface two days later.  Elizabeth had arrived in base camp and greeted me at the entrance as we surfaced after 8 days underground.

That was to be my last trip deep into the cave before I left for home, but Bill and Jose returned in the remaining weeks of the expedition.  It turned out that the way on was through Lake 41, but they still didn’t crack the sump.  They found an underwater continuation that went for 350 meters, surfacing in several small air bells, but never opening up into dry passage.  It continued, but they ran out of time and resources for further diving, so deeper exploration will have to wait for the future.  You can find some excellent photos of our expedition taken by Marcin Gala and Kasia Bernacka here.

-Matt, the elder brother

Marcin and I celebrating the fact that we're at Camp 4 - beyond the sump! Photo by Marcin Gala.

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Marcin returning from his dive in Lake 41. Photo by Matt Covington.

Me on the way out through the first sump. Yes, my mask kept horifically filling with water. Next time I'm taking my own. Photo by Marcin Gala.

Gone off the deep end?

For many years now I have decried cave diving as a pursuit of the insane – so dangerous that no reasonable person would engage in it.  In fact, many ‘dry’ cavers have this view of their underwater brethren.  However, in the last 6 months I have embarked on a journey that has taken me into the world of underwater caving.  Obviously, to all those loved ones around me who have long heard my tales of the perils of cave diving, the question arises – have I gone nuts?  Over the last few months I have constantly found myself back-paddling from my previous statements, explaining to those around me what exactly it is that I am doing and why I think it’s ok.  So, let me tell you my story.

First off, sumps (places where a previously above-the-water cave goes completely underwater) are one of the chief banes of dry cave exploration.  Often, a cave reaches it’s ‘end’ when it goes underwater.  However, it is also often the case that miles of dry cave lie just on the far side of a sump.  For several years now I have participated in the exploration and survey of a new deep cave in Mexico, J2.  J2 is hydrologically a part of the greater Sistema Cheve, which could ultimately be the deepest cave in the world with almost 2600 meters of depth potential.  The hope is that J2 is the key to the currently un-accessed central portion of Sistema Cheve.  Over three years we explored deeper and deeper into J2.  However, in 2006 this effort was ultimately halted by a sump.  For several weeks we attempted to find a bypass to the sump but had no luck.  The team hauled enough gear to the bottom of the cave for a single cave dive.  The sump proved to be 150 meters long and quite shallow.  After the sump the cave emerged into a large chamber and flowed into a second sump.  This information was enough to know that any further effort at that route would require a significant diving expedition.  However, given the position of the cave passage far above the resurgence, there is likely to be significant dry cave beyond the sump, dry cave that could hold the key to breaking into the true depths of Cheve.

This tantalizing lead got the wheels turning for Bill Stone, the expedition leader.  In the three years since, he has gotten together with Poseidon to develop a new version of his Cis Lunar line of rebreathers, the Discovery Cis Lunar Mark VI.  This rebreather is lighter, more compact, and simpler to use than the previous models.  It is actually designed as a ’sport’ rebreather to be used even for initial dive certification courses.  Along with this new technology, Bill has concocted a plan for a serious push beyond the J2 sumps.  The central problem in this sort of exploration is that there are very few experienced cave divers who are also accomplished enough dry cavers to make the journey to a place like J2.  In cave diving, the standard is to roll your vehicle up to the dive site, flop into the water, and go.  In contrast, J2 requires 2-3 days of challenging, physical, vertical caving just to reach the edge of the water.

Since there is such a small group of people capable of both of these activities, Bill has taken to training expedition cavers to pass sumps.  For the case of J2, we have a core group of 4 -5 experienced cave divers who will be conducting all exploratory dives in the sumps.  If they are capable of finding a route through the sump into dry passage beyond, and if that route is not too long, too deep, or too technically challenging, then we have a secondary dive team prepared to follow behind in order to push the dry cave beyond.  The exploration divers will rig a 9 mm climbing rope through the sumps.  Since this rope is strong, it will be possible to pull ourselves through the sump, greatly reducing the time needed to traverse the sump and the possibility of navigational error.  While it doesn’t remove all danger, this means of travel through the sump greatly reduces the risk factors involved in the dive.  When this plan was unveiled, I and a number of other cavers who had never before considered cave diving decided that this specific sort of cave diving carried with it a low enough risk factor and high enough reward that we were willing to take it on. Given the nature of the known sump and the method of travel through it I think that there is more risk of serious injury on the trip into the cave than there is in the sump itself.

