Read Ebook {PDF EPUB} The Darkness Beckons The History and Development of by The Darkness Beckons - The history and development of world cave diving. Publishers summary; Martyn Farr's The Darkness Beckons charts the history and development of cave diving, from early underwater expeditions in France in the late nineteenth century, through to cutting-edge dives across the globe, where iron-willed individuals are pushing the limits of equipment and techniques in the pursuit of exploration. Cave diving is the natural evolution of , where cavers and open-water divers overcome the challenges of water-filled passages by using specialist apparatus to explore further and deeper than ever before. The challenges are many - distance, depth, , visibility, rockfall and simple restriction in passage size - together with the physical and mental demands placed on an individual in an environment where, despite meticulous preparation, equipment can malfunction and one cannot expect to be rescued if something goes wrong. Early cave dives were made using Standard Equipment diving suits, before '' equipment was adopted by British and Italian divers in the 1940s. Around the same time, Jacques-Yves Cousteau and Emile Gagnan designed the compressed-air aqualung, the first scuba equipment. The development of breathing apparatus has continued, alongside to evermore challenging projects, especially those at extreme depth. British cave divers, including the author, have been at the forefront of many developments, such as the explorations at Wookey Hole in the Mendips, Keld Head in the Yorkshire Dales and Pozo Azul in Spain. Cave diving today is a truly international endeavour, and Farr gives detailed and engaging accounts of developments in Europe, the Americas, Australia and New Zealand, Southern Africa and more. Farr introduces cave diving's pioneers and chronicles their achievements. Among a cast of many are the Britons Graham Balcombe and Mike Boon; the American , who died while attempting to establish a new depth record in the Zacaton sinkhole in Mexico; and the outstanding German cave diver and equipment innovator . The stories of their adventures are charged with courage, danger and excitement, and some have led to tragedy. First published in 1980, this 2017 edition of The Darkness Beckons has been fully revised and updated to reflect the latest developments. Featuring over 400 breathtaking photographs and illustrations, and with a foreword by renowned American cave diver and explorer Bill Stone, it is an inspirational read for anyone with an interest in exploration and adventure. The Darkness Beckons: The History and Development of Cave Diving by Martyn Farr. To choose just one is impossible, as I am still involved in such diving today. Only the other day, on the first of September, I revisited a cave that no one had been to since my last (solo) trip there in 1978. This is a grueling, extremely flood-prone system with huge potential. I had an epic in there - - although broken lines and nil visibility are now things for which I am fairly well prepared. Well, we got to the end of the cave and got some distance further. If you were to ask me what historical landmarks spring quickly to mind then perhaps I would have to mention the depth records in Wookey Hole in 1977 and 1982, the traverse of Llangattock Mountain in 1986 (which is still the longest and deepest caving through trip in the British Isles) and 2001-2002, with its cave dives in Australia, Brazil, Italy, and Ireland. • In your opinion, what does it take to become a great cave diver/explorer? That's an easy one: dedication and determination, and perhaps a fair amount of physical stamina. From the age of 10 all I ever wanted to be was an explorer. If one can hold the focus, the health and fitness will follow. Experience and all the contacts are equally essential in this day and age. I have dived in many European countries, Turkey, Iran, China, Japan, Malaysia, Australia, Brazil, Mexico, Bahamas and, of course, Florida. • How (or what led you to) make your living through cave diving. What makes your teaching style different from a typical U.S. cave diving course? From the very beginning I always wanted to be an explorer, but everyone always said that caving and cave diving would never be able to sustain a person financially. So I chose to teach, at first in schools (which presented generous holidays!) and later in a specialist outdoor education center. I feel at one (at peace) in the outdoors, but throughout my career working in education, I always aspired to being a professional caver and cave diver. So, starting in 1975, I started taking photographs (I purchased my first in California in 1975) and writing books. Then, in 1997, I set up my cave diving training business, named Farrworld (www.Farrworld.co.uk). As you can imagine, environmental conditions for divers in Britain are quite different than to that of Florida. I think it is true to say that if divers can achieve competence in