The rest had been up at the crack of dawn to get their hire car back before their flight, but with most of the cleaning done last night there wasn’t too much for the three of us to do – mostly bagging up leftovers (must plan better next time).
We checked out and headed down to the Bourne Gorge once again to park up next to the EDF station and the start of the steep walk up into the picturesque Jurassic Park combe, complete with its 360m waterfall ab dominating the valley. We were glad of the shade of the humongous porch of the cave, and all felt dizzy trying to look up, or even in front of us to figure out the scale of the footbridge and bystanders in the entrance up ahead.
We leapt over the barrier at the end of the bridge, and made the traverse around a very deep lake. There are decent bolts here in case it were ever used for a novice trip in future. Through the eyehole network we went to emerge into the huge proportions of the entrance area. This was a knackering scramble up huge boulders, and we were already sweating profusely from the 36 degree temperatures outside. The roof closed down a little as we got to the top of the rubble pile, and the cave continued as rock-hopping at a high level for most of the rest of the way.
Some nice stals and bosses in the Village Negre broke up what was a bit of a monotonous trip. At the end, the siphon temporaire seemed to be closed, leaving us not much in the way of options but to make our way back out. Maybe we’d been spoiled by the other caves this week, but the entrance area is certainly worth seeing alone.
After getting back down to the car and changing, it was down to the plains for a supermarket stock-up – it was non-stop through to Staveley from here. With only really a petrol stop on the way up France, we once again made good time up France through the power of energy drinks and some minor medication, and managed to get on an earlier train. Other than part of the M25 being closed, Scott chugged us back through the endless average speed zones and back to the familiarity of our tiny part of the caving world.
Furon had been on our list when discussing last night as an alternative to the initial choice of the Ecouges, as some of the others wanted a rest day but also wanted to Ecouge. We did our research and again with it being just 8 minutes from the house, it won out as the option for a lazy lunchtime start. We timed it just right, with the morning guided groups just exiting, and the afternoon groups starting as we finished.
We were blown away that the parking spot had not only a large topo printed on a sign with notes, but also a toilet! We slapped our gear on in the scorching sun and headed quickly down to the shade of the forest at the start of the canyon. We rigged the first 11m drop for most of us, with Connor choosing to jump it. Down another short drop then we were into a long (15 minute) wander among boulders with little action. We still managed to find a few splashes and tunnels along the way though.
Next the obstacles started appearing as the walls of the gorge closed in and we entered the ‘Furon Express’ – a quick fire series of fun slides and jumps, with some abs in the mix. We had a great do and highly rated it! The final 8-9m drop was abseiled by all except Scott and Connor who decided to brave a jump, and lived to tell the tale. An ‘X’ scratched into the canyon wall and the start of a staple route out signalled the end all too soon, and we began the sweaty 40 minute slog back up to the car park, just in time for Scott and Connor to critique an instructor from the safety of the bridge above.
Grotte de Bournillon hike
I was due to begin my trip home in the evening, and I didn’t want to take wet kit home, so a gentle stroll seemed in order. We found the turn-off to the hydro-electric plant on the way to the massive amphitheatre of Bournillion. We were going to park near the plant, but there was a notice saying ROUTE BARRÉ so we parked on the road, only to notice that it went on to say … A 1KM. Never mind, it was a pleasant downhill walk to the river, then a sweaty uphill hike towards the cave entrance. As we got closer, the tiny ribbons of water falling down the cliff face were revealed to be a sizeable river emerging from a 350m vertical drop. The cave entrance was suitably impressive, and the twittering of bats was noticeable, though they were too high up to see properly. Not being properly equipped, we didn’t really go into the cave, but enjoyed our lunch in the shade of the entrance before heading back and stopping for a welcome ice-cream at the Charanches show cave.
Connor, Jason, John, Miranda, Scott, Steve, Tom, Yolanda
This trip had had its fair share of planning effort too, and we parked up at the Choranche show cave fully equipped with a 2 person inflatable, a high capacity pump, half a paddle and…some 1mm jute twine.
We inflated our boat at the car and awkwardly wound through the ticket office and onto the path skirting the combe towards the Gournier entrance. As usual, we enjoyed the curious stares of onlookers as we fannied around trying to find a way that our twine wouldn’t just snap instantly, and would be haulable from both sides. I’m not entirely sure what system was constructed in the end, I enjoyed just being cargo.
