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I published this in NSS-CDS, Underwater Speleology, Vol. 18, No 6
November / December, 1991.
About two weeks ago I posted "PANIC, can we talk", to Techdiver, and
rec, scuba . With the good response I received I thaught this would be
a good follow up article.
A SINKHOLE CAVE IN
by Edward Stoner (nss #32613)
In 1988, not wanting to make the long haul to north Florida from
Orlando, I dove a local sink with my wife, Denise. This dive had been
planned for some time. Both Denise and I worked as part-time
instructors at a local dive shop, the owner of which had certified both
of us as cave divers. He gave us the location and orientation to the
downstream section of this system. Finding the sink wasn't easy and
encompassed a trek into the woods that lasted until noon. A trip to
north Florida would only have taken four hours. An efficiency expert in
time management, I am not.
Upon finding the sink came the proverbial statement from my wife,
"You've got to be kidding! Do you think I'm going to get doubles down
into that hole?" She was right; on our first dive I took her doubles
down. While dropping 50' down the edge of the sink, covered with slick
clay, holding on to a knotted rope, her words of
encouragement--"That-a-boy, sweetheart!--rang in my ears.
But my struggle was soon forgotten with the refreshing feeling of water
entering my wetsuit. After our equipment safety check and S-Drill, we
found ourselves floating through the cavern, my reel laying line
effortlessly as we descended deeper into the darkness of the sink. We
detected evidence of a subtle current as we approached the Junction
Room. We followed the downstream restriction, then passed through a low
tunnel where we entered the main phreatic system. Again, we were cave
diving, this time at home.
After two mini-circuits, turning on air calculated for this siphon, we
returned to the cavern. Our decompression was short: 11 minutes.
Resting at the surface, looking up at the sky, only one thing was going
through my mind, that the next 20 minutes would prove that there are
mountains in Florida. That was three years ago.
The next five dives took place in a 30-day time frame during 1991. What
happened in this short period gives food for thought concerning the
stability of the upstream portion of this system. Two friends of mine
asked me to dive this local sink. It could have been the mountain that
kept me from saying yes on the spot. But I did give directions on how
to locate this sink to my friends about a year ago. At that time one of
them was investigating a couple of new primary lighting systems and I
recommended someone who could custom build him a unit. After discussing
a custom light, a downstream dive was planned.
Now, in order to protect the privacy of the individuals involved, their
names have been changed. On Dive One, Jerry and Sam ventured to the
terminal room to a penetration of 1067'. A couple of days later Dive
Two found Sam, Mary and I doing the downstream run. Dive Three upstream
found Jerry and Sam digging out the restriction that keeps most cave
divers from venturing in this direction.
At this time I would like to describe the condition of the last room
upstream. This room, about 50' by 100', was in pristine condition with
no signs of diving activity in the past few years. The floor was
velvety smooth with no silt disturbance. Dive Four found Sam and Mary
again digging through the entrance restriction and venturing to the last
room. This time it was noted that the floor was pock marked.
Golf-ball-size depressions had appeared throughout the room and trails
of falling ceiling percolation lay along the curved sides of the walls.
Dive Five..."Now for the rest of the story." This was my first dive
upstream. The day started fine: my truck was rear-ended on Highway 434
in Longwood. One hour later, with a goose egg on the back of my head, I
rendezvoused with Sam and Mary at the dive site. Mary is a sight to
behold; she can't weigh more than 100 lbs.; her doubles cover 90% of her
body as she walks down my mountain. I'm 45 years old, I work out three
times a week, put 60 miles a week on my bicycle--so why is my face so
red? Oh, well!
Now I've been through my share of restrictions but come on folks, this
was side-mount country! The shape of this restriction was like an
hourglass. Slowly, I let all the air out of my wings; visibility was at
zero. Using hand-to-leg contact, we progressed inch by inch. As I got
to the tightest area the team slowed, each one knowing our predetermined
touch signals. I had to force about 2" into the floor, my tanks against
the ceiling as I exhaled to move forward.