the cold, murky waters and frequently restricted sites so typical of the UK, then they are fit to dive just about anywhere else in the world with safety and confidence. What makes my courses so different from others is that I instruct overhead environment diving from a generic basis. First and foremost, I am training for the British and European environment, but I believe that all divers must be given the global perspective. They need to know how things differ in other regions, as British divers travel extensively. They will understand that 25 degree (77 F) warm water is bliss, but they need to respect different environments every bit as much as the adverse cave diving in UK, because there are other, less obvious, factors involved. In Mexico, for example, one can dive for kilometres in a shallow, clear water tunnel, but the complexity of the tunnel and potential for silting can be considerable. It all comes back to personal attitude and a healthy respect for the environment. • I have read most of your books. They have a vast amount of historical information about not only diving in England and the rest of the world, but on the history of the land as well. What led you to decide to begin writing cave diving books and what were the main obstacles in publishing? I decided to write the book subsequently entitled The Darkness Beckons in 1974 purely because of the incredible feats and the amazing adventures that had taken place. At that point in time I was training to become a teacher, but the primary intention was to tell a good story. Implicit in the subject matter is the whole psychology of the sport and pointers to good practice. The manuscript was rejected by a couple of publishers as being too specialized, but eventually the book found its niche with Diadem Books (today Baton Wicks) and the first edition appeared in print in 1980. The second edition appeared in 1991 and was soon acclaimed worldwide as the definitive book on the subject matter. At present I am preparing something more along the lines of a cave diving manual, a basic global introduction to the subject. This outlines the variety of approaches that might be adopted, depending, of course, upon the environment being dived. So between the training, photography, writing, lectures and exploration there's never a dull moment! The Darkness Beckons – The Future Of Cave Diving. The water in the Ressel is often gin clear. There is very little silt and given its proximity to the road it’s an ideal training site. In this exclusive excerpt from The Darkness Beckons, author Martyn Farr considers what the future might hold for cave diving. Since The Darkness Beckons last appeared in 2000 there have been tremendous advances in the world of caving and diving. But the challenge presented to explorers today is no less than that confronting the early pioneers. To progress in this dark and potentially dangerous world contemporary activists will need to build upon the lessons of the past and, in doing so, become fully versed in every scientific, technological and human advance relevant to the project. Ordinskaya is a very special cave; at times it appears as though it has been sculpted in ice and snow. The water clarity here is unparalleled. All facets of diving are steadily progressing. Equipment is constantly being developed and improved, as is training and supportive expertise. The advantages and disadvantages of the various breathing gases are better understood, and explorers are far better equipped to tackle their projects, which is reflected in the distances and depths that have been attained. With advances in caving technique, both long and deep dives are now being made at the end of some of the world’s most challenging and logistically difficult caves. Lightweight equipment has proved essential for such ventures, including the use of high-, aluminium-fibreglass composite cylinders and easily portable . The sport has broadened its appeal greatly. Open-water divers are increasingly being drawn towards the challenges of cave and mine diving. This broader interest has led to greater commercialisation of equipment. Gear that was hitherto difficult and expensive to assemble is now often mass- produced. Thus the previously small world of cave diving has been broadened and strengthened. Information and advice is today disseminated by email and internet, and cheaper travel has also played its part. The spectacular tunnel at Cocklebiddy dive base. The results? New cave systems will be explored, each with sumps to dive. Many of these will be far easier to vanquish than those that offered years of resistance in well-known caves. Fabulous new caving areas have been discovered in countries such as Vietnam and China. In 1984 and 1985 I was fortunate to have the opportunity to make the first dive in the impressive Clearwater Cave in Sarawak, Malaysia, and also at sites in southern China. (The Clearwater system is now one of the longest caves in the world with over 207 kilometres of