At the far side of the entrance lake, a couple of staples and a polished climb led up via 4 rigged ropes, to a wide shelf and the start of a traverse through a high-level eyehole that marked the beginning of the fossil series. We made a bit of an error in assuming that at least one of those ropes was in-situ, and failed to rig our own (if the ancient bolts would even have fitted one more set of rigging on?). We’d also made an error in judgement by convincing ourselves that only cowstails were needed on this trip, for traverses. By the time we’d bumbled up the staples and ropes using them as handlines, most of us already regretted the decision not to carry full SRT kits, and vowed we’d always take a full kit or no kit in future.
But that was a problem for later KCC, because right now we were stomping along the high-level fossil series enjoying the increasingly stunning formations, with tons of photo opportunities. We eventually reached the beautiful gour pools and flowstone of the Salle des Fontaines. After a while admiring it, John and Miranda decided to make their way out, and the rest of us pressed on to the first access point down to the active streamway, after a quick snack break.
As we reached the streamway we immediately realised it was something special. We were all excitedly bounding our way upstream, through pools, around traverses trying to keep dry, before Steve canonballed into a deep pool sending water over everyone and we embraced the canyon-like nature of this part of the trip. Many of us had decided this was our new favourite streamway
Eventually reaching a stapled traverse above a deep pool, we ditched some gear and headed upwards. Once again another deep pool opened in front of us, with the only option now to swim round the corner. Jason and Yolanda were already getting chilly so started making their way slowly back. We leapt into the piscine, around the corner and on to a rising stapled route avoiding a cascade. At the top, as more deep water revealed itself, enthusiasm began to wane and people began turning back to catch up with Jason and Yolanda. Eventually we were all heading back out, and after winding back up the access funnel and refuelling, we stomped quickly for the exit.
As we reached the traverse, we caught another group up. They were the final ones exiting the cave other than us, and were de-rigging…the last remaining ‘in-situ’ traverse line. Thankfully, Scott and Connor had brought a 25m out of sheer forethought, and we re-rigged it behind the Belgian team, shuffled our way across to the ledge and de-rigged behind ourselves, ready to re-rig it for the descent to the boats on various Piranas/Fig 8s.
John and Miranda, on their way out, had befriended some lads from the Shepton Mallet, and they’d kindly offered to swim our boat back into the porch after John and Miranda had made their exit. So we were quite surprised to find it sat waiting for us, all moored up. We tried to rig a system with our slightly-too-short-for-the-job rope, involved Steve dangling on a tiny ledge halfway out of the lake. Two by two we made our way back across, ready to pack up, deflate, and wander back to the empty car park for a late evening finish, a drive back up the gorge to our waiting pizzas etc. polishing off a lovely day.
Connor, Jason, John, Miranda, Scott, Steve, Tom, Yolanda
The day started for Tom with a 6am call from Steve requesting their pickup from Molieres – they’d survived and were making a brew in the car park. 45 minutes later he pulled up to see two corpses, Steve laid on the gravel covered in an emergency blanket, and Connor half asleep propped up against a fencepost. Their various kit items were strewn across the car park in a semi-orderly way as if their organisational obsessions had started a job their bodies couldn’t finish. They scooped it up and piled into the car and we headed down to base camp to sign them out, and chauffeur them back to a well deserved cuppa and nap.
A lazy morning followed as we nursed our aches and battered gear, then ideas began circulating about using the gondola at Villard for an easy downward walk. It was then revealed that we could Mountain Kart down from the gondola, arms were twisted and everyone committed.
We headed up to the car park and bought our tickets, the sun now beaming much hotter than we’d had so far. The kart man wasn’t happy with Jason’s sandles and sent him to get a refund and a passenger ticket instead. The rest were given silly net hats and briefed in Franglish.
We headed up in the gondola to some lovely views at Cote 2000 (which was a lie, being more like 1850m up). We lined up and battle commenced. Overtakes, off-roading and some powersliding saw us all speed down the final hill to the finish line…but where was Yolanda? Steve helpfully told the staff ‘Un person perdu’ (‘One person lost’) as if reading out the survival stats for our group. The chap got us to wait 10 minutes, after which a search and rescue guy came over to take a description of her and quiz us about her driving style.
A nervous wait that was soothed by ice creams, when suddenly Yolanda appeared bedraggled across the plaza dragging her Kart. She’d taken a wrong turn it seemed, ending up on a steep boulder track, and had finally realised this when the track started going uphill. A lady pointed her towards a different track down to town, and she’d popped out on the other side of some apartment blocks. She was rewarded with an ice cream, and we decided we’d had enough adrenaline for the day.
We split up, with Tom, Scott, Connor and Steve heading to Croque Montagne for some extreme shopping via the stunning Bourne Gorges, while the others headed to Intermarche to stock up on BBQ goodies. Due to poor planning, we’d failed to leave the house keys with them though, and they began dehydrating while locked out. In an act of empathy Steve got their minds off their thirst with orders to pre-light the BBQ.