Once I had had this internal debate, the time came to discuss my desires with Elizabeth.  I had promised her that I would never go cave diving (after all, only crazy people did that right?), and I took that commitment seriously.  I would only go if I could convince her that this was a reasonable exception to the general rule that I don’t cave dive.  Much to my surprise, she fairly calmly told me that she thought this was OK.  Her main fear was that I would become addicted to cave diving and want to do it a lot.  Admittedly, I had some of that fear myself.  We decided that any cave diving I did we would discuss on a case-by-case basis.  Thus began my dabbling in cave diving.

In the early fall, 15 cavers and divers converged in Austin, Texas at Bill’s ranch for a week of dive training on a beta version of the new rebreathers.  It is always incredible to get that many focused and like-minded individuals together in one place all working toward the same goal.  Despite the beta state of the rebreathers we were all able to do a number of successful dives and learn the ins and outs of the new gear.  Overall it was an intense and productive week.  We discussed rebreather theory, learned how to take the rigs apart, learned how to put them together, learned how to fix them when they weren’t working properly, completed a number of pool dives, and finally headed into the open water.  The week culminated with a series of night dives pulling ourselves along on a rope underwater and simulating the conditions of J2. Below you can see some photos from the week.

-Matt, the elder brother (who really hasn’t gone crazy, and that’s the story he’s sticking to)

An early week session on rebreather theory. Photo Matt Covington.

Heading out for a dive on one of the rigs at Lake Travis. Photo: Andrey Bizyukin.

The team.

The Hand-Off (Part V)

Over breakfast, Stephen strained himself trying to recall the events of the previous night. Although it was hard to remember exactly what had happened, the fact that something really had happened was clearly set in his mind. It wasn’t a dream. He just knew. Plus, how else would he explain the extra set of tracks leading up to his door. Also, if it had occurred to him that he was actually eating breakfast, which he was never in the habit of doing previously, he would have known beyond all doubt. But the change that had taken place in him last night was too deep and too pervasive for him to notice.

Stephen was accustomed to laying around watching TV on Sundays, but today he knew he had to get out and take care of something. The fact that he didn’t know exactly what it was he had to do, or where he had to go, didn’t really bother him. After shaving and taking a shower, Stephen dressed and got ready to go out, but he first thought: “No, I really need to clean this place up a little first.”

…

While Stephen furiously cleaned his apartment, a man walked resolutely out of a narrow alleyway with a small brown package in his hands. It looked much like a gift wrapped in parcel paper. It even had a string tied around it and a note fixed to the top. The man’s collar was turned up to hide his neck, and the gray fedora that crowned his head tilted down in the front to obscure his face, if he had one.

…

After two hours, his apartment was almost spotless. Stephen proved to be a surprisingly fast cleaner, considering how out of practice he was. His mindless determination fueled him. He was now ready to face the task at hand. He put on his heavy winter coat, stepped outside and locked the door. Then he began to forge a new set of tracks in the snow, this time heading perpendicular to the other two sets. He was on his way to the office, or toward the office I should say. He wouldn’t make it that far, at least not today anyway.

Stephen entered the subway station located several blocks north of his apartment, just as if he were heading to work. And, just as if he were heading to work, he boarded the Blue Line with his freshly swiped ticket in his hand. Again, just as usual, he sat down in the next to last row in his car. There were two details, however, that were out of the ordinary this morning. The first was how few people there were on the car, but then again, it was a Sunday, not a weekday. The second, and more importantly, the significant discrepancy between this subway ride and any other trip to work, was that Stephen sat down on the left side of the car, not the right. And next to him in the seat was a brown package wrapped in parcel paper. It had a string tied around it and a note attached to the top. Stephen flipped open the card out of impulse, though he didn’t need to read the five words written upon it in scratchy handwriting. He already knew what it said: “Just wait. You will know.”