dry passage known in 2014.) The most exciting advances in the development of cave diving may be in longer and deeper dives. In Britain, in 1970, the longest dives were about 300 metres. By the end of the 1980s they were over 1,000 metres. In areas such as Florida, rebreathers, ‘staging’ and the use of DPVs have today taken a number of penetrations beyond 5,000 metres. Depth, with its many associated limitations and dangers, is no longer the overruling deterrent that it once was. Jochen Hasenmayer and Sheck Exley pioneered the way in the 1980s, and today greater technical expertise, an endless array of computers and professional instruction is readily available. Lengthy stops may constitute a high price to pay for a long, deep exploration, but, with careful forethought and planning, even the discomfort of this irksome experience can be lessened. Many divers have adopted electrical heating systems, and the use of habitats is now fairly common on projects. The spectacular tunnel at Cocklebiddy dive base. At this point it is worth considering some of the deep ocean-diving approaches and equipment that might be employed to counteract the growing decompression problem. One possible tactic could be the adoption of a ‘one-atmosphere’ diving system. Here is encased in a bulky crush-proof suit, with elaborate pressure joints to allow articulation while maintaining an internal pressure of one atmosphere throughout the dive. Several of these ‘tin-man’ suits have been used for operations to depths of 700 metres. It is difficult to envisage these suits being adopted for cave exploration in the near future, but research is continuing. Another possibility is the use of a miniature submarine. As a man well ahead of his time, Jochen Hasenmayer set a mark in the sand when he extended the Blautopf in Germany in just such a craft – Speleonaut – in 1990. We should not discount the possibilities. In the future it is entirely foreseeable that a miniaturised submarine could be able to ‘echo-locate’ and map its route on the inward journey to allow for an exit along precisely the same path. Such ideas may seem futuristic, but as Dr Bill Stone has shown at Zacatón, and at Peacock Springs in 2016, this technology already exists, is advancing rapidly, and its application to cave diving is inevitable. This, in turn, will prompt another question: would greater reliance on sophisticated equipment mean a departure from the spirit of the sport? Even if it does, it is well to remember that sites such as Fontaine-de-Vaucluse and are few; the majority of explorations, while still highly dependent upon technological advance, will be conducted using conventional equipment. Geoff Yeadon looks up the passage leading to the China Shop, having just climbed a 15-metre pitch up from the main Boreham stream way. A flowstone cascade has left a dammed pool at the head of the passage, and its tranquility has enabled the long straws of the China Shop to develop without disturbance. No matter what equipment is utilised, project costs will inevitably escalate. The benefits of group organisation, with the sharing and maintenance of expensive apparatus, may well become a factor in the planning of expensive expeditions. To the individual diver focused on depth the expense will be significant. The price of helium, for example, increased by over 51 per cent between 2000 and 2011. It is clear that deep open-circuit operations using this gas will become even more expensive in the future and the use of rebreathers will be advantageous. As ever, the pioneers will be few in number, and to mount some of their undertakings it is inevitable that financial support and sponsorship will be required. This will be accompanied by demands from publicity agents and the media. As a result, extra pressure may be placed on divers as they try to honour their commitments. It will be essential to take steps to manage these extra factors, and this may involve, for example, resisting pressure to dive at times when conditions or the diver’s psychological state are unfavourable. The spacious Sump 1 of the Trou Madame in the Lot region of southern France. Close on the heels of the pioneers, there will be many others keen to emulate and enjoy for themselves the wonders of such a unique and remote environment. This tendency is already apparent. Sump 1 in the Émergence du Ressel in France has already become a ‘badge of achievement’ in the community. International cooperation and exchange of ideas have also aided the development of the sport. The British have a long track record of expertise in restricted environments and low visibility; the Americans, French and Swiss were long the masters of lengthy and deep penetrations. Since 2000 these broad distinctions have been blurred as exchange of information has become ever more rapid. Despite this progress the inherent dangers of activity underground remain unchanged. Completely autonomous deep-diving penetrations are edging towards the limits of human endeavour