Tasty meal and a lazy evening, with boat preparation and an earlyish night ready for tomorrow’s planned trip – the Grotte de Gournier.
Connor, Jason, John, Miranda, Scott, Steve, Tom, Yolanda
The big B was upon us. Connor and Steve had their meticulously packed bags ready and weighed ready for their attempt on -1100m. The rest of us were to go for Camp 1 at -500m. Final meals had been eaten and we headed out for everything we’d been training for and stressing over for the last couple of months.
We’d chosen a leisurely start time of 9am when registering our trip at Base Camp, and trundled up the slow and battered road to Parking des Molieres. Thick mist and the ringing of cow bells greeted us as we got changed, and we headed off.
Yolanda’s cow phobia was rampant as we wove between a herd on the track, but we soon cleared them and headed into the murky and eerie forest for some extended route-finding. Just as we began to doubt our directions, the word ‘Gouffre’ scratched onto a wooden post pointed us onto the caver’s trail that winds through the overgrown lapiaz to reach the entrance. For future reference, the route is roughly: North from the car park along the grassy ridge; after it begins descending towards woods, take a right and head downhill. Follow yellow and green painted route markers until you reach a signpost in the woods showing you’re at Lapiaz. From here, take the downhill path and after a few minutes, a wooden signpost with ‘Gouffre’ scratched on marks the caver’s path – then just follow the cairns.
Team -500
After letting the bottoming team head in first, we followed them down the short entrance doline pitch, through a slot onto the Puits de Ruiz. Connor’s calls of ‘Rope Free’ at least 3 pitches ahead of us rang on deaf ears. After this, the Holiday Jumps lead down broken pitches to emerge on a ledge above the Puits du Cairn. At this point, Scott wasn’t feeling it and beat a hasty retreat for some hiking and car sleeping, taking Tom’s sandwiches with him in his Daren drum.
We descended to the cairn at the bottom of the pitch and recongregated, dropping off a bottle of isotonic and some cashews for our later selves. From here, things were set to get a little more awkward as we entered the Meanders – a few hundred metres of traversing in a tall meander, getting higher and higher above the floor. There were traverse lines in for most of it, but this wasn’t a huge relief when the footholds ran out. But nobody had a particularly wretched time, on the way in at least…
Miranda chirped happy noises as she declared we’d reached the end of the meanders, and we were now at the head of the Puits Garby. This 38m was fairly straightforward with a nice take-off from a solid little trough, although Tom had issues with the 9mm rope sliding too quickly through his Stop – no need to touch the lever, both hands were holding the tail end trying to slow it down.
At the base of Garby, it was straight back into another meander, this time with the occasional wooden stemple, which were actually quite annoying as they trapped any dangling tackle sacks. This meander was also a little spooky, with the traverse line ending in the middle to leave you to trust your footing above the yawning drops below. This too ended though, with a welcome traverse line appearing, which descended grubbily to the head of the Gontards pitch.
The rest of the entrance series followed in quick sucession, down a few short pitches and to the slightly spooky head of the Puits Aldo. This involved some minor acrobatics to get out to the hang, a 42 metre drop down a lovely gaping shaft.
Happy to be down all the bigger stuff, we wound our way through the short passage at the base to emerge into the humongous Grand Galerie. It was a great time for a quick refuel, Miranda’s Babybels supplementing Tom’s lack of sandwich planning.
The character of this half of the trip was obviously different, weaving among rocks in vast passage, occasionally following the Starless River as it wound into the depths. We soon reached the empty Lac Cadou which was just a basin of slippery horrid mud, then on into the Salle Bourgin for our first taste of reaaally big stals. After a few photos we continued on to meet 3 short easy pitches which spat us out into the top of the Grand Eboulis (Great Rubble Heap). This was just a bit of scree and boulder-hopping steeply downwards, and we knew the lowest point of the trip awaited us.
We arrived at Camp 1, not sure what to expect but it was probably more than 3 tarps hung over ropes, sitting empty. Where was the memory foam? It was a good job we’d opted for the shorter trip.
