I did not write this story, nor do I have explicit permission of the author, Thomas Lera, to post it here. However, I feel that with the lack of information available regarding the true nature of the infamous "Ted the Caver" story, it is good to spread the truth about Lera's story.

In reality, "Ted" is actually "Fred," and his story is a short story written by Thomas Lera in 1987. He chose 2001 as a date because it was not too distant in the future where technology or society might have changed significantly, but would also be far enough along to separate the story from reality. The "Ted the Caver" folks blatantly ripped off Lera's work and portrayed it as a true story, even going so far as to take eerily accurate pictures to further the story. "Ted" never went caving, and his story isn't true. Read the story below, and you'll see what I'm talking about.

People, perhaps, still exist who believe it is of no importance to explore the unknown. This, of course, shows ignorance. The history of the human race has been a continual struggle from darkness towards light. It serves no purpose to discuss the use of this knowledge; man wants to know, and when he ceases to do so, he is no longer man.

THE TERROR IN HUPMAN'S CAVE

by Thomas Lera

I am finally able to tell about my discoveries and bizarre experiences in a cave not far from my home in Arizona. If you think the following events sound far-fetched, I agree. I would come to the same conclusion had I not experienced them. I have included the entire relevant text of my journal. For the sake of clarity, my comments, as I reflect on the experience, are italicized. I have done my best to convey the thoughts and feelings I had during the entire event. My journal notes begin in December 2001 and ends... well, actually it is still being written.

Some Background Information

Hupman's Cave was discovered several decades ago when road construction in the area unearthed its entrance. From that time to the present, locals as well as avid cavers in the region have visited it. Beer cans can be found intermittently in the cave, mostly in the upper half. When the cave was first entered it must have been beautiful; but surface dust, graffiti, vandalism, pigeon droppings and regular use have diminished its appeal. There are still places however, where small formations remain undisturbed, as a reminder of what the rest of the cave used to look like.

To enter the cave, one must anchor a good length of rope to a nearby tree, toss it down to a small ledge 15 feet below, from which they can then rappel the short distance to the cave mouth. After a short climb over large rocks you come to a pit. The end of the same rope is used to reach the bottom of the pit. The drop is only 50 feet or so, but it is not free hanging so you can't slide straight down the rope, which is preferable. The pit varies in diameter from about 10 feet, to only 3 or 4 in a few places. You have to snake your way carefully around sharp rocks as you descend, which also makes the ascent just as difficult. The walls are lined with sharp, white rocks called popcorn. The popcorn makes it painful to brush against the sides of the pit. The temperature in the cave is around 54 degrees year-round, which means it feels cool in the summer and warm in the winter.

There is a small 6' x 6' room at the bottom of the pit that gives you a spot to leave your harness and descending/ascending gear, since there are no more steep drops and the equipment will only get in the way. To negotiate the next low ceiling 10-foot long passage, you must drop to your knees. This is where the kneepads come in handy, since the floor is covered with soft dirt, intermingled with bits of broken rock from above. The thin layer of dirt does nothing to soften the blow to the hands and knees as you work your way through the crawl space.

The entrance to the passage on the right is the largest of the four, with an arched opening of nearly 10 feet which is only a mere foot below the cave ceiling. As you enter the passage, the ceiling gradually lowers until it is about six feet high. This section of cave resembles a hard rock mine and it's easy to picture rusty mine cars on rail lines, and dust-covered miners with blistered hands gripping dull picks. The pseudo-mine comes to an end in about 40-feet and the caver is once again forced to drop onto hands and knees for a 20-foot crawl. The floor slopes gently downward for the first half of the crawl, then gets fairly steep and slippery. The crawl lasts a few feet beyond the bottom of the slide. Over the next 10-12 feet you slowly begin to regain your standing position.

After walking a few more feet and climbing down a short drop-off you arrive at a small level area with a passage which descends immediately to the left, and ends 75 feet later at one of the small bodies of water within the cave. To the right is a rock wall, and straight-ahead is a 3-foot indentation in the wall. On the back wall is a hole about the size of a softball. To get near this hole, you must duck under an overhang, kneel and crouch down close to the rocks that rise a few inches from the floor of the cave. By the time notice the cool breeze blowing from the hole. It was my recognition of this hole as a potential doorway to unexplored portions of cave that ultimately led to my adventure and my telling of the experience.

As has been tradition for all the years I've been caving, when reaching a certain point, usually the deepest part of the cave, all lights are extinguished. Complete blackness fills the void, and, for a moment, you strain your eyes with the expectation of catching a speck of light somewhere in the false night. After several futile moments, you may turn your head at a sound and notice your other senses have heightened. The sounds, smells and feelings that may have been overlooked to this point come into perfect detail now: the prickle of the rocks underneath; the smell of dust, sweat, bat guano; the sound of modern material shifting on age-old rock as you attempt to find comfort on the solid foundation. At the back of your mind is, "What if?" What if a person had to climb out of the cave with no light? Would he make it? Would he find all of the turns and bends that got him to this place? If not, would a rescue party find him in time?

The depth of darkness recognized at this time is something rarely experienced outside a cave. Many first-time cave explorers erroneously declare that they can see their hand if they hold it within 2 or 3 inches of their face. The truth is, the human eye is incapable of seeing in this total absence of light. If they did not hear something coming toward them, they would feel it before they saw it. Complete and total darkness!

December 30, 2001 - The Adventure Begins

Matt and I had decided to get one more caving trip in before the New Year, so we set our sights on Hupman's Cave. It was not a spectacular cave, nor an unexplored one to either of us, but since neither of us had been caving in awhile it would suffice. We got our gear loaded up and hit the road by 3:00 p.m. We got to the cave in great time, since Matt likes to drive fast. We anchored from the usual tree and began to rappel into the cave. I went down first and got my gear together while Matt came down. There was a bit of excitement to this trip, as there was a small passage in the lower portion of the cave that had lots of air blowing out of it. I had never been able to check to see what was inside the passage since it is way too small to climb through. This time I wanted to see if there was hope of enlarging it enough to allow us to pass into it.

I will refer to Matt many times. We have been caving together for many months now. He was injured in a caving accident a few years ago and was told he would never walk again. Through hard work and perseverance he now not only walks but also can get around very well in caves, although the trickier parts might slow him down a bit. As for the reference to the small opening in the cave, there is a saying among cavers: "If it blows, it goes". Meaning, if a passage has a good flow of air, it is probably worth investigating.

After we explored a couple of the usual passages, we climbed down to check out the hole. The hole is located deep in the cave near the lowest part, on a wall about three feet from the floor. To even look inside, I had to kneel down and duck under an overhang of rock.

I held my backup mini-mag light inside the hole and was excited by what I saw. The wall through which the hole passed was about 3-5 inches thick and led into a tight passage that opened up just a bit once inside the hole. As far as I could tell, it continued back about 10-12 feet into a small crawl space, after which it seemed to really open up, although how much I couldn't tell. This could be a virgin passage. (Obviously no one had passed through from this route, but there could be a way into the passage from the other side.) To even get to the crawl space we would have to enlarge the initial opening that was about the size of my fist. Once we were past the opening area we would have a very tight crawl to where it appeared to open up. It would take some work, but we thought we could do it. We sat down for a few minutes to rest and contemplate our plan of attack. While we sat there in the darkness we could hear the low, eerie sound of the wind howling from the other side of the passage. We could also hear a low rumble from time to time, which, since the cave is in the vicinity of a heavily traveled highway, we attributed to the resonating of truck noise through the rocks.

We determined our best plan of attack would be to use a cordless drill to make holes in the rock, and then, with a chisel and small sledgehammer, break up the rock. It seemed pretty straightforward. We would widen the hole big enough to squeeze in and see what was on the other side. The effort to haul this extra equipment down to the hole would be a pain, but we hoped it would be worth it. I named the passage Floyd's Tomb, after Floyd Collins, because it looked like the tight spot where he'd miserably spent his last days on earth.

Floyd Collins was a caver back in the early 1900's who got stuck in a tight crawl space and was unable to free himself. It is an amazing story detailed in a book called, "Trapped: The Story of Floyd Collins" (I think that is the title. I don't recall the author). Calling our passage Floyd's Tomb was not only a tribute to Floyd, but also a commentary of the size of the passage.

Ha Ha! In retrospect it is funny how simple I thought it was going to be. I figured a few hours work and we would be in. Had I known how long it was going to take, or what I was going to experience in the cave, I never would have begun the project.

We gathered up our gear and headed out of the cave, which previously I couldn't have cared less if I had ever entered it again. There is nothing special about it, but now I was psyched about getting through into this new, possibly virgin passage. We hadn't even left the cave and already we were planning our return trip.

January 27-28, 2002 - Three Weeks Later

Matt and I were both excited to get to work. I figured in about 4 hours we would be able to see what was on the other side on the entrance hole. We had borrowed a cordless drill, along with masonry bits, sledgehammers, chisels, and a few other tools we ended up not using. Getting the tools down to the work site proved to be a challenge. One of us would climb down the rope and stop at a ledge or good resting place, then the other person would lower the tools. We kept repeating this routine for more than an hour until we got to the bottom of the cave, and then had to drag the tools to the hole. Matt took the first turn at the hole. After an hour of exhausting work we could tell we were not going to get through in one session. We kept trading off positions and one would take a break, eat and drink while the other one worked.