and there is little doubt that the risks involved leave the diver extremely vulnerable. It seems that even with modern technology and knowledge that many early pioneering dives could not be repeated, even by the pioneers themselves, with any degree of safety assured. But training and safety education are growing. No one would dispute the benefit of in the past thirty years. The days of ignorance and horrific statistics are now in the past. However, there is no room for complacency. Serving to bring this home was the 2012 tragedy in a sea cave at Palinuro, near Naples in Italy. A large group of divers was being led into Grotta degli Occhi (Cave of the Eyes). Somehow the party split and a number of the tour group swam into a muddy side tunnel. In the ensuing silt-out four of them drowned – less than 40 metres from the entrance and at a depth less than 14 metres. Whatever type of projects you may be contemplating, my plea is a simple one: consider carefully your motives, aims and objectives, and pursue them with circumspection and humility, ever mindful that this is a potentially lethal activity. Cave diving will always be an objectively dangerous sport, but providing it is approached in a mature, responsible manner, it will remain one of the most exciting pioneering sports of our times, with immense potential for development. Future prospects can be equally as exciting as those of the past. New exploration may be hard won, but there will always be determined individuals prepared to accept the challenge. Darkness Beckons: NTW (Teach Yourself) This second edition on cave diving brings the story up-to-date with accounts of the developments that have taken place since its original publication in 1980. Apart from activity in traditional areas much of the new exploration has taken place in clear water caves in Florida, the West Indies, Mexico, South Africa and Australia, areas of interest to open water divers as well as cavers. "synopsis" may belong to another edition of this title. Martyn Farr is an internationally renowned caver and cave diver and is responsible for the discovery of many miles of subterranean wilderness. He has been caving from the age of ten, discovering new caves from the age of sixteen, and his life has been dominated by elemental passion for exploration. Martyn began cave diving in 1971 and by 1981 had established a world record for under-sea cave penetration in the Bahamas. In the UK he is known for his explorations in Wookey Hole, in 1977 and 1982, and the first subterranean traverse of Llangattock Mountain in Wales in 1986. He has made many expeditions worldwide, to Iran, Mexico, Borneo, China, Dominican Republic, Japan, France, Spain, the Canary Islands, the Balearics, Greece, Turkey, Brazil, Russia, Australia and, most recently, New Zealand. Age has not diminished his enthusiasm or powers of endurance. In November 2012 he explored over one mile of new cave in South Island, New Zealand, and in 2013 and 2014 he made further solo discoveries of similar magnitudes in the same area. Original and exciting explorations are ongoing in Wales and Ireland. Martyn has worked as a cave for many years and remains as passionate as ever. His photographic work has appeared in many magazines and newspapers, including The Sunday Times, The Guardian and Daily Mail, and he has written eight books on this esoteric subject. He has helped produce any number of films and programmes for television and radio and taken countless celebrities underground, including princes William and Harry. He lives in Crickhowell, South Wales. Dead Man’s Handshake. Martyn Farr's The Darkness Beckons charts the history and development of cave diving, from early underwater expeditions in France in the late nineteenth century, through to cutting-edge modern dives across the globe. In this extract from the book, Farr tells the gripping story of the linking up of Kingsdale Master Cave and Keld Head in North Yorkshire between 1976 and 1978. Further dives up the Kingsdale passage were clearly serious undertakings. The last air-bell to be found lay at 259 metres from the entrance, and so was of virtually no use for a push at the end. The logical answer was to search for a connection from the downstream sump in Kingsdale Master Cave, and activities began here in June 1976. For such dives deep underground were more appropriate than drysuits, for they could be carried virtually anywhere without too much trouble or risk of damage. On the second dive Yeadon reached an air-bell after 305 metres of very mixed passage. His third dive, on 1 July, was more eventful. Having laid an extra 90 metres of line downstream, he commenced his exit. With 90 metres to go to reach base the valve suddenly flooded: "Having just breathed out, I quickly reached for the purge button but found none. All that was left was the rubber mouthpiece, the main body having dropped off. With lungs now demanding air with increasingly more urgent twitches I started to feel for my second