Rochester Scuba & Snorkel Club

Into the Darkness

Diving the Sink in Cherry Grove Cave

story by John Preston, photos by John Ackerman

As some of you may know, I’ve been looking for caves in the Spring Valley area that can be explored and dived. Doing some internet research I came across www.karstpreserve.com, a website that featured local caves and person named John Ackerman.

John A owns land that has access to some caverns that I thought may hold areas to cave dive. After relaying messages back and forth with John he agreed to let me "push" one of the sumps. To "push" a sump means to dive it and see if it goes to a new area. A sump is basically a small area of water in the cave much like a small pond, and I mean a decorative pond like someone would have in town.

The Entrance.

I decided to see who could assist in making the push. Unfortunately the Our World-Underwater show was going on and most everyone was out of town except Joe Velie. So Joe would be my buddy on this adventure -- and what an adventure it was.

What really made this sound like an "easy" cave dive was that I was told it had easy access and was close to the sump, so hauling gear shouldn’t be a problem. And that most of the cave was relatively dry. Always remember… one’s idea of "easy" can be defined by what one might consider "difficult", and such was the case in this adventure.

Joe met up at my house here in Spring Valley on Saturday, January 15th around 10am, and it wasn’t 25 minutes later that John A called and said to meet us at the local Kwik Trip. Sure enough we got there and he was waiting on us. We made very short introductions and he said to follow him, so off we went. We traveled down 63 south just short of the state line and then we turned east toward Cherry Grove; from there it was only about 5 miles to the site. When we arrived at the site it was located in a farm field just off the road about 100 feet. We pulled in next to the entrance along with another person that was waiting for us.

The entrance was a hole drilled out from a sinkhole about 30" in diameter and has a pipe sticking about 2 feet out of the ground with a lockable cover on it. John A has done this at numerous locations on the property; at last count I believe there were 19 such holes done, giving him and his fellow dry cavers access to over 2 miles of underground playground.

John and Joe in The Big Tunnel.

John A and David G and another caver all jumped into my truck and we discussed the plan, what we would encounter, etc. Well the first encounter was the entrance. The entrance down the drilled-out hole was 80' deep, and if that wasn’t enough adventure: you had to climb down a wire ladder -- just a hair over 6" wide, the wire cable about 3/16" diameter, the rungs about 1/2" thick -- while it swung around inside the pipe. The trick was to put your back against the muddy wall while going down to rest and place your foot down to the next rung. Quite honestly Joe and I were wondering if this contraption would actually hold our weight. I started thinking at one point how it would feel to drop 80 feet into the cave. Quicker than going down the ladder but most likely more painful.

I will back up a moment and tell you what gear we had with us to take into the cave. We had my DUI drysuit with insulated underwear, hood, 40cf tank, reg, mask, Halcyon dive light, reel, wet gloves, and 10lb of hard weight with strap for waist mounting. Joe wore coveralls and boots and used a C4 for a light inside the cave.

So as we went over the plan, John A said that from the entrance it would take about 30 minutes to reach the sump… ah… 30 minutes? I thought it was close to the entrance! Considering the overall size of the cave I guess you could say it was close. But to carry a dive tank and gear and wearing a drysuit into the cave and walking 30 minutes was nearly unthinkable. But we were here and nothing was going to stop us now.

So I was the first one down the line; the wire ladder wasn’t so bad but I made considerable mental thought every time I made a step as I didn’t want to hold the record for the fastest entrance into the cave. Also I think Joe wanted to make sure that if it held me it would most likely hold him. Way to go Joe. About halfway down there was a very small opening of water coming out of the wall. It was literally peeing on you the rest of the way down. The best part was the second you got into the hole it was nearly 50 degrees. With the outside temperature of -3 when we arrived it was a welcome thought of warming up and being comfortable in the cave.

As I waited down at the bottom for the rest of the team to follow, I was looking at the small stream I was standing in and noticed how clear the water was. Hey, this would be just fine for a cave dive.