We had to operate on our knees to avoid smacking our heads on the ceiling. Working in this awkward position we drilled into the wall around the hole, inserted the chisel, then hammered until some of the rock broke up. Then we would repeat the process. It was slow, difficult work. The typical size rock we chipped off each time was about only the size of a fingernail. If we broke off a larger piece, it was cause for celebration. From time to time, we would just wail on a chisel with a 5-lb. sledge, as best we could in the confined space, but this too was slow going.

Even though we spent many hours and several trips working on the hole, we never did find a better technique for widening it. The drill/chisel/hammer routine got the best results for our efforts. We came up with some crazy ideas for breaking up the rocks, everything from TNT (never seriously considered), to hauling a generator to the mouth of the cave with an extension cord down to a jackhammer, to using liquid nitrogen to freeze the rock and make it more brittle, although we never actually used any of these ideas.

After a couple hours of hard work, we realized what our limiting factor was going to be when our first battery met an abrupt death. We had brought in a second battery, so we swapped them out. Finally, after about three or more hours of drudgery, the second battery died and we called it a night. Whew! For the first time since we got in the cave we both sat back and took a break to check out the results of our hard work, although it wasn't much. It was at this time we noticed the howling. It was louder than the last time we were there, but we just figured the wind was blowing a little stronger outside. What we could not figure out was the rumbling deep within the passage. It, too, seemed not only louder but also more constant which was odd because at that time of night the car or truck traffic above would be almost non-existent. Matt said he would ask some more experienced cavers what could be causing the noise.

We didn't spend long admiring our work, since we still had to haul the gear up and out, which, although we actually left some of it in the cave, was still difficult work. What made it worse was we were both exhausted. Our original plan was to be done with this cave and return to hit a couple of others in the area the next day. Instead we decided to crash at a nearby motel, charge up the drill batteries, then return the next morning to Hupman's Cave.

My journal goes on at length about the night after we left the cave: We got a room; dinner was excellent; didn't sleep well despite the fact we were exhausted, etc. We fell asleep just before dawn and slept in the next morning, so we got a late start back into the cave. The second day went about the same as the first. We worked until both batteries were dead and we were exhausted, yet we were still not even close to getting through. The howling and rumbling continued as the day before.

We developed a system early on and changed it little in succeeding trips. Matt took first shift at chipping away at the opening for about a half-hour or so, and then I took over while he rested. We would try new things from time to time, to use new muscles, but usually stuck to the same method. Safety glasses and dust masks were worn while using the drill, chisel and hammer, which added to our discomfort.

The only light was from the helmet of the one working. While one of us worked the other remained in the darkness and either ate and drank, or just rested on the cave floor, on top of our rope bags. After just a few rotations, we were both tired enough to take a break and catch a nap. It was also a chance to cool down after all the exertion, which didn't take long in the cooler temperature of cave, which had allowed us to work pretty hard and not overheat too much.

I remember I frequently looked at the hole and thought, "Hey, it's big enough. I think I can squeeze through" only to be disappointed in any attempt. However, even after the first failure I knew I would keep working on the hole until I got through, despite the fact it would take many more hours of hard work. It actually became an obsession with me, and, over the next few weeks, I tried to get out to the cave and work as often as I could. I guess the explorer in me wanted to find a new frontier there in the cave. I hoped the passage led to a larger undiscovered cave that we would be the first to enter. Since Matt is such an avid caver he was motivated by the same desires. What we finally did find was not at all what either of us expected...

February 10, 2002 - The Adventure Continues

Scarcely two weeks had gone by and we were already on our way back out to work in the cave. We admitted to each other our obsession with the idea of getting through the passage. That may be a sign of how exciting our lives really were. Its not that we thought there was going to be something great beyond the passage; we just liked the idea of being the first to set foot in a virgin part of the cave. Although, we agreed, if we found a hidden treasure that would be fine with us too!

We got a late start and drove part of the way in the dark. When I tell people I go caving at night they wonder why, but don't stop to think that it is always night inside a cave. All the way out to Hupman's we talked about new ideas to speed up our work. Matt also told me he had talked to some caver friends of his that came up with an explanation about the rumbling noise. They thought it might be the sound of water deep within the cave, possibly a waterfall, but couldn't really explain why the noise seemed to come and go. To me, solving this Hupman's mystery was one more reason to get through.

This trip we took along Jedda, Matt's Australian Sheep Dog. I was not at all concerned about taking the dog into the cave, since she'd gone with us before. She answers the call of nature before we go in, waits to go again until we get out, and is well behaved when inside the cave. We simply had to lower her via a custom-made harness until she reached the bottom of the main drop, then she negotiated the rest on her own. She loves to explore, but won't go out of our sight since she doesn't have a light attached to her. Another reason I didn't mind bringing Jedda along was because we planned on using her as our scout through the hole to see how far into the passage she could go. That might give us an idea what was on the other side, and, if there were a drop-off we couldn't see, the dog would turn around and come right back out. We still had some work on the hole though, before even Jedda could get through. Despite the dog and working in the dark, we were able to rig up and get down pretty quickly. We didn't have to take as many tools, since we had left some in the hole the last time. I did, however, bring two more batteries for the drill, giving us a total of four, plus a few more masonry drill bits. Once we got into the cave something bizarre happened that I couldn't quite explain.

Jedda began exploring as soon as we let her off the rope, sniffing and darting around our feet, running from one of us to the other as we made our way back to the work site. At the point the cave splits into four passages, she seemed to run out of juice and stuck close to Matt, which seemed kind of odd. She seemed edgy, like she sensed something she didn't like. As we approached the short drop-off before the hole, the hair on her back stood on end, she stopped and would come further only after we coaxed her. Finally, as we got to within 20 feet of the hole she began to whimper and hid behind Matt, cowering on the ground with her tail between her legs. Very Strange! I have seen her square off with dogs twice her size, but now she acted as if Satan himself was lurking in the darkness. I figured there must have once been animals that had used the cave as a home, and Jedda smelled their scent. It looked as if there was no way we would get her to be our scout in the passage.

We decided one of us would work while the other stayed with the dog a few feet away from where we normally rested, and got back into our routine of drilling, hammering, etc. With our extra supply of batteries we were able to really push hard on the drill and not have to worry, although it didn't make our work any easier.

My journal goes on for a while about the progress we were making. The entire time we worked, Jedda did not move, but just laid on a rope-bag, shivering and whimpering from time to time. We should have been more observant of this intuitive animal and the fact she never took her eyes off the hole - it may have alerted us to what was to come.

We were on our last battery when the second bizarre thing happened to us. Matt had just finished drilling and was ready to hammer in the chisel when he stopped and looked into the hole. He had a light by his side to illuminate the work area and I could see a puzzled and intense look on his face in the eerie glow. He looked over at me and shook his head. I asked him what was up. He said he heard a strange grinding noise emanating from the hole that sounded like rock sliding on rock. I assumed his ears were just ringing from the drill since he hadn't worn any earplugs, but he assured me he had heard what he said he heard. I didn't have an explanation, so I shrugged it off and lay back to rest some more. Matt sat in the quiet of the cave for a long time before he resumed work, and would stop from time to time to listen. He is very grounded and not one to pursue some imaginary sound. I believed he heard something, but was not too concerned about what it was. I assumed we would figure it all out once we got through the passage.

The last battery died within the hour. We sat around talking about our progress for a few minutes, and I decided to see if I could get my head through the hole. It fit easily, but there was no way my shoulders could get through. As I was kneeling there contemplating how close we were, I noticed something Matt had overlooked: the air blowing from the hole had stopped! In all of the times I've been in the cave it had been a constant force, the last time stronger than ever. Even earlier that day I remember the breeze cooling us off. But now, nothing! Nothing! The rumbling had ceased, too. Bizarre! Matt said he hadn't noticed when either stopped.

This well-used unexciting old cave was becoming mysterious. We talked for a long time in darkness, debating what could possibly be causing these unusual events to occur, but could come up with no reasonable explanation. We slowly loaded up our gear and started for the surface. Once again leaving behind some of the tools just outside the hole. We had made a lot of progress this trip because of the extra batteries, although we still had a long way to go.

The rest of this journal entry talks about climbing out of the cave, getting a room at a motel, and crashing! We were beat! In retrospect I can't believe how casual we were about everything that was happening in the cave. At the time, the only thing we could think about was getting into the passage, and everything else was just a minor distraction. I do recall thinking it would be nice to get in and see how the mechanics of the cave worked (where the wind was coming from, what was making the noise, etc.) Now, weeks later, I think of my ignorance and naiveté and shiver.

March 3-4, 2002 - The Mystery Deepens

It took three weeks before we got back out to Hupman's Cave. Our attitudes seemed to have changed a bit since we first started the project. In the beginning, we looked at the whole thing as a fun adventure, but we now found ourselves taking a more serious approach. We hadn't talked much since the last trip, not for any reason other than scheduling conflicts, soon the way out this time, instead of discussing ways of getting through the passage, we found ourselves talking about rational explanations for the strange occurrences that had happened. Neither of us had any ideas to explain the unusual occurrences and was amused to find out neither had talked much about it to others. It had always been fun to report to friends and family about our progress and tell people about the tight squeeze that we were going to have to go through to get into the passage but not this time.

We left town early in the afternoon to beat traffic. I don't really recall what time we finally got to the cave. We took essentially the same gear as the last time except Matt left Jedda home. We rigged up, started down, and, even with the gear, got down in good time with only one minor mishap. Matt scraped his arm on the descent, but fortunately not too badly. He waited until we got all the way to the hole to clean the wound and patch it up, and, while he was doing this, I started working. We both noticed the breeze from the hole and the rumbling had returned. We had four fresh batteries, lots of energy, and high hopes this would be "the day". When we had first started working on the hole the wall thickness was about 3 inches, which increased as we enlarged it. As a result, our progress has become slower, yet we continued with as much energy as we could put into the work. The hole was now big enough for me to insert the camera and a hammer (for size reference) and take a picture of Floyd's Tomb.