valve, as the visibility was now too poor to see it. The first attempt followed up the wrong hose to the contents gauge. The second was successful, with a rush of air to put out burning lungs." A minute was spent resting on the floor before moving on. On Yeadon’s fourth dive on 10 July he reached 488 metres. On 24 July he reached 600 metres and another air-bell, while on 27 July he passed some tight squeezes to dump his reel at 630 metres. The gap between the two caves was narrowing and he was becoming obsessed by the exploration: "Throughout these few weeks my flatmates in Harrogate had to suffer a vast survey wandering across the living-room floor. Seeing the limb of the Kingsdale Master Cave creeping towards the limit of our Keld Head explorations was intoxicating." On 5 August 1976 Oliver Statham claimed the British length record when he reached a point 838 metres into Keld Head. Previous dives here had reached the safe limit for air carried (two 40-cubic-foot cylinders and one of 80) and on this occasion an improvised ‘hypersystem’ was used, consisting of two side-mounted 50-cubic-foot cylinders and a twin 50-cubic-foot back-mounted set. ‘Herbert’ (the nickname given to Statham’s drysuit) was really to prove its worth on this occasion. Initially the diver was grossly overweight, carrying 73 kilograms of equipment, but, on inflating the suit, equilibrium could be achieved. Having made a rough survey over these dives, they were now only about 275 metres from the furthest point reached in Kingsdale Master Cave. Progress was slow and it was not until February 1977 that another push was made. This time it was Yeadon’s turn and, in appalling visibility, he progressed to 925 metres. The European distance record was close, but the chances of a link-up seemed to be receding and Yeadon had become doubtful: "After my dive in February our hopes faded, for although the gap was closing on my survey, the depth in Keld Head had now increased to 60 feet and the two caves were getting further apart vertically. The extra depth also meant that we now had to devise ways of carrying more air." JOCHEN HASENMAYER AT KELD HEAD. News of Keld Head and the two Yorkshire divers spread abroad. In January 1978, with events drawing to a climax, Statham invited the experienced German cave diver Jochen Hasenmayer to join the exploration. His ability was immediately apparent for, on his first familiarisation dive, he swam to the end of the line. A few days later, on 5 February, a major push was planned with all three pioneers participating. It was to be an exciting day. The water was cold and visibility typically atrocious. Hasenmayer had 270 cubic feet of air (more than Yeadon and Statham) and was to lead, since it had been decided they would dive independently at half-hour intervals. With his usual twinset back-mounted, the German reached the end of the line. The upstream continuation was horribly tight and Hasenmayer was convinced that something had been missed. Reeling in a few metres of line, he started to search for another route. Hasenmayer: "About 15 metres downstream from Geoff ’s end point I found the main continuation went through a low bedding with the only way forward, illogically, on the left where a long slit was passable through a widening of a roof channel. On the washed-out rock floor it was not possible to fix the rope in the correct way. But as this was clean rock without mud I felt sure that the others would see the problem immediately and observe the fundamental rule ‘don’t pull back the line of a diver who is in the sump’. Beyond the constriction, I continued along a spacious tunnel to 1,006 metres – at that time a European record dive in a single sump." By this time Statham, also wearing a backpack, had reached the constriction and quickly recognised the problem. Visibility was poor and due to a lack of belay points, he realised that if he continued he would jeopardise the lives of both himself and Hasenmayer. Mindful also of his depleted air supply, he prudently made his exit, meeting Yeadon within a hundred metres or so and writing the now-immortal communication on his friend’s slate: 3,000, small with back and side, No Jochen, Trouble? Yeadon replied that he would go and look. He later described the ensuing events: "At the constriction, which was a peculiar little slot … the line was pulled tight into the corner, because it went in and around a rock wall and then back at an angle … I thought, ‘Christ, I’ll just sit here and go down to my third margin and then I’ll have to leave you’." Like Statham before him, Yeadon knew that it was unwise, indeed dangerous, for him to try and follow Hasenmayer. But by remaining at the constriction he might be able to assist the German as he made his outward journey. In the following minutes a drama was to unfold that could have proved disastrous. "Somehow Hasenmayer’s line had been displaced from its original position on the cleanwashed cave floor, and he was inadvertently drawn off route