Well John A led with the rest of us in tow; the cave was very easy to walk in. I would say it was about 8-10 feet high and at least 6 feet wide -- not too bad. Well then we came to the side shoot that we would take to the sump. This was a different story.

"We're supposed to go through there?"

The side shoot took us back to what felt like a thousand feet. Some of it you walked in waist deep water while you were turned sideways and performing all kinds of gymnastic moves; with some of the body positions I was in, I could have tried out for the circus. Along the way I rammed my head into a rock point and could have sworn I could see blood coming out of my head. Now you must remember I’m in a full drysuit carrying a 40cf bottle and Joe is carrying a small gear bag that weighed about the same. It doesn’t sound like much, but try this: Stand upright, put the tank in one hand and outstretch your arm halfway, turn your upper torso in the direction of the tank in your hand, walk on a 6 inch balance beam and take 8 inch steps for 200 feet. Can you tell us we’re having fun?

When we finally arrived at the sink I was so happy to stick my body into the water just to cool off; I was so hot it was fogging up inside the very small room we were in. The area was probably 20 feet high but the width was about 5-6 feet. I then asked Joe for his C4 dive light and took a quick look at the hole -- hey, it looked more than big enough to get into and it was crystal clear water… for about a minute.

Sad to say every time I took a step in the water it kicked up the muddy silt around the hole, and within a minute it was totally silted out. What I thought would be good news was that the water was coming out of the hole fairly well and I expected it to clear quickly… but not to happen.

Joe helped me get geared up and I thought I would take a quick look underneath to see if it was large enough. It did appear to be a good opening. I tried to go further but realized I still did not have enough weight, so we started putting rocks into my pockets; it still wasn’t enough but it did help.

So I was ready to go and gave everyone my plan for a total of 20 minutes. John A decided to take some additional photos before I went under. I tied off my line and went in feet first because of the buoyancy problem and hoped to push all the air out of my suit. Once under and with my feet feeling how large the cave was, I was moving to my right or left of the cave as everyone else would see (if they could have seen me). After about 10 feet I felt wall all around my right side, so I checked to my left and it was wide open -- the cave did a dogleg left and I was still going down. I could tell by my ears that I was still going deeper, though I could not see my gauges in front of me or my pressure gauge as I was turning up the silt no matter how slowly or carefully I moved. There was one time I turned my light toward me and it actually startled me for a second because I was getting used to the total darkness, and then to see a muddy glow I thought someone else came down with me.

Even with all the training, all the cave dives, etc. this was still making my heart race at first… of course that could have been the nightmare trek into the cave that about gave me and Joe a heart attack.

As I moved to the left and kept lifting my feet up to feel the ceiling to verify that it was still a large opening, I had nearly 10 inches above me and kept descending and moving on. By my estimate on the reel I was nearly 20-25 feet in, zero vis, depth of 10 feet and getting deeper. Time to make a judgment call.

John in the Sump.

Do I keep going in not knowing how much air I have? Is the cave going to continue to get deeper and I have no other means of buoyancy? What if I get a free flow? It would be a slow climb out of the cave throttling my tank valve in absolute darkness and reeling the line in.

I attempted to check my gauges one last time… my computer in my face I could not see, with the light on my pressure gauge and against my mask I still could not see the outline of the gauge. Do I want to go further in and hope to find an exit? See how deep it really is? Or to be able to say I went 50+ feet into this cave? Nope… it was time to end the dive.

As I told myself this was a pre-exploratory dive, to check the conditions and see what I was getting into. That I had done. This was a very successful dive in my book. I verified that it was divable cave.

The exit was smooth. I knew by feel for the most part I was nearing the exit. At about 1 foot I could vaguely see lights and knew I was at the opening. I was done and excited to tell them that it was a deeper sump that they expected. That was not good news for them as it means no access to other parts of the cave, but for a cave diver I couldn’t be happier.

