May 6th - The Waitomo Caves

I will gladly jump out a plane, throw myself from a bridge, or plummet off a 7m waterfall, but don’t ask me to go caving. The sport of caving, by definition, states that an individual in a cave is not a caver until they have attempted to find their way without maps or a guide. This often involves squeezing through tight spaces and discovering new passageways by travelling underwater. I can now officially add caving to my curriculum vitae. Kelsey and I, along with our recent addition Simon Lee, drove west from Rotorua to the Waitomo Caves, an area of hilly farmland that upon closer inspection resembles Swiss cheese. Waitomo is covered in hundreds of caves and holes of all shapes and sizes, many of which have tours running through them featuring various adventure activities. We decided upon one called Rap, Raft, and Rock. If you’re a bit slow that means rappelling, rafting, and rock climbing. I must add that I ate a massive plate of bangers ‘n’ mash before caving that was supremely delicious and reminded me of the monstrous meals I’d eaten to fuel back up at the end of a day in my walk across England. Back to the story, Simon had done a similar tour a few weeks back and had mentioned that caving is part of the overall experience. This had my heart going a bit; it was only recently that I’d watched 127 hours and the images were still fresh in my mind. Our tour began with a 27m rappel down a crevice literally in the middle of nowhere followed by a trek into the blackness lit only by our headlamps. We’d only been walking for a minute or so when the guide said that in order to prove ourselves ready for the rest of the journey we’d need to experience some proper caving. He sent the six of us in the tour group off down a separate corridor promising that he’d be waiting for us in a while once we’d found our way. Our corridor led upwards for a while, over sharp rocks that were barely suitable for climbing before descending sharply, leaving us facing a small hole with only one way to go, inside. It was a tight enough squeeze for me to feel quite uncomfortable but being in the middle of the group certainly helped. I was thinking to myself the whole time how nice it was to have lost so much weight. At the end of the squeeze we came to a wider room with two exits this time, though both of them were noticeably smaller than the one we’d just come through. Our guide was on the other side telling us that we needed to go on our chests with our arms straight ahead of ourselves, slithering like snakes. As much as I would’ve felt better crawling I was inclined not to argue with a professional and I found that when I eventually came to the end, it was so tight I wouldn’t have been able to fit my arms at my sides. In order to remove myself, I was told that I had to somehow roll myself onto my back and grip my hands to the rocks on the roof and pull myself free. Even though it probably took only 30 seconds to manoeuvre from my chest to my back, it felt like hours in my mind. Putting myself in a situation as claustrophobic as that is something I never want to do again. I am glad that I did it and overcame my fear but I most certainly wasn’t surprised when afterwards the guide explained that at least once a week someone loses their cool and just starts screaming like a baby. After that harrowing experience we were treated to a lightshow by the glow-worms that attach to the cave ceiling and illuminate it like constellations. The guide then asked that we turn off our headlamps to fully appreciate their luminescence. We sat in the dark for a while when suddenly their came a thunderous crack from somewhere nearby. The guide had slapped an inner tube against the water and the loud noise had caused our heart to beat faster and our pupils to dilate, making our eyes better suited to take in the light from the glow-worms. If we weren’t frightened enough by that, the guide proceeded to explain how 3m long eels swim around in the water we’d been wading through. Everyone moved a bit more cautiously after that tidbit of information. We were then allowed to float down the underground stream in our tubes which was relaxing for a few moments before we hit small rapids and waterfalls that had jagged rocks poking our behinds when the water became too shallow. We came to a point where the walls narrowed slightly and the guide stood up and asked the tour group if anyone could guess where we were heading next. After a few incorrect responses he pointed to a small hole in the rock wall, barely visible above the water level. Apparently we were expected to stick our legs through the hole, hold our breath and be shoved underneath rock and water such that we would emerge a few feet later on the other side of the wall. This was worse than the tight squeeze because at least in there I could breathe. It took all my strength not to panic under there and hit my head on the wall while passing through but somehow I emerged on the other side with nothing but lots of water up my nose. We were given hot lemon drinks and dairy milk chocolate for a reward before wading against the stream we’d just tubed down to make it back to where we’d dropped in. The last step was climbing back up the 27m we’d rappelled down in the first place. I found myself at the front of the line and went first while everyone watched my technique and choice of path from below. Hopefully they didn’t see me struggle and lose my footing near the top, or see the cuts I received all over my hands at the very end. I bet I made this tour sound absolutely horrible but it really wasn’t. For what I paid I certainly got my money’s worth which was an inexperience I’ll never forget. That evening we were the only guests at a hostel run by the tour company so we had an entire farmhouse to ourselves and after that ordeal the prawn stir fry and cheap wine was one of best dinners I’d ever had.