Finally I was clear, I was on the other side. I gave the leg signal for
the three of us to hit our inflators. Slowly we rose out of the gloom
into cobalt-blue water. From here on we would be in an advanced, very
technical cave dive. I knew our capabilities, that the three of us
could glide inches above the floor, with not a sign of our presence ever
showing. If I hadn't known my partners' abilities, I would not have
been there.
Another 50' and we broke out of the low ceiling. The next sight took my
breath away! I had never thought of silt as a thing of beauty. Never
had I heard in my talks with fellow cave divers of anyone raving about
beautiful silt formations. My heart skipped a beat; I knew my buoyancy
was good. I dared not scar the sight in front of me. A deep spring
vent over years and years of time had burst through the floor on the
side of this big room. The silt on the leading edge was that of a
perfect crescent moon about 8' in height, peaked at the top to a fine
razor's edge. Its texture was that of a pure velvet dress in a rich
amber hue.
Ever so gently our team traversed the room close to the cave ceiling so
as not to awaken the sleeping beauty. Trust me, narcosis was not upon
me as our depth in this room was only 60'. We glided on through a small
restriction that opened to a very large room. A "T" in the line went
straight up into a huge dome in the ceiling calling for exploration. No
one gave a signal, but the team, thinking as one, ascended over a
natural bridge formation to the dome above. Awesome! I had never seen
so many fossils of complete vertebrates decorating a cave before. Here
were the full skeletal remains of prehistoric turtles and opossum-like
creatures. There were sea biscuits as big as my hand, and my mind was
trying to document the site before me.
I caught an "OK" signal and returned it on the wall before me. A quick
air check and we descended to venture on. We were flying, gliding, up
through a chimney into a craggy low restriction-like tunnel on our way
to the last room. The room was just ahead. I saw Sam up front, and
Mary was just entering the room. But what was going on? Who was behind
me? Someone was grabbing my legs with great strength! My God, could an
open-water diver have secretly followed us up to this point and now be
in a panic state? But it couldn't be, as I always check the cave behind
me. My legs were pinned to the floor! As I spun around, I didn't like
what I saw. Heavy silt scattered the rays of my light. Through this
cloud, rocks were falling like rain on me. A cave in! I pulled hard
and freed my legs. Still it was raining rocks in the low restriction.
I was surprised at how calm I was. My heart rate had gone up before I
realized what was happening. But now it was out of my hands. I needed
to get out my slate and inform Sam and Mary. But no! Why should I? I
would wait.
We were in the last room now and Sam tied off a safety line. As we
traversed the room, Sam noted its condition. This time the silt was
marked with even more craters. At the same time the ceiling was
percolating limestone the size of quarters, marking the cave floor. I
noticed a surprised look coming from Mary--then Sam. A rock the size of
a large van was in the room. A white limestone dome over it made a
shocking contrast to the black ceiling above. Tree roots were seen
sticking out of this white dome. After a moment the realization struck
me that this huge rock had fallen after last week's dive.
An air check, then a turn around was called. I approached the
restriction before the others, and I was now the lead man. It looked
okay, as if we could pass. The debris on the floor was equal to that of
a few orange crates. We took our time going out, but visibility wasn't
all that bad in the main rooms.
The exit restriction was just as bad as before--last one in, first one
out eats the silt of the whole team. One hour had passed. I felt good;
as a whole it was a great dive. If I ever go upstream again, it will
only be to the dome room. The cave appears to be stable to that point,
but beyond the chimney--never again! Sam has related his findings to
Jerry, and with conditions as reported, Jerry said he wouldn't go back
to the last room again.
Now for a sad note. You can drive up to this sink today. Back in 1988
you had to haul your equipment in. The use of this sink by open-water
divers is evident. Two weeks ago a truck drove up with two divers. I
asked if they were going to dive. One said he was a cave diver, the
other, a cavern diver. I inspected their equipment, all of it new
open-water equipment, with not a scratch to be seen! Only one light
each, and not even one line reel. I took the diver recovery manual out
of my truck and asked them if I should call the morgue before or after
their dive. Recently someone installed a 1/2" nylon rope from the
surface all the way to the permanent lines. If that someone is reading
this, I want to thank you for the new rope in the back of my pickup!
Copyright (c) - Ed Stoner - 10/1991
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