I know the next time into this sump I will have my fins, backplate, and 2 40cf tanks. Going in head first will give me visibility in, but of course I will not have vis for the exit. But that will be fine.

Considering the size and depth of the cave I would imagine it goes for some way. It has a decent flow that would suggest a larger area further in. Only another dive will tell.

You would think that this would be the end of the story. It might be for the cave diving, but we still had to exit. The thought of going through the crack in the ground that we came from made me and Joe wish we had an opening above us. The exit out to the main part of the cave was as grueling as the way in, if not more so.

Once we got to the main part of the cave John A decided to take us further in. He showed us some of the sights in a long area of the main cave and pointed out another sump that appeared to go in at least 100 feet; the best part was that it is only half filled! That means non-cave divers could go in since there was a very large air space available.

Joe squeezes through.

John A told us that no one has gone in there… ok, then why didn’t we go into this since it appeared to hold promise of another area in the cave? Joe & I pondered that same question on the way out. If I wasn’t so beat up and exhausted from the trek I would have gone in there in a heartbeat. Maybe next time.

John A then took us back to the exit and Joe made his way up the wire ladder. Joe then started pulling up our gear on the rope they had in the shaft. I then made my way up and noticed that gravity and exhaustion were in full force as I made several pauses up the ladder to rest my arms.

As I reached out of the cave the below-zero air hit and my hair froze instantly though I was not cold at all. An older man & a younger girl were standing there looking at us like we were nuts. They walked over from the intersection where they went off the road in their mini-van and were asking for a tow out.

They must have been outside for at least 15-20 minutes by the time I reached the surface, and I asked them to jump into my truck to get warm… neither would get in. They really must have thought Joe and I were some kind of freaks when they saw us coming out of a pipe 80 feet in the ground covered in mud and looking like something out of a science fiction movie. Guess I can’t blame them.

We got them out of the predicament they were in and they smiled and thanked us. Joe & I talked about the new experience we had as we made our way to the Subway in Spring Valley for much-needed nourishment.

We learned what we need to do and what to bring on the next adventure into these caves. We both agreed that this memory will last a lifetime.

The best part was that John A said he looked forward to the next time we’re down to explore further into the cave… life is good.

I would like to give a very special thanks to Joe Velie. Joe loaned out some of his gear to make this easier for me to dive and helped carry some of the load. He also had to endure the same painful twisting, climbing, and knee & elbow bruising as I did. I couldn’t have done this without his help. Thanks Joe.

I know we both look forward in having some of the other team members in there to endure the same painful fate we had. I can say it was worth every bruise.

Until next time,
John Preston

Here are some more pictures of our adventure.

Wreck Diving in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada

story and photos by Roger Southwick

Part 2 of 3

We started Saturday morning a bit earlier than Friday, in the dark, with breakfastses at Husky's (same seats, same food) and a 2 1/2 hour drive to Terrace Bay at the northern-most point on Lake Superior. The scenery is fantastic and worth the drive -- cliffs, bays, trees, big moose running out in front of you, and dead bears alongside the road.

Launching from Terrace Bay. The waterfall and churning river behind the dock made for a challenging boat launch.

The boat launch at Terrace Bay was interesting. It's at the mouth of a river just down from a pretty good-sized waterfall. I'm not sure how small fishing boats deal with the current, because it was a little tricky even for Rich's capable boat. We had spotters on both sides of the bow looking out for the shallow rocks as Rich tried to steer us through the churning water and 3-foot waves, past the sandbars and out into the lake. We had planned to leave our drysuits open to avoid sweating today, but spray from the waves convinced us to zip up.

Our goal today was a wreck way far east. After 20 minutes of dealing with the wind and waves (early in the morning when it was "calm"), we changed course for the Rappahannock in Jack Fish Bay.