-James, the younger brother

The Nietzsche Family Circus

I saw this over on 20 Times Around the Block.  Pretty entertaining:

http://www.losanjealous.com/nfc/

-Matt, the elder brother

The Coverture (Part IV)

During Stephen’s befuddlement the faceless man was on the move.  He had left the park and begun a brisk walk across the city.  Drawn upon a map, his walk might appear as a drunken stumble, or perhaps as the sort of path that two lovers would take with no aim except to prolong their journey.  However, he moved with great purpose – five blocks to the north, two to the west, one to the south, three to the east, and so it went.

At last he rounded a corner into an abandoned alley.  Midway down the block lay a steaming grate.  As the dark man reached the grate he gave a quick glance to assure that he was alone.  In a flash he had lifted the grate and disappeared beneath the street. Though a much more comfortable temperature than the air above, the atmosphere of the tunnel reeked of the city’s filth.  A filth that had been washed from above only to decay and mildew in the sewers below.  The man proceeded, stooping down the tunnel toward the sound of rushing water.  He needed no light, as he knew the way well.  The small passage emptied into a larger one with a small waterfall that spewed forth a putrid mist.  The man strode silently along the channel, wasting no time.  Within minutes he reached a portal in the wall, slid it open, and stepped inside.  With the flip of his wrist, the room glowed.  It stood in stark contrast to the sewer that surrounded him.  The room was neat, clean, and basked in an amiable light.

…

Stephen awoke in his bed.  “What happened?” he thought to himself.  At this time in his life it was often difficult to differentiate waking and sleeping.  It was still dark outside.  At least he had fallen asleep, but he still felt so tired.  “Was it a dream?”  He rose from his bed once again, stumbled through the cluttered room, and out into the living room walking immediately to the mountain of clothes.  His worn out jeans rested at the top of the pile.  Snatching them up he felt inside the pocket.  It wasn’t there.  It was then that his gaze fell upon snowy tracks leading in from the front door.  A ping of adrenaline hit him as he realized that it was not one set of snowy tracks, but two.

…

In the warm glow of his workshop the faceless man bent over his table.  A pair of scissors lay beside him.  His spindly fingers worked a needle and thread, back and forth, back and forth, as he sewed shut a gaping hole in the back of an Elmo doll.

-Matt, the elder brother

It’s kinda cold out….Well yer darn tootin’

We’ve finally gotten more or less settled into our house in Saint Paul.  Over the last week things have taken a turn for the cooler.  We’re experiencing our first temperatures that even the hardened Minnesotans think are pretty cold.  We’ve had two mornings this week with temps around -20 F, and today it barely eeked its way up to zero.  Saturday and Sunday will be a welcome change if the forecasted highs in the positive 20’s are correct.  I had wondered what it would be like to be outside in -20 F.  In my experiences so far it doesn’t seem like there was much qualitatively different from temps around zero (though of course the cold seeps in more quickly).  The one real difference I did notice was in breathing -20 F air.  If you breathe in too quickly then you get a strong cough reflex (or at least Elizabeth and I do).  Seems like exercising hard in that sort of temperature would be interesting.  Maybe your lungs would get used to it.  I would probably just get asthma.

Today when we went out to run an errand, I couldn’t get the truck to start.  The syrupy oil in the engine just bogged it down too much.  Luckily our car reluctantly started and we went on our merry way.

Now that I am starting to emerge from the chaos that has been my life over the last 6 months, I expect that I can be more diligent in my posting.  In fact I have experienced plenty of blog-worthy moments over the last 6 months.  Over the next few weeks I plan on unleashing a barrage of personal updates to catch up.  This may mean that the blog will be a bit weighted to me rather than James for a while unless he wants to reciprocate.  Sometime in the next week I will start by releasing the next installment of our current fiction project.  Keep your eyes peeled.

Here’s a photo of Elizabeth after we shoveled the walk in our front yard.  The snow is piling up.