We don't usually talk much while we work, since one of us is making a lot of noise with the drill or hammer. Break times are used to chat momentarily about whatever topic popped into mind, and take place whenever the guy working decides he wants to switch places. We still celebrated the small victories we encountered along the way, and whenever a section we'd been working on crumbled, we cheered. On rare occasion, a fist-size rock would fall, we would whoop and holler. That's one small chunk of earth that no longer separates us from whatever lies on the other side. I still harbored the fantasy of finding a hidden entrance to the other side of the passage, where years ago Spanish explorers had sealed up their treasures, leaving everything untouched for us to discover. Matt had a more realistic, although more mundane theory. He figured there was just more cave on the other side. We hoped to soon see who was right.

This trip I wanted to see if we could speed up the work by using larger masonry bits, and had purchased some good-sized ones at a hefty price. One was larger in diameter than all the rest but created too much friction area for our strength. We tried pushing for all we were worth but all we got was tired. It might have worked with a hammer-drill, but we didn't have one. A smaller but longer bit worked much better with our drill, and we relied on it for most of the work. I thought we were going to be out one drill and my hand, when this bit finally snapped. We were able to retrieve most of the bit and keep using it, minus a couple inches, and work proceeded as normal until we were on our fourth battery.

I was on my knees working the drill slowly into the wall, earplugs in, and safety glasses on lost in thought. Suddenly, I heard a strange loud noise. At first I thought it was just the squeal of the drill bit doing its job, and it took me several seconds to comprehend this noise was coming from inside the hole! I stopped drilling and yanked my earplugs out just in time to hear the most terrible scream I have ever heard and echo into the darkness of the cave. I stared wide-eyed at the hole, and, for several moments didn't move, nor even breathe. I turned to look at Matt, who moments earlier had been lying on the rope bag catching a nap. He now stood upright, mouth open, with a look of fear on his face! I turned and looked into the hole again, half expecting to see a demon's face staring back at me. I fixed my gaze on the back of the squeeze, where the limits of my light reached. There was no motion, only darkness beyond the reaches of my light. In the complete silence that followed I could hear my heart pounding in my ears. Not another sound could be heard in the cave. Floyd's Tomb was the same as it always had been.

Suddenly, I heard a scraping noise directly behind me and straightened up nearly knocking myself out on the overhang. It was only been Matt moving to turn on his light, but I was so wired it nearly sent me to my grave. Matt spoke and again I jumped. He said we should get some rocks and use them to build a wall inside the hole to keep whatever animal had made that noise from getting out. I immediately grabbed a few of our discarded chunks of rock and hoisted them through the opening. Using the handle of the sledgehammer, I slid them as far back into the tunnel as I could reach, creating a wall between the other side and us, the entire time thinking the noise certainly did not come from any animal I knew. I didn't know if Matt really believed it had either, or if he was just trying to convince himself. In any event, we didn't discuss it.

From the time it happened, to the writing of this journal entry two days later, I tried to come up with some possible source of a noise that sounded like a cross between a man screaming in fear, and a cougar screaming in pain. The horrific noise had reverberated through the cave from what sounded like about 100 feet inside the hole. Matt estimated the scream lasted 8-10 seconds, I guessed about 5. It's difficult to tell how much time passes when you're listening in terror to what seems to be a solo from the depths of Hades.

After I had filled the back of the passage with rocks, neither of us spoke for quite some time. Finally Matt suggested we get back to work, but with an eye out for movement in the hole. As we put a light in the passage to shine to the back of Floyd's Tomb, we both realized neither the breeze nor the rumbling had returned. To say I was nervous would be an understatement, although I didn't say anything to Matt, nor him to me. Matt began the drilling, which was fine with me, since I didn't mind being further from the hole. He'd stop from time to time to listen as I just sat there with my light on watching him. From time to time I found myself looking behind me down the passage to the still water. Every time my light would cast an unusual shadow my heart would jump. My imagination was running wild.

Oddly, Matt seemed to be less concerned about the strange noise than me, and appeared to be focused entirely on getting through the passage. I was still straining to listen above the sound of the drill, but heard nothing but the now familiar sound of carbide on stone. As I contemplated the possible scenarios, which might play out on the other side of the passage, I found myself getting strangely somewhat excited again about getting through. It might have been fatigue taking its toll on my mind, or the lingering thoughts of something valuable on the other side.

My thoughts were broken when Matt let out a curse. He said the drill battery was dying, just before he had broken off the relatively large section on which he was working. He set the nearly useless drill aside, picked up a hammer and chisel and started wailing away at the hole created by the bit. After ten solid minutes of hammering, he sat back against the rock sweating and nearly out of breath, the chisel still protruding from the cave wall. He held the hammer toward me, inviting me to take over. Surprisingly, I held up my hand and shook my head. I had been ready to exit this cave for quite awhile now. He didn't press the issue, and without speaking a word we both started gathering any gear we weren't leaving in the passage. I was first to start toward the top of the cave, and several times had to stop and wait for Matt, not because he was moving slowly, but because in my eagerness to get out I was moving more quickly. I had seldom I felt better than I did that night, stepping out into the chilly fresh air.

My journal talks about the rest of the evening: Our dinner, our decision to get a motel and come back the next day, our lengthy discussion on the strange sounds we had heard, another mediocre night's sleep. I cannot believe that we were so willing to get right back into the cave after hearing the scream. Part of the reason I went along with the idea was because levelheaded Matt seemed so indifferent to any possible dangers. Even if it was only an animal, weren't we still possibly putting ourselves in harm's way? In retrospect, I have difficulty understanding our thought process at the time. I guess we were just too eager to discover virgin cave passages or maybe it can be summed up with one word: testosterone.

March 13, 2002 - Back to the Depths

It's amazing what a couple of good meals and a little sleep can do for someone's attitude. Even though we still had memories of the strange noise fresh in our minds, we re-lit our fire of enthusiasm. The other side of the passage seemed so close now, we were sure this would be the day. We got to the cave and started to work our way down into the darkness, bringing back memories of the night before. Once we reached the entrance to Floyd's Tomb, however, we were once again ready to blaze the trail leading to an undiscovered part of the cave. We immediately noted the breeze blowing and the rumbling had returned. This had to be a good omen, right?

The chisel, however, was no longer sticking out of its hole, but was lying on the floor. This was curious, but did not deter us. After all, it could have fallen out on its own. Matt took over where he had left off the day before, and I took up residence in the same spot I had previously occupied, although I felt well-rested and ready to work. Matt was making the hammer sing with each blow, and after a mere 2 or 3 minutes, let out a cheer. The lower left-hand corner of the hole had been giving us more grief because of the extra thickness of the wall at that point. We had felt if we could just remove that corner we might be on our way inside. Matt now held the crumbled remains of that corner in his hands. He was breathing heavily, but had a big smile on his face, as did I. The strange noise had been forgotten and the vision of success completely captured our attention.

Our excitement consumed us as we examined the hole. I grabbed the hammer and pounded away to remove the last jagged edges. The size looked right!

I cautiously approached the newly enlarged entrance to Floyd's Tomb. I quickly decided the best way to enter the small hole was to place one arm over my head, turn my head sideways, and slowly work my way in, although just as quickly determined this was not going to work. While we had worked so hard to enlarge the hole, it was still small. The height was sufficient but the width was the limiting factor. If I was going to make it in without widening it any more, I was going to have to put both arms together over my head, and "dive" into the Tomb.

In order to enter straight into the hole, I stood up as best I could, then stopped to get my head level with the entrance. My position was uncomfortable plus, I had to slightly turn my upper torso to the left, in a counter-clockwise rotation, to negotiate the angle of the entrance.

I got my arms through the entrance, and, by keeping my head turned sideways, was able to get in up to just past my shoulders. I could feel the rocks scraping my shoulders and chest, but decided to push through anyway. In the back of my mind, however, was the thought I was going to have to come back out the same way eventually. The pain was not too bad, and, finally I could get a good idea what the Tomb was going to be like.

There were barely a few inches all around me in which to position my upper body to crawl further into the passage. I could move my head around freely, but every direction I turned I was staring at a wall of solid rock. I could rest my chest on the passage floor, but the rocks were uncomfortable. I lifted my head to look further ahead, but couldn't see past the wall of rocks I had built the day before. Thankfully, I had pushed the sledgehammer into the passage before me, so was able to use it to knock down my rock "wall". The area toward the very end of this passage appeared even narrower, and I didn't know if I could squeeze through or not. It would be close. I wanted to pull more of my body into the passage, but first had to get some of the loose rocks lying on the passage floor out of my way. I was disappointed to find most of them were actually embedded in the floor and dragging the sledgehammer back and forth across the floor barely smoothed them down. Up to this point however, the size of the passage was not too big of a deal, and I was pretty calm since my arms could still move freely. Then it was time for a push.

In order to rotate my hips to the proper angle to enter the hole, I had to lean my upper body on my forearms, use my feet to "climb" the wall behind for leverage, and slowly "push-crawl" into the hole. My hips barely fit, but once they cleared the entrance, I could relax a bit and get in position to work toward the tightest squeeze. The passage was so narrow, whatever position I started in I would have to stay with the entire length, since there was no room to change positions. I decided to try the one-arm- forward technique to get through. Boy, this crawl was tight! I had to fight rising feelings of claustrophobia.