into an exceedingly low area, impossible to pass. Such an occurrence is every cave diver’s nightmare" Somehow Hasenmayer’s line had been displaced from its original position on the cleanwashed cave floor. When this happened is immaterial. The upshot was that on his return Hasenmayer was inadvertently drawn off route into an exceedingly low area, impossible to pass. Such an occurrence is every cave diver’s nightmare. Hasenmayer described the situation: "When I came back the rope was tightened, so that it was pulled out of the position of the through route. It ran partly through a sand bar and partly on the left side of the main constriction and there disappeared under this impassable part of the low bedding. As the visibility had now deteriorated to 1.5 metres and as I still had enough air, I decided to search systematically. I began at the extreme corner of the left-hand wall, the rope tracking with me in my right hand. Just when this was cleared I was pulled back so violently, that I could not stop until I was drawn under the shoulder of the roof where I could wedge against it. Naturally, I couldn’t let go of the rope, the visibility was zero and the rope was pulling into the sand bar. In spite of all signals a tug-of war began. I had to resist with all my . One lamp was torn from my helmet and my right arm became longer and longer. Why was he doing this?" For his part Yeadon was very concerned Hasenmayer was getting low on air. He had not dived with Hasenmayer before and needed to get Hasenmayer’s attention in order to try and help. He could not communicate with normal hand signals due to lack of visibility and his only option seemed to be by tugs on the line. His attempts to establish some form of communication might accidentally have made matters worse, but he was becoming very concerned about the German’s air reserves. Hasenmayer: "Suddenly Yeadon rested, and I took the risk of giving up my stable position and squeezed as deep as possible into the constriction and tried to reach his hand along the rope. I succeeded, took hold of it in a very calm way, and patted it. He understood my calming touches and signals and at last freed the line which was anchoring me in this impassable slit, pulling and squeezing me into the constriction." In the poor visibility the situation in which they found themselves was extremely confusing. Both divers were doing their best to try and solve the predicament. Hasenmayer again: "With the line slackened I could pull it back, out of the sand bar, and retreat. I knew the right direction in principle, but Yeadon had taught it to me in an unforgettable way. Now, together, each on his side, we threaded the line out of the slit back to the proven route. Eventually, when the line was in the correct ‘way-out’ position, the passage was again without problem." Yeadon had felt certain that the German was facing an imminent crisis as he cast around looking for a way out. Hasenmayer had been delayed on the far side of the constriction for at least ten minutes, maybe longer, but when he emerged he was completely calm and in full control of the situation. He still had ample air and needed no assistance (indeed Hasenmayer also transported their big reel on the journey out). After a steady swim back down the line Hasenmayer and Yeadon made their exit after two and three-quarter hours and two hours respectively. As Yeadon surfaced behind Hasenmayer he told Statham, ‘I thought I was shaking a dead man’s hand in there’. Today, the story ‘Dead Man’s Handshake’ is firmly enshrined in caving folklore. Hasenmayer’s experience, skill and determination enabled him to maintain complete composure in a very stressful situation. If there is a lesson to be gained it must surely be that divers unfamiliar with one another’s techniques and capabilities, especially when there are language difficulties, should be extremely wary when operating together. It was inevitable that the constricted section at 914 metres would get dubbed Dead Man’s Handshake and there could not be much doubt that it constituted a real deterrent to progress. Ever resourceful, Yeadon constructed an amazing side-mounted harness to hold four cylinders (two of 80 and two of 50 cubic feet). Despite an acutely painful arched back, owing to all the being supported around the waist, Yeadon reached Dead Man’s Handshake without too much trouble on 16 April 1978. The line was secured to a block of lead and in minutes the route through was proven reasonable. Continuing to Hasenmayer’s limit (1,006 metres), another 30 metres of line were reeled out. The way on was still wide open, but the depth continued at about 18 metres. Meanwhile, Keld Head was not only being extended up the Kingsdale passage but also elsewhere. A major find took place on the corner at 335 metres, where Yeadon had discovered a large submerged inlet in February 1978. Over the course of a few more dives this was extended to 823 metres and is presumed to be the ‘true’ Marble Steps passage.