First (or Last?) Snow of the Year

Last night, Allison and I were both amazed when we heard something hard and icy hitting the window.  We looked outside, and it was snowing.  I wasn’t even aware that there was precipitation in the forecast.  It only snowed for about an hour, but the flakes were HUGE.  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen such big snowflakes.  This morning there was snow on our car.  The weird thing is that it’s supposed to be up to 70 again this weekend.  Go figure.

James, the younger brother

Conscription: (Part III)

Stephen looked up at the man’s face–if it could be called a face. Although Stephen could discern the outline of a wirey mouth beneath a slender nose, the accompanying pair of eyes were nowhere to be found. Anyone in his right mind who thinks he is alone is naturally startled by the unanticipated discovery that he is not, particularly when it is dark outside, not to mention when it is well below freezing and snow is falling endlessly from above. On any other night, perhaps Stephen, too, would have been frightened, but not tonight. Somehow, the circumstances were too weird. It couldn’t possibly be coincidence that this man without a face now stood behind Stephen on the dock. For an instant, Stephen had the feeling that he was the hero of some great epic, or the protagonist of a tragic novel; only he realized that just as a character, however willful he may be, is powerless to contest the author’s desires, so he, too, was governed by the cold hand of fate. It was at this moment that Stephen rose to his feet.

(It may seem to the reader that these several thoughts occurred singularly in Stephen’s mind, and that he was staring blankly at the man looming darkly over him, but in reality they occurred to him concurrently. To the reader what may seem like a few minutes was only a few moments in Stephen’s mind.)

When Stephen got up, the dock groaned for the third time on that otherwise still and soundless night. Snowflakes still fell perilously, yet peacefully into the lake behind him. Stephen was preparing to ask the man why he had followed him onto the dock, when he was addressed by the mysterious other:

“You are probably wondering why I am wandering around at such a late hour of the night, but it would be just as reasonable for me to ask you the same question. The difference between us, though, is that I know why you have come here tonight. You couldn’t sleep.”

“No,” answered Stephen, his mind in a fog and his voice suddenly seeming distant, as if being channeled through a long tunnel. “I couldn’t. But how did you know?”

“I knew,” he started, “because…well, let’s just say that I knew, because it always starts this way. It’s far too complicated to get into right now, and we’d both surely freeze before I finished explaining it all. Plus, I simply don’t have the time at the moment. I have pressing matters to attend to. But Stephen…”

When he heard his name, Stephen regained his focus and returned to the present. “Yes, I understand. You can’t leave until I give it to you. It’s just that…” Stephen trailed off.

“No! That is simply out of the question,” the man insisted. “It must be done tonight. Give it to me.”

Stephen reached his hand into his coat pocket and drew out a shiny black case, the same one he had fortuitously gotten from his jeans’ pocket before leaving home. Some of its gleam was now gone, since the moon had slipped behind a cloud, though its rectangular frame could still be made out in the neon glow of the electric lights reflecting off the snow. Without any further thought and mindless of the necessary consequences, Stephen responded obediently and extended his hand. This was quite possibly the first time in Stephen’s life that he had ever complied so gracefully to a command, but as you will find out, it wasn’t the last.

The dock moaned and rocked beneath Stephen’s feet, as the other man received the case gratefully and turned to disappear into the night. Then he paused suddenly and twisted around again. “By the way, you will hear again from us soon,” the man plainly said and, almost as an afterthought, added “and tie your shoes. You wouldn’t want to trip and fall in the cold snow.” He then turned again and wandered into the falling snow.

There were many times in Stephen’s life that he thought back on this moment with mystery and awe, but at present, he stood alone contemplating nothing for at least a quarter of an hour, while he was silently shrouded in snow. Then, as if woken from a hypnotic sleep, he squatted down, tied his shoes, and mechanically marched away from the pond and onto the wintry sidewalk. The dock groaned for the fifth and final time that night, as Stephen disappeared into the distance. By this time, Stephen’s face had grown blue with the cold, and he would have enjoyed a cup of hot chocolate to warm his hands and face, but he wasn’t heading home, not yet at least. Stephen feet sank rhythmically into the freshly fallen snow. He walked as if with great purpose.