After I had twisted my hips into the passage I took a few minutes to stop and work out a game plan. Most of my legs were still outside the entrance dangling in the air. The Tomb was just big enough to move my head around, and move my arms into position. It was larger than the rest of the passage, but not by much. Everywhere I looked there were rocks, not too far from my head. Any sound I made sounded muffled, "dead". The narrowest part looked like it began about 10 feet into the passage. At the 4-foot mark I would have to commit to my position and stay that way until about the 12-foot mark, at which time it appeared the cave started opening up again.

Matt had given me a flashlight that I held in my left hand so I lead with this arm, my head turned to the right, my right arm pushing from behind, while at the same time wiggling my body. I tried to keep as much of my chest off the rocks, as possible, but soon it became immediately obvious I should have done more work removing rocks from the passage floor. As I moved along the surface, I was constantly scraping my chest on the sharp, painful rocks or wedging them between the floor and me. When the latter happened, I had to back up and either try to move the rocks aside with my cheek, or back up further and move it with the flashlight in my forward hand.

At about the 7-foot mark I could feel the top of the passage rubbing my back as I arched my chest off the floor. After another 1/2 foot I couldn't arch anymore, and I had to just push ahead with my toes and trailing arm. I decided it would be a good time to see if I could back out. I tried and it was pretty easy, which gave me a lot more confidence. Still, I had Matt tie webbing to my feet, just in case he had to pull me out.

My neck was starting to ache from being cranked to the side, and my head was getting heavy, but the only option was to rest on the broken rocks. It was painful, but I did it occasionally. Most of the time I had my eyes closed. It was very quiet in the Tomb, except for my own heavy breathing from the effort it took to move. Thankfully, the breeze was present and helped to cool me off. By lifting my head slightly more from time to time, I could feel the ceiling and gauge the size of the passage my body would soon pass through, much like a cat used it's whiskers to gauge an opening.

While lying in the darkness in a passage deep within a cave, one is in a unique position to ponder. My little trip into the passage represented a major milestone in my caving "career", since I had never felt overly comfortable going through tight spaces. Even the little squeeze at the beginning of this cave was an obstacle to overcome. By forcing myself over the years to try narrower passages, I have become much calmer. Still, this represented a new benchmark. I had never before had to remove my helmet, yet with this passage it had been mandatory. As I inhaled I could feel my back pressing hard against the top of the squeeze. A mountain was literally resting on top of me. One tiny movement of earth and I would cease to exist, or worse, would recognize the fear of Floyd Collins, as he lay trapped for days, incapable of freeing himself. Some thought! At least, there were no eerie noises coming from within to further fuel my imagination.

When I reached the point where my back was constantly rubbing against the ceiling and I could feel with my head the passage was not getting bigger, I knew I was most likely not going to get through. Still, I decided to give it one more push. If I had been in this position a year ago, I would have been in a state of panic, but not today! I was pretty pumped. I took a few minutes to rest, then exhaled all of the air in my lungs, which made my chest to collapse just enough to scoot forward a few inches. This took so much effort I only went a few inches before I had to stop and breathe. As I inhaled, my chest pressed hard against the floor, my back against the top. Unbelievably, I did it again! Exhale, scoot, and rest. I tried the process once more, but my back was rubbing too much to continue. Despite the failed effort, I was still psyched. Matt had been encouraging me the entire time, and it had been fun to hear him cheer as he saw my shoes go deeper and deeper into the hole.

Backing out was not as difficult as going in, but did take some work. I had trouble getting my shoulders out, and, after struggling to find a comfortable position, gave up and just pulled my upper body out. Ouch! My shirt pulled up over my head, and I had some nice scrapes on my shoulders, but I didn't care. I had pushed myself beyond what I though was possible and to me this trip was a success. I knelt at the entrance and looked into the narrow passage I had just negotiated. Whew! What a trip! We were so close now. Between the work and the excitement I was tired, and I just sat on the rope bag, grinning.

The rest of the journal entry talks about the usual: our climb out, dinner, trip home, etc. On our way home we brainstormed and came up with some ideas that would help us get through. We were both so excited we even invented some tools to help us remove the rock on the floor deep within the passage. This was the first time Matt was able to climb all the way out without my help or the use of climbing devices. I remain amazed we could so easily have dismissed the terrifying moments we had experienced just the day before.

April 7, 2002 - Preparation Is Everything

Prior to going back to Hupman's Cave, we spent a lot of time preparing. We made a wooden squeeze box, the opening of which could be adjusted in size. We could then measure to see how tight of a squeeze we could fit through and determined I needed about 8 inches in height to get through the smallest portion of Floyd's Tomb. This meant we would have to scrape out at least another an inch from the floor of the passage. We also learned the best position to get through the passage would be on my stomach, both arms by my side to drop my shoulder blades to their lowest position, and my head turned one way or the other. In order to move, I would push forward or backward with my toes. It sounds difficult, but felt adequate and later proved to work sufficiently.

The second thing we did to prepare was invent and construct tools to work within the confines and conditions of the cave. I came up with a clever way to chip away the inside of the passage without actually having to climb inside. I had my neighbor fit together several lengths of steel pipe in a manner that would allow us to take it in parts on the climb down to the Tomb, but still allow it to stand up to a blow from a hammer once assembled. Matt came up with a cool design using welded angle iron, so an invaluable tool for chipping away and removing rock. I also made a device that attached my drill to the pipe, but we ended up not using it since Matt's scraper device worked so well. We were both proud of our inventions.

It had been three weeks since we had been out to Hupman's and we were excited to get back and finish our project. I made a vow that I would not leave the cave this time until I had made it through the passage and conquered Floyd's Tomb. This would definitely be the trip. Our climb down took a little bit longer than usual since we had extra tools to carry, but we immediately got to work using Matt's scraping tool with my pipe device and they worked like a charm! We hammered the pipe on one end, causing the scraping tool to dig into the rock, then pushed the debris through the passage and out of our way. When we needed to measure our progress we would turn the scraper sideways and observe the clearance difference.

We worked for about 2 hours before I had tried entry to the Tomb. I wanted to make sure I was going to make it through on the first try. Matt made one more sweep of the passage floor, clearing any loose rocks from where I would be crawling. I made preparations for the crawl by applying duct tape on my shirt to prevent it from sliding around while crawling across the rock. Even though my hands would be at my sides, I took a flashlight because I knew I would need it once I got through. As an expression of faith, I did not tie webbing to my feet. Finally, I was ready to make the attempt.

Although I didn't mention it in my journal, I remember both of us noticed both the breeze and the rumbling were present.

Since we hadn't done any additional work to the entrance, I had to go through the same routine as before to enter the passage. Once I got my upper body through the hole I shined the flashlight ahead of me to work out a plan of attack. The passage didn't seem any bigger than last time I was there, because most of the work had been done deeper in the squeeze. I paused for a few minutes, then twisted my hips to get my lower body in, and slowly inched forward to fill the passage. Before I was completely in, I positioned myself for the push, dropping both of my arms to my sides, turning my head to the right. Once I had maneuvered enough so that my toes were inside the cave, I used them to push forward. To keep from scraping my body I would "walk" using my shoulders, knees and toes. Progress was slow but steady and that was fine by me. A foot or two before the tight spot I could already tell there was a little more room, yet even so, I began to touch the roof of the passage with my back. This time, however, I was able to continue moving forward. I reached the lowest point in the passage and could tell it was still going to be tricky even with the work we had done clearing out the loose rocks.

When I felt my back brushing the top of the passage in several places, I knew it was time to revert to my exhaling technique. Before I began, however, I took a minute to lay there in the passage. I could see the glow of Matt's flashlight as the rays of light managed to squeeze past my body. I could feel the cool breeze evaporate the drops of dirty sweat on my forehead. I could feel a thousand sharp edges dig into the surface of my skin. I felt a twinge of excitement as I realized that the goal we had set out to achieve weeks ago was about to be realized. This thought alone made me want to keep moving no matter how tight the passage became. I breathed in and out rapidly for a few moments, then began the routine: Exhale. Scoot. Stop to catch my breath. Repeat.

After just a few inches of this I could raise my head off the floor of the squeeze - the passage was beginning to open up! I relayed this information to Matt and we both took a few seconds to celebrate! During the rest of my slide through the passage, Matt was cheering me on with phrases like "Virgin passage!" and "Neil Armstrong Territory". I was grinning ear to ear.

Even though the passage was beginning to get larger, it was still slow going. I had to continue scooting along for another foot and a half before I could slide my arms underneath me to use them to crawl, at which point I felt my journey was essentially over. I was able to rise up slightly and remove the rock "wall" we had erected several trips ago. Those rocks served as a somber reminder that a little caution might be wise.

I shouted back to Matt that I was through! We both took a moment to congratulate ourselves on our success. Matt would likely never be able to squeeze through the passage and see what I was seeing, so I gave him a description of what the cave looked like, although I only had my mini-mag and could not see very far. The end of the passage made a gentle right turn and seemed to go for a ways. I was finally able at this point to sit up. All of the broken rocks we had pushed through Floyd's Tomb were around me at this point, but there were no other signs of human intrusion.

Matt used the pole we had made to slide me the end of a rope with which to pull all of my gear through the squeeze. The first thing he sent were my helmet and light, so I was finally able to see the new section of cave. It was an exciting experience to see the results of hours of hard work over the course of several weeks. At this point we still had no idea what the cave had to offer, because I could only see the narrow, low ceiling passage immediately following the squeeze. I would easily be able to get through it, but I would still have to crawl.