Jack Fish Bay is really cool -- there's a train track running around the entire perimeter. The train goes through a tunnel in the cliff face, over a trestle, and past switches and signal gear. When you're on a boat in the middle of the bay, it's like being in the center of a huge model railroad. Three noisy trains circled us while we searched for the Rappahannock, and eagles soared overhead. We didn't have its GPS coordinates so we relied on Wally's cryptic descriptions: "line up the culvert with the signal lights just across from the mouth of the tunnel". Sure, Wally.

We gave up on this nonsense and started a search pattern in the bay, looking for hits on the depth finder. The sinking occurred during a 75 mph gale when the steam-powered coal ship tried to beach itself in the bay. They got close enough to shore for the crew to escape, but the ship slid down to the bottom at 80 feet.

Searching for the Rappahannock.

We combed the entire bay for 45 minutes and didn't get a hit. This ship is 300 feet long and we missed it. Then we looked at our zig-zag path on the GPS unit. A little open triangle 300 feet long glared back at us. One pass through the middle and we got a blip on the depth finder. Yay for GPS! We looked around for Wally's landmarks and found that he was absolutely right.

We geared up and splashed into the root-beer colored water from the river feeding the bay. (What is it with all these rivers?) It tasted like rancid tea. We descended through the murk and it got dark pretty fast, but we eventually made it to clear water and our lights became useful again. I followed the anchor line to where it draped over the outside edge of the wreck. But something was weird -- there were short deck plankings sticking out from the hull. That didn't make sense until I checked where the anchor landed, and found that it was inside the hull. The deck was missing!

We got our bearings and followed the railing, eventually ending up at starboard side of the stern. This ship was a 300-foot coal carrier, but here on the stern were lathed columns and carved wooden doors, and a triple-expansion steam engine with wood-slat paneling on its sides. Pretty fancy for a cargo ship. We descended near the steeply-angled stern (like a pirate ship) and found the massive wooden rudder buried in silt up to the carved VIII draft marking -- 8 feet.

We ascended on the port side and followed the railings forward. There was a drinking fountain in the port walkway. Some of the fancy doors were missing their doorknobs, with rectangular holes in their place. Wally told us later that early divers had sawn out the brass fittings and even removed some of the hinges.

Pile of dive gear, plus Joseph.

You could easily spend 2 or 3 dives exploring the exposed engine room, but we pressed forward along the port rail. There was coal scattered everywhere, even inside the walls of the hull. Still no sign of any decking. We arrived at a 90-degree angle in the hull which turned out to be the vertical clipper bow. Running short on no-deco time, we high-tailed it back along the starboard rail to the anchor line. Then it was back up through the darkening brown water and onto the boat for lunch. The wind had picked up so we bagged the idea of a second dive and took a rough ride back to the scary boat landing at Terrace Bay.

Even without doing a second dive we got back to Wally's dive shop after they had closed, but he was waiting for us. We asked him about the missing decks and scattered coal. He solved the mystery: after the sinking, a salvage company brought a large clamshell crane on a barge to smash through the decks and scoop out all the coal from the cargo bays.

We bought some T-shirts from Wally and paid our pittance for air fills, thanked him profusely, and headed to Boston Pizza. What kind of pizza did we get? Of course: MEAT! It was awesome. But they didn't have the dessert that we wanted, so Rich (who had just finished a big vat of wine) politely complained to the manager. We also complained that the dessert plates were far too fancy for a pizza joint. Then we found out that the "manager" was actually an impostor! So we wrote that up on their comment forms. The staff were all good-natured and friendly, and smiled heartily when Rich called into the kitchen "we're going now!"

Sunday morning brought us yet more breakfastses at Husky's where we learned about Canadian geography from their place mats. Canada is big! And empty. And windy. We fueled up the boat and the trucks and headed northeast 50 miles to Rockport Marina. It really stinks here, with a paper mill or something just upwind from the docks. Did I mention it was windy? That's not a good sign on Lake Superior so early in the morning. But we loaded the boat anyhow.

Tune in next month for the exciting conclusion!