I asked Matt how far he thought I should venture into the new cave, in light of the strange events that had previously occurred. For the first time, he too toned down his enthusiasm as he remembered the noises. He slid a portion of the pipe through to use as a weapon if necessary. He also told me to make sure we stayed in voice contact as I progressed into the cave.

Even though we were at least thinking of the possibility of running into trouble, we never really considered the fact that if I did get into trouble Matt wouldn't be able to rescue me, nor, in fact, would anyone else for many hours. But, symbolic of the whole experience, we focused on our goal, not the potential dangers we faced. So far we had dodged the proverbial bullet. So far...

I strapped on my gloves and kneepads, grabbed my camera, and began my adventure. I crawled through the new passage taking pictures as I went. At the end the 20-foot crawl, the cave bent slightly to the right and uphill, and it appeared I would be able to actually stand by the end of the next 40-foot section of cave. In addition to having a higher ceiling, it was less narrow than the section I had just crawled through and relatively straight. The floor was covered with fine rock that crunched beneath my weight, and the walls were pristine. However, upon closer examination, I found several examples of two delicate types of formations on the wall. The first resembled several large chunks of grated cheese tied together on one end, with the rest of the "cheese" just dangling down. The second formation was tiny strands, thinner than human hair, of what appeared to be rock. It looked pretty cool.

I was not even through the second section of cave, but due to poor cave acoustics, I could barely hear Matt. I shouted that I would go for another 1/2 hour then return. He said to be careful and not to stay any longer than that. As I proceeded to explore more, I could nearly walk upright. I was on the third straight section of the cave when I discovered a crystal formation on the wall to my right, resembling clear candle wax that had been allowed to melt and drip down the wall. There were also several small stalactite-looking formations formed by these crystals, the longest of which was about four inches.

This section continued on for another 100 feet or so before the cave opened up even more into a small room. At the entrance of this room, there was a flat, wheel-like rock leaning against the wall. This seemed odd, although singular formations are common in caves and by no means unique, although it was more round than others I had previously seen. The room opened up to a height of about 15 feet with a length of 30 feet. At the far end, there appeared to be another passage leading straight out. My excitement grew.

As I entered the room, however, I had an eerie feeling I was being watched, and suddenly I felt very alone. Once again the excitement of the new find faded, and the memories of our eerie experience crept back to mind. Fortunately, it was about time to get back to Matt before my half-hour was up. I took several pictures of the room, and was about to get a feel for how long the next passage was when something caught my attention. On the left wall, at about eye-level, was a single drawing that almost appeared to be just part of the natural coloration of the rock. On closer inspection it looked like a very crude representation of people standing below a symbol. This meant, just as I'd thought, there had to be another entrance to this cave. And, even if it was closed or blocked, it might mean an opportunity to open it and get Matt into the cave. I quickly studied the drawing to make sure I could describe it to Matt, took some more pictures, and then headed back.

When I got back to the squeeze I excitedly shouted back my discoveries as rapidly as I could to Matt. He was just as excited to hear about our newly found treasures. As we debated what our next move would be, I began to send my gear back through the Tomb. I told him it would be best if we got someone else to come back with us, in case something happened to me, and he agreed. Once I got all of my gear through, I was faced with the wonderful task of having to re-negotiate Floyd's Tomb myself.

Theoretically, a person should be able to get out of a passage he just crawled through by simply reversing what he just did. If he contorts his body a certain way to get in, he should be able to get into the same position to get out. In practice this may not prove to be possible or practical. Such was the case now.

I decided this time to attempt going headfirst back through the squeeze, because going feet first would mean backing up all the way through the Tomb to reposition myself, which would take a long time and be very exhausting. My only concern was I would have to go through the hole at the end of the squeeze without the benefit of being able to twist my body. However, I chose to deal with the exit when I got to it.

I started into the squeeze very close to the tight spot, so at least I would have it over with soon. I seemed to tire more quickly, probably from all of the work I had already done. I was a little over half way and taking a brief break when I heard a faint sound deep within the cave, like rock sliding on rock. My blood froze in my veins and I couldn't move. I lay there straining to hear the sound again. Nothing. I quickly began to scoot toward the exit. The task of getting out of the hole turned out to be as painful as I thought it would be, but I was out. I didn't mention the sound to Matt, but I did recall when Matt had heard the same thing on one of our earlier trips.

Matt and I began to load up our gear, making too much noise to hear if there were any more sounds coming from the hole. As much as I had looked forward to getting into the passage, it was a relief to get back out, which is pretty much how I feel about caves in general.

The next day I took the film of my exploration to one of those 1-hour development places. Those I had taken in the passage leading up to the large room turned out fine, however, none of the pictures taken in the room itself turned out, including those of the round rock, nor the "hieroglyphics" I saw. The negatives of these photos were clear! Nothing. Very strange. I remembered pretty much what the hieroglyphics looked like, so I drew a picture to give Matt an idea of the symbol in the center with several human-like figures raising their hands below it.

April 14, 2002 - The Adventure Nears an End

Only a couple days elapsed before Matt found someone who was able to explore the passage with us. He said those he'd asked had really grilled him for information about the cave and the passage, but he hadn't told them which cave it was to ensure we were able to explore it to our own satisfaction before we made it known to the public. Even the guy who ended up going with us (I'll call him Joe), did not know which cave it was until we were very close to it, and was sworn to secrecy on its location. The three of us set out early in the morning, and were able to rig up and descend rather quickly. It helped not to have to haul half a hardware store down into the cave. Joe was impressed by our hard work, and Matt and I took a minute to pat ourselves on the back.

Joe is a rather thin, experienced caver. He said this might be the tightest squeeze he had been in, but it didn't bother him. I knew physically he would be able to make it, since he was smaller than me. He quickly got ready and was waiting to hear the plan of attack. I figured I would send him through first, I would follow, and Matt would pass our gear through and wait for us outside the passage, giving us two hours to return. With our plan set, we were ready to roll.

In hind sight, it was irresponsible of us not to tell Joe anything about the unexplained events that had occurred previously in the cave, but we did not really feel we were in any eminent danger. Of course, when we told him later, it was too late.

I couldn't believe how easily Joe slipped through the passage. When I reached the tight spot, I had Joe snap a picture of me, then Matt started to relay my stuff to me and I turned around in a crouched position to pull it through. I had just gotten my helmet and light and turned quickly to feed the rope back to Matt when I smacked my head hard on the top of the passage. Matt sent my first aid kit through to patch up the bleeding, but I felt too dizzy and disoriented to continue. When I told him, Joe looked like a little kid who'd been told Christmas would be cancelled. Although selfishly, I didn't like the idea of him exploring the cave without me, I told him to go ahead and explore some the cave since he had, after all, volunteered to help us.

I told him how far to go, how long it would take, then sent him on his way. As I lay there getting my bearings, his light disappeared around the first turn, and I heard him crawling into the darkness. I rested a minute or two more, then began my journey back through the squeeze. I was extremely disappointed to not be able to explore the passage to its end this trip, so when I met up with Matt, I told him I would pay for a motel room if we could stay overnight and try again the next day. Matt said he was willing to do so, as he was just as anxious to put closure to this cave experience as I was. Hopefully, Joe too would agree to stay overnight. Once this was settled, we sat back and enjoyed the darkness. We heard no sounds coming from the passage, which conversely reminded me of the scraping noise I had heard last time. I decided to tell Matt, but since I had not explored the cave completely, I could not offer any explanation of what made the noise, what caused the change in wind strength, or the cessation of the rumbling, or the source of the terrible scream. Suddenly we both wished we had not sent Joe into the cave alone.

Matt went to the hole and yelled "Joe". No answer. Not surprising since you can't hear each other when you are not very far apart in this cave. We nervously awaited any good Joe-type sounds. The twenty-minute time limit we arbitrarily set for this passed. Another twenty-five minutes ticked by, but I really had no desire to climb back through the squeeze since and my head was still throbbing. Still, I knew I was going to have to make sure Joe was safe, and was preparing to go back through, when I saw a light deep in the passage. "Joe?" I yelled. Nothing. "Joe!" Still no answer. The light got brighter and I could hear him crawling across the broken rock that lined the cave floor. "You ok Joe?". "No", was finally his weak reply. When he got to the far side of the Tomb, he said he was not feeling well, quickly took off his gear and put it in the bag so we could pull it through. As I pulled the bag through the passage, he climbed back through the Tomb, and quickly slipped through the squeeze and entrance. He looked terrible. His face was pale, his eyes stared wide, cave dust covered his face and clothes, he had numerous small cuts and scratches on his face and arms, and he was out of breath.

We only had a brief moment to note this before Joe headed up and out of the cave without saying a word. Matt quickly followed him while I took a minute to gather our gear. I stopped to listen for sounds within the passage but heard and felt nothing. The wind had stopped! Part of me wanted to get out of the cave as fast as possible, but another part wanted to immediately climb back through to find out what made this cave tick. This was not the time, though, since I still felt a little dizzy from my careless injury. I noticed Matt and Joe had made good time getting up the cave passage and I was alone. Chills ran through my body and I scurried to catch up with them.

Once outside the cave, I figured we would be able to find out more from Joe, but he just unclipped from the rope and went straight to the truck. Matt and I gathered up the rope and our gear and headed for the truck. In the light of day, Joe looked even worse than he had in the cave. He did not want to stay overnight, so we headed home. Joe just stared straight ahead, shaking like a leaf, but said he was not cold. We could get no more information from him. When we tried to question him his answers were short. I asked if he had seen the hieroglyphics. "No". Had he heard us yelling to him? Did he see the round rock? The crystals? "No, no and no". Something was fishy about his answers. He would have had to have seen the crystals if he had gotten far enough into the cave to not hear us yelling. He finally said he had just gone a little ways in and had started to feel sick, and would not elaborate further.

Joe didn't say much else even after we gave him a brief outline of the strange events that had happened previously in the cave. The rest of the trip passed in eerie silence. As we were dropping him off, we asked if he wanted to go back in the cave with us. He shook his head and ran into his house. I tried to call him later the same day and the next afternoon, but only got his voice mail. He did not return my messages.

April 28, 2002 - The Terror

In this journal entry I briefly discussed the feelings Matt and I had at this point. I would like to elaborate on those feelings, and the mood for this part of my journal, and hopefully convey our exact thoughts and feelings as we contemplated our next move.

This cave represented the culmination of weeks of hard work and an array of emotions from fatigue to fear, to anticipation, to pain, frustration and glory. To us, we were not standing on the brink of possible destruction, but rather honoring an unspoken commitment much like that of a parent to their wayward child. Like it or not, this cave had become a part of us. We were not about to abandon our "child" out of fear of the unknown, and now must see this adventure to fruition. Additionally, verbose explanations aside, we were being eaten alive with curiosity! Despite the overwhelming number of unexplained occurrences we experienced, we had to go back into this cave. What was making the rumbling noise? What caused the change or absence of wind strength? What could have possibly have happened to Joe? We had many lengthy discussions about what our next move would be over the next few days, but kept coming to the same conclusion: We had to return to the cave. We could offer no possible scenarios to solve the many riddles held deep within the cave. The only way we could hope to complete the puzzle would be to conquer Hupman's Cave.

Two weeks after our trip with Joe, we were on our way back to the cave. In preparation, we had contacted the local cave rescue group and gotten permission to borrow their low-voltage, two-way phone so I could stay in contact with Matt the entire time. We also thought it would be a good idea to so Matt would be able to see the entire passage.

My head was long healed, although I still had a light red line to mark the spot where I had tried to break the rock with my head. I have often thought about what would have happened if I had been able to go in the passage with Joe. He was a changed man when he came out. I have been calling his house nearly every day, but he won't answer his phone. Matt called him at work and was told Joe called out sick two weeks ago and hasn't been in since. He said Joe warned his boss he might be out for a while. I even stopped by his house twice. The first time it looked like someone was home, but no one answered the door. The second time his car was gone and there were no lights. I had hoped to talk to him before this trip, but it didn't work out.

As we were rigging up the rope to descend, I suddenly felt for the first time that I did not want to go back into this cave. It was not a feeling of foreboding. I was not receiving some premonition. I just had no desire to enter the underground world of Hupman's Cave and solve the mysteries. I didn't share this feeling with Matt, and, instead, double-checked my gear and slipped over the edge of the pit. Right from the beginning, it seemed like the cave did not want us to be there. Nothing went smoothly. Every time we tried to clip a carabiner, tie a knot, or attach something to the rope, we had to do it two or three times to get it right. Fortunately, we recognized this and made sure everything was safe and secure. As we slowly made our way down, we were continually bumping into the sides of the cave, stumbling as we walked, or dropping things. Our load was relatively light but we were taking forever to get to the hole. We reached a point where we stopped to gather ourselves before continuing. We checked the camera and phone to make sure they had survived the trip, and I gathered the gear I wanted to take with me into the passage. Finally it was time. We silently looked at each other and I turned to face the passage. As I twisted to make my way into the Tomb, I swore it would be the last time I would contort my body to enter this claustrophobic nightmare.

My trip through the Tomb went relatively smoothly and Matt began to pass everything to me. I suited up and tested the phone, which worked like a charm. I videotaped the squeeze and the first section of the new passage. Since I would be unable to tape while I crawled, my plan was to get to the next section, stop, then video what I had just been through as well as what I was about to crawl through next. I was starting to feel better about the trip, and develop a sense of personal satisfaction at being able to provide a way for Matt to see the fruits of his labor. It was awkward lugging the camera and unrolling the phone wire while trying to crawl, but I knew it would be worth it.

The small formations were going to be too small to show up on the video with my headlight as the only source of light. The crystal formations, however, were easily large enough to make for some pretty good footage. When I stopped filming I called Matt. The phone resembled an oversized regular phone like those seen in old war movies. The power source was on Matt's end and was always turned on. When I wanted to talk to Matt, I just plugged the phone into a special jack on the spool of wire I dragged along. It was comforting to hear someone's voice deep within the passage. We chatted briefly then I unplugged the phone and continued forward.

Progress was slow, but steady, and things were going well until I reached the round rock where, once again, I got that strange feeling of being watched. I looked around carefully, saw nothing to be alarmed about, and proceeded to film the entire room. I got good shots of the round rock from all angles, the walls, ceiling and floor to the best of my ability. I even got some pretty good footage of the figure wall drawing, even though it was difficult to make out exactly what it was. After I taped everything to my satisfaction, I moved toward the end of the room towards the passage that led into darkness. The entrance was about a foot lower than my head and it looked liked it continued at that height for as far back as I could see with just my head lamp. I took a deep breath, and ducked under the entrance prepared to see new sights. The walls of the new passage were darker than the rest of the cave to this point, although the floor was made up of the same type of broken rocks some of which looked like calcified bones. The ceiling had the same near-perfect arch as in the beginning section of Hupman's Cave, which almost seemed almost out of place in this jagged cave atmosphere. I could only see about 30 feet or so ahead where the passage appeared to make a right hand turn. I thought this would be a good place from which to check in with Matt.

It took a couple of beeps before he answered the phone, and he sounded like he might have been snoozing. (Had I been gone that long?) He said he was doing fine and I could take as much time as I needed. His patience has been wonderful during this whole project. I was glad he was still willing to sit and wait. I thanked him, hung up the phone and started to film the new passage. Then it happened...

From behind me I heard the scraping noise. It was loud, close and coming from the large room I had just left! As I wheeled around to face whatever had made the noise, I lost presence of mind and stood up at the same time. My helmet crashed into the passage ceiling breaking my light, and I was buried in heavy darkness. Pain shot through my neck and down my back, although the helmet had protected my head from cuts this time. Fear enveloped me, my knees began to weaken and I slowly and involuntarily slumped to my knees. I set the camera down as I began to see stars from the pain in my upper back. The scraping noise had lasted only a second and now the only sound I could hear was my own panic- inspired breathing. Not only could I feel the fear thick upon my chest, but also the darkness seemed to hold me in place. I felt vulnerable from every direction. I turned to look behind, beside, and in front of me, but everywhere I looked I saw black. I was shaking violently as I sat there trying to figure out what to do. My mind was not thinking clearly, and I honestly thought I was going to die right there in the cave. Finally, I broke the stupor of terror long enough to reach for an alternate light source, the backup mini-mag. I twisted the light to turn in on and nearly cried. I had forgotten to put in fresh batteries and it shown barely more than a few feet. I strained to get a glimpse of any movement in the room. Nothing.

Since I had removed as much as possible from my pack to allow for the phone and camera, one of the things I had left with Matt was my 2nd backup head lamp. Thus, the only other light I now had would have to come from glo-sticks. I found one in my pack, ripped it out of the package, but could tell something was wrong by how it sounded. It had been inadvertently broken and was now useless. I chucked it on the ground and fumbled around in my pack for another one. I took my eyes off the large room only to check the passage behind me occasionally. I found and activated another glo-stick, and its soft green glow created eerie shadows on the cave walls. It provided barely enough light to see the immediate area, with no hint of what lay ahead. I felt the pack for another glo-stick and, without taking my eyes off the room, activated it and threw it into the large room.

The throw was a perfect one, but as the stick sailed through the air, I could see nothing but cave walls and rocks that looked like bones. The absence of anything unusual did nothing to ease my state of panic. At the far end of the room I got a brief glimpse of the round rock before the light bounced behind the rock and seemed to disappear. I was still shaking, but at least I hadn't seen anything weird, although I once again heard the scraping noise. For a fleeting moment I wondered how Matt would ever know what had happened to me if I never returned. Then it hit me almost as hard as my head had hit the ceiling – the phone.

With fumbling fingers in the light of the glo-stick I managed to plug into the jack. I put the phone to my ear and heard... nothing! The usual beeps to indicate connection were not there. Terrified I pulled the phone from the jack and re-inserted it. Again, silence. The line was dead. What could have happened? Hadn't I just talked to Matt? I found myself nearly sobbing with fear. I knew the only way out of here was back the way I had come, but now something was there! A third attempt to contact with Matt met with the same results. I tried to think of another plan, but could only focus on the grinding sound I had heard. In my weakened state, I slumped against the side of passage, breathing like I had just finished a race, never breaking eye contact with the shadows of the large room. As my shoulder touched the wall, powerful jolts of pain remind me of my collision with the roof of the cave. Agony, terror, despair.

I can't say exactly how long I sat there, but my feet began to tingle and my knees were sore. The pain in my back crept lower, although my neck felt no worse. I resolved to make an attempt to exit this evil passage, because if I waited too long I would loose what little light and coverage I had. I attempted to stand, but did not have the strength. I crawled slowly to the near end of the large room, dragging my pack beside me. Using the walls of the cave, I was able to slowly stand, and still breathing rapidly, advanced inch by inch through the room, winding the phone wire around the wheel as I went. I was staring straight ahead straining for any signs of movement. With every step my light cast ever- changing shadows on the wall, keeping me on edge. My eyes burned and I realized I had not blinked for several minutes. How long had this been going on? Surely not as long as it seemed. The only sounds I heard now were the crunch of my feet on the broken rock, the wheezing of my breath, and the squeak of the phone wire wheel, each turn of which brought me closer to the Tomb. Closer to Matt and safety.

The short distance across the room took an eternity. As I passed the crude drawing it seemed to glow, as if offering some sort of warning. I didn't yet know what the drawing represented, but everything about this cave seemed to instill fear. Toward the far end of the room I could see the round rock dimly in the far reaches of my light. Something seemed different about it, but I couldn't tell what. When I got within a few feet of it I finally realized what had changed. It had moved! Was that was the sound I had heard. The rock could not have moved itself. Again terror gripped my entire body as I realized how close I was to... something! I had no choice but to continue at this point. I inched toward the rock, holding a glo-stick ahead of me in my shaking hand to pierce the darkness. I stopped just short of the rock to wind up the slack in the phone wire, and realized why I had lost contact with Matt. The rock was now sitting on the wire! I gave it a tug and the thin wire snapped, ending my only hope of contact with the outside world. I had never felt so alone and helpless. Buried deep within the earth, I had voluntarily descended into my own casket of solid rock.

With the phone now useless, I set it down in the passage, my gaze fixed solidly on the round rock. I proceeded forward, my breathing rapid, my mouth dusty, and my throat dry and aching. With every crunch of the rock below my feet my heart seemed to stop, although no movement could be seen in the green glow of my stick. When I reached the rock, I took several rapid steps past it and recoiled in terror at what I saw. On the side of the passage near the floor was a hole, which revealed yet another passage with bones that…. looked human. Obviously it had been covered by the rock, but now it was exposed! Why? How? By whom or what?

I quickly backed away from the hole and collided with the opposite wall like a pinball. I had not been paying attention to the pain in my back, but now it came back to me in all its fury. I tossed in the glo- stick and stared down the newly revealed passage. It was illuminated just enough so I could tell it went down at a 45-degree angle and continued straight for as far as I could see. The walls were fairly smooth, as was the floor, unlike the rest of the cave. The passage was about 3 feet in diameter and would have been easy to explore, if I had the least desire to do so. Right now all I wanted was out of this cave and into daylight. I slowly backed away from the hole toward where I'd left Matt, never taking my eyes off it, and nearly tripped over the phone wire as I turned to leave this devil's lair. My mini- mag was practically dead, and I wanted to sprint to Floyd's Tomb.

As I turned away from the large rock and the hole, I felt an overwhelming sense of panic fill my soul. I felt as if my salvation lay ahead of me in the darkness, while Lucifer, close behind me, was trying to keep me from it. My only thought was to get out as quickly as possible. I stumbled past the crystal formation, barely even noticing this beautiful creation of nature. Every time I ducked to avoid a rock I felt my back scream in reminder of my injury. When I got to the point in the passage where I had to crawl, I flung myself down on all fours, barely slowing down as I dropped. When my hands came in contact with the cave floor, I felt an electric shock shoot all the way down my arms, and simultaneously down my back. For the first time since this nightmare had begun, I let out a scream. I crumpled down and lay there on the rock, with new levels of pain manifesting every time I inhaled. Whimpering from fear and pain I tried to listen for any other noise in the cave. I could feel the silence pounding in my head. I knew from previous trips that Matt was close yet still out of earshot. I was sure just hearing his voice would alleviate some of the fear I was experiencing.

Forcing myself to move, I pulled my body onto all fours and started my progress. I had ceased checking behind me, for now my focus was solely ahead of me. Finally I reached the last stretch of cave before the squeeze. As I crawled toward the beginning of the Tomb I called to Matt. Thankfully, he answered, asking if I was okay. I literally screamed "no" and for him to get everything ready to go. When I reached the rope, I flipped off my helmet, shoved it into my pack, and realized for the first time that I had forgotten my video camera. It was a fleeting thought, because at that point I cared no more about that camera than a passenger of the Titanic had cared about a hat or coat. I tied the pack to the rope, told Matt to pull it through and start heading toward the surface. He asked why and I shrieked in a voice that didn't even sound like mine that there was something in the cave with us.

My back ached with every move I made, but it didn't matter anymore. As I started into the squeeze the wind in the passage increased, and with it, came the most nauseating stench I have ever experienced. It smelled like rotting, rancid flesh – like death! I started to dry-heave and pulled my shirt over my nose to shield me from the over-powering smell. At this point Matt smelled it too, and yelled, "What the devil is that? Hurry up and get through." I shouted I was coming, took a deep breath and started back through. Matt's yelling, new sense of urgency, and use of the word devil out had intensified my fear and panic, as if I needed any help. As I worked my way through I yelled at him to start up, that I would catch up with him. He found a glo-stick in his pack, placed it in the passage, and began to quickly climb out.

This time through the squeeze I had no regard for the tightness, and, even though I was scraping my face, ears, arms and shoulders, I barely noticed. My back was nearly paralyzing me with pain and that, combined with the stench wafting on the breeze, created a rising need to vomit. Despite all of this, halfway through Floyd's Tomb I had to pause to catch my breath. I was approaching exhaustion and my breathing and heart rate were through the roof. It was then I once again heard the scraping noise coming from deep within the cave. It continued for several seconds, then silence. I let out a cry, which startled me. I was no longer consciously reacting to the noise. The cry was a subconscious response to the fear, which flowed through my entire body. In a panic I began to scoot through the passage. As I reached the largest part of the Tomb I quickly slid my arms under my body to get into position to exit. I grabbed the rope and pulled with all my might. When my shoulders reached the hole they lodged and I was stuck! I dug my feet into the rocks, wiggled my way back into the passage, turned my body slightly and tried again. This time I was successful in pulling my upper body through. Normally I would carefully work my way out, since there is a 3-foot drop on the outside of the hole, but this time I kicked and pulled and unceremoniously plopped out of the Tomb, right onto my shoulder. Strangely, I felt no additional pain.

I rolled over onto all fours, then slowly rose to my feet. Thankfully, the stench was much less intense outside of the passage but no less frightening. I grabbed the glo-stick Matt had left, used it to find my helmet, and began to head for the webbing. When I reached it and lifted my arms to grab hold I recoiled in horror. In the light of the glo-stick I saw for the first time my forearms covered with blood from deep cuts and scrapes. In this brief moment, I also noticed profound silence once again in the cave, and the feeling of being completely alone, which motivated me to proceed post haste. I was running on pure adrenaline. Unfortunately, the adrenaline surge was about to end.

I did not see nor hear Matt until I reached the small area at the bottom of the drop. He was on rope and climbing out as fast as he could. I could hear him breathing heavily. I called out to him and his startled reaction told me he was nearly as tense as I was. He told me to get on rope and start climbing although he was still on it. We both knew that would be dangerous and not something we would ever normally do, but this situation was anything but normal. I stood there looking up at where the rope disappeared into the darkness above me. It danced around as Matt made his way to safety, and even though he was out of sight, I knew he was close. The rope was my lifeline to the outside, to light, to safety. Behind me was darkness, fear, and unknown. I had the fleeting vision of a movie scene where the actor had outwitted the monster and reached the haunted house. Then just as he reaches for the knob of the door to his safety he hears a sound behind him and turns, only to see...

I slid the glo-stick into the cord on my helmet and reached for my harness, waiting for Matt get a little bit higher while I pulled the rope up that stretched down into the cave. This would make it easier to get out once we got to the top of the drop. From above, I heard Matt warn me, "rock", and I ducked under the ledge as several small rocks landed on the floor near my feet. I quickly went back to pulling the rope in, coiling it on the floor rather than around my sore arm. I had about half of it in, when the rope hit a snag. UGH! It was stuck solid. There was no way I was going to crawl back in to release it so I decided to just forget the rope and get out of the cave. I quickly started to buckle my harness, but before I could secure it, I heard a strange noise at my feet. My pulse began to quicken. I looked down only to discover, to my horror, the rope was disappearing back into the darkness. SOMETHING WAS PULLING THE ROPE BACK INTO THE CAVE!!!

As I let go of the unbuckled harness, I began to claw my way up the rope as fast as my battered body could manage. Panic caused me to move clumsily, scraping, bumping, and gouging my arms and legs as I went. Luck was with me in that I didn't slip and fall back into the hole, from which the injuries would probably have been fatal if not what lay within the cave. Finally, I could see light above me coming from the entrance.

As I caught up to Matt on the ledge below where our re-belay point was fixed, I yelled at him to keep going. It would only take him a few minutes, but every second would be torture for me as I waited for him to get up before I could begin. I watched the rope we had just climbed up half-expecting to see some creature ascending to make me it's lunch. The rope moved around a bit in rhythm with Matt's climbing, but did not appear to have any back-tension on it, but as I waited, I kept watching the rope for signs of anything bizarre. I didn't know if my heart could take any more stress. I tried to relax a bit to make sure I was thinking rationally, but my poor brain had reached sensory overload. As Matt reached the top of the last climb I got ready to clip on my ascender and get my sorry butt out of there. It was then I noticed the rope began to tighten from below. I could feel the back-tension on the rope, but it was steady not like someone was climbing it. Either way, I wanted out as fast as possible. I got up the last few feet in a hurry, unclipped and kept on moving in Matt's footsteps, leaving the rope behind.

By the time I got to the entrance of the cave and daylight, Matt was almost up to where the rope was anchored. I wanted to get up so badly I almost started to free climb without even clipping on to the rope. I was near total exhaustion but managed to recover enough to pull myself up the last few feet. I could hear the added tension on the rope manifest itself by a stretching noise and prayed the rope would not break with me still attached to it. The second I reached the top I unclipped the ascender, limped over to where Matt was kneeling down by a tree and collapsed. For the first time since I'd gone through Floyd's Tomb, we looked into each other's faces and just stared. I knew I looked pretty bad, but hadn't known Matt was in such bad shape with cuts and scrapes on every exposed surface of his body. He was breathing heavily, his face was ashen and his mouth and eyes were fixed wide open. The shock we shared at the other's appearance was broken when we heard the rope around the tree stretch and watched the knot Matt had tied tighten. I was frozen in place, overwhelmed with fright. Matt seemed to be transfixed on the knot, but then, in one swift motion, produced a pocketknife and began to hack at the rope.

It is amazing how a person's state of mind can alter the perception of time. I'm sure it only took 4 or 5 seconds to severe the rope from the tree, but it seemed like an hour. When cut, the knot fell to the ground, and the end of the rope zipped across the rocks and over the edge of the cliff, making a humming noise as it went. Matt let out a cry, dropped the knife and fell backward. I got up and headed toward the truck while Matt just stood there, wide eyed, staring at the point where the rope had disappeared. I yelled at him to break his trance, and he got up and hurried away from the tree, the cave, and the nightmare. Neither of us said a word all the way home.

It took me 4 days and dozens of attempts to get this entire experience written into my journal. Every time I started to write I recalled the terrible feelings I had had and couldn't write anymore. Yet I felt compelled to continue, to document the unbelievable events while all of the details were still fresh in my mind. I can still feel the pain, smell the stench, and experience the terror. I would like to write more, but it will have to wait. Even now, with several days between the events and me, I can't relax. I can barely concentrate.

May 19, 2002 - Has It Ended?

A lot has happened in the last three weeks, so I'll do my best to cover everything. I guess I should start where the last entry left off. It took several days to get the last journal entry written down. When we left the cave I was still nearly in a state of shock, could not think clearly, and was having a difficult time trying to understand what had happened. I'm glad I had the presence of mind to write down my experiences while they were fresh in my mind. As I re-read what I had written I feel like I accurately captured what happened in the cave that day. Writing in my journal was kind of therapeutic and I briefly felt better. Unfortunately it didn't last.

Matt and I parted company after the trip and I didn't see him again until yesterday. I didn't try to reach him, nor he me. Neither of us tried to contact Joe. I was so shaken up from the experience I could do little else but sit and ponder what had happened. I tried to go to work several days after the event, but my boss sent me home. I couldn't concentrate and I looked terrible. Right now I am on long-term medical leave from work. Yes, I've been to a doctor, but I couldn't tell him about the experience, just that I was under a lot of stress. He recommended rest and gave me a prescription to help me relax.

I was depressed and confused and had no one I wanted to turn to for comfort. I was getting all kinds of phone calls but just let the answering machine take them. I even changed the message to tell everyone I was all right. I continued in this miserable state, eating and sleeping whenever I could manage, until a week after the trip, when things turned from bad to worse.

At first I was hearing indistinct sounds in the house that had no explanation. Footsteps. Shuffling noises. Creaking doors. You know the typical horror movie. If it weren't for the fact I heard them frequently, I wouldn't even have been sure there were any noises in the first place. Either way, I was scared. It was as though I had been caught in a spider web with feelings of anxiety, foreboding, and tension filling my life. Next came what I can only call hallucinations.

I began seeing "things" time- related to the sounds I was hearing. I'd catch a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye, but see nothing when I turned directly to look. I had been sleeping with the lights on in my room, but now kept all the lights in the house on from well before dark to an hour after dawn. According to Navajo beliefs, when people die, the evil in them lingers. These spirits are known as "chindi". When someone dies among the Navajo, tradition calls for the house to be burned to the ground and the person's name never to spoken again. If the body is not found, then evil must have it. If you do evil, the chindi can attach itself to you and no one can detach it. So be afraid of chindis if you are evil – be very afraid.

When I began to see apparitions on a regular basis I purchased a gun from an ad in the paper, so I didn't have to wait for a permit. As the severity of the "sightings" increased, I took more of the medication the doctor had given me to relax, although it did little to relieve my anxiety. I next began to see shapes and shadows outside my windows, usually at night but not always. I kept my drapes and blinds closed all of the time now to remove the possibility of seeing "something". My life was a mess, mechanical and empty. I lost a lot of weight. I'd only been out of the house a few times to go to the store and the doctor, and to make the gun purchase. I didn't watch much television because I couldn't concentrate, but spent a lot of time on the Internet doing research on caves and cave myths. I found nothing related to my experiences.

I also began to have extremely lucid nightmares with no specific theme or recurring events, just terrifying visions. Sometimes I was in my house and someone was trying to get me, but I couldn't run because I had no legs. Other times I was in a vat and someone was pouring a copious amount of syrup-like liquid on me. I would wake up in a panic, and stay awake until exhaustion forced me to enter dreamland once again. It was a brutal routine, which reached a climax yesterday. I was drained of energy and spirit and walking slowly from the living room to my bedroom in the early evening. As I looked down the hall, I saw a dark figure toward the end. I thought it was a thief and began to back up slowly. It didn't move, but the lights began to flicker off and on. Every muscle in my body tensed and I froze in place, staring at the figure. Then the phone rang, startling me so badly I stumbled over a chair. When I got up I wheeled around to look down the hall and nothing was there! I grabbed my keys and left the house. My pulse pounded in my temples as I got in and started the car. I felt compelled to drive to Overlook Point to see the city lights, although I didn't know why. The closer I got, the more urgent the feeling. When I arrived at the point, I saw something that at first startled me, but then caused me to be more relaxed than I had been in a long time. Joe was there! He was out of his car, standing looking at the lights. We looked at each other, and I could see from the haggard look on his face he had been going through the same ordeal I had been experiencing. Our conversation was unbelievably brief. "You been back?" he began, even though he knew the answer. "No." "We have to return." "I know." "Tomorrow good?" I asked. "Yeah, noon." I hadn't even wanted to talk to him about his experience, and obviously he didn't want to know about mine. He got into his car and I got into mine. Next thing I knew I was driving over to Matt's house.

When he answered the door I thought Matt actually looked like he was doing fine, was even somewhat happy. One look at me and his disposition changed. Our conversation was succinct. "I ran into Joe, and we're going back in tomorrow at noon." Matt looked dead serious as he just nodded his head. I asked him if I could spend the night at his house and he eagerly agreed. I didn't notice until later, but every light in his house was on. He led me to his spare room. "Help yourself." I washed up in the bathroom, took some medication, and got the first decent sleep in a long time. I awoke early and went home to get ready for the trip. I thought I would write this update before we went back in, so no one would wonder what's going on with me. I suspect by the time most of you read this I will be back home and will have a great story to tell. I promise if you haven't heard from me by now, you will very shortly. It is now 10 a.m. on Saturday the 19th. We will be leaving for the cave in two hours.

Preparation for this trip will be like no other. For the first time in my life I will carry a gun into a cave, as well as a knife, an extensive first aid kit, plenty of food and water, a camera, several sources of light, and a pad of paper and pencil. Finally, I also will carry along a good length of rope into the passages on the other side of Floyd's Tomb. (This sends shivers up my spine just typing it.)

There are so many things I hope to accomplish, so many answers I hope to find in a tiny passage hidden from view. Reflecting on the events leading up to today leaves me feeling dizzy. Was it all a bad dream? Unfortunately I am wide-awake, and in a few short hours, might face my nightmare. The thought of having another person with me in the passage does nothing to alleviate the fear I feel. I almost chuckle as I ponder a childish notion we will have to consider: Who will enter the Tomb first, who will lead the way into the dark unknown? Who will decide when to turn back? Foremost among the questions in my mind is, "What about the video camera that I left behind"? It is supposed to be able to record in complete darkness. I think I had left the thing running, so what might we find on the tape?

Although it is difficult to put an exact name to my motivation, I think "closure" fits quite nicely. I still need to discover a few things about this cave, the main thing, believe it or not, being the end of the cave. With all of the bizarre things I have witnessed these past few weeks it seems a bit trite to want to get to the end as my primary goal. To be sure, I will be seeking other bits of knowledge along the way. If, however, I find the end to the main passage, and an end to the passage hidden by the rock, I will be content to never return the cave again. At least I'm telling myself this is why I'm returning.

It would seem to me that crawling head first through a tight passage into the darkness is as unnatural as crawling up the side of a cliff, or jumping out of a perfectly good airplane for recreation. We do these things to satisfy our hunger for adventure, as a subconscious desire to conquer our own little Everest. As Matt is fond of saying, "Caving is the last opportunity for exploration for the person with modest means."

I know from your phone messages, many of you don't agree with my decision to pursue this cave. I'm afraid I don't have a choice. If you define yourself only by your exploits, your feats of physical courage when the time comes that you can no longer perform them, you have lost the standard by which you measure yourself. If I am ever to experience restful slumber, I must return. If I am ever to walk the halls of my own home in peace, I must return.

Tennyson wrote in the last lines of Ulysses "To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield." For my family and friends who are reading this I say, "Be at peace". I will conquer this cave. I expect to be home later tonight or tomorrow at the latest. I'm sure I'll see all of you soon with a lot of answers! I'm sure.

- Fred