Then it was time to admire the Salle des Treize, with its amazing stal columns and green gour pools. Tom snuck on down a handline climb to ensure he’d definitely passed the -500m mark, then we perched by the pools for a Mars and some hydration. Now our real hard work would begin…
It seemed much longer and more knackering progressing up the large master cave, which made sense given that we were ascending around 250m during this part, 90% without rope. At the Petit General, the team we’d bumped into lower down had pulled the rope up through the deviation a little too far, and it was only by climbing partway up the cascade and standing on tiptoes that Tom managed to get it back down. Onwards and upwards, and we caught the other team up by the bottom of Aldo. Tom rudely overtook them, with the thought of getting Aldo behind him overriding all etiquette. After a wait at the top for them to re-overtake and the rest of Team -500 to ascend, we continued on our way up the short pitches and the Gontard, which marked the start of the tricky 2nd Meanders.
These were rather disgusting on the way out, with a few awkward and exposed moves from the top of Gontard before the traverse line abruptly ends for no particular reason, and again it was good to get these and the stemples behind us to reach Garby. The last biggish pitch to get out of the way, and it seemed to tire us all a lot more than expected given how many hours we’d now been going at it. And then it was the first Meanders left to struggle along. We were swamped with relief upon reaching the cairn, as it was only an easy succession of shorter pitches separating us from the surface now.
That said, they were still exhausting and particularly when having to pass the rebelay on the Ruiz, arm strength was really starting to wane. But Scott’s friendly face peering down the entrance doline was a welcome sight and encouraged us all up the entrance pitch, and with a deep sigh of relief we signed out. By this point it was dark, although Scott’s now intimate knowledge of the route led us unerringly back to the car, although not without us all whinging from sheer exhaustion. After signing out at a ghostly quiet base camp, we headed back for post-midnight snacking, a celebratory beer and we all slept fantastically.
Video of the Team -500 trip:
Just starting – keen and raring to go…
… 11 hours later: Completely Bergered!
Team -1100
Having walked in together as a group and enjoying the usual walk chat, we couldn’t help but think that in 12hrs time we would be having very different experiences. Team -500 would probably be aching but enjoying the local wine and food, then Steve and I would be ascending from the bottom, just us two dreaming of the very same thing.
As we reached the surface camp, we all kitted up sorted kit out for the last time before heading down, then in short words said “see you in a bit” to the others. We were quickly pulled back by Miranda for a team photo, (it kind of reminded me of something mum would do on your first day starting upper school) then we made first decent of the entrance pitch. Time in 1030hrs. Descending just a couple in and growing distance from Tom who followed behind us, the calls for “rope free” turned more into distant mumbles and as Steve dropped his first bottle at the base of the Cairn pitch, we separated off from the other into the meanders.
After battling some awkward moves and shuffles through the narrow rifts with some slightly concerning empty voids below, we soon arrived at Garby’s Pitch where we realised the cave had a lot to offer, pretty much all three pitches grew deeper and deeper in size. By the time we bottomed Aldo our every growing interest of how large the main river series was going to be was soon answered. With an few scrambles and a couple short crawls, we arrived at the colossal Grand Gallery. A couple of pictures taken and a quick drink, we decided not to hang around much longer knowing just about enough to know what was still ahead of us. We soon approached a very empty Lac Cadoux which only welcomed us with a very bog like centre, we scurried around it and continued further and further along the starless river.
Now having not seen the others for nearly 1hr 30, we were soon reminded of our fellow humans. Sat amongst a large pile of boulders was a party of four, who had taken a moment to stop for some food and a hot drink. Quickly realising the language barrier we made short conversation, they asked “how far you going?” we replied “1000, to the bottom” and a short concerning response of “Oh very far, long way”. A quick farewell and all the best, we pressed on down the Great Rubble Heap. Soon arriving a camp 1, we ditched our return kit and had a quick snack and drink. Not knowing when we might return we pressed on to reach The Hall of Thirteen, which to our surprise two cavers were setting up for some speleophotography and had lit up the entire area. It was a pleasure to see it all in its colours, crystal white formation with Light green and blue lagoon surrounding them. The temptation to stop for longer and enjoy the view but NO.. we had to keep moving. Time check 1250hrs
Passing great gours and more great formations, we progressed onto the cascades and canal section. Multiple deep water traverses and waterfall pitches, we were feeling good with our pace and in a positive mind set enjoying or time and the challenges we were faced with. |We had previously worked out that we were already a couple hours ahead of our predicted schedule and were eager to knock of a few more hours. We soon moved into more impressive and loud waterfall sections and the volume increased the further we went. Claudines cascade and the topographers pitch welcomed us into the Grand Canyon, more abseils and scrambles followed and were rewarded with yet more large passage on great formations. Passing the Hall of eight and camp 2 we approached the Grand Cascade, it almost sounded like the cave was pulsing due to the immense water falling down it, you could feeling the booming of crashing water as it almost appeared to fall into an endless abyss which was masked with spray. At touch down from the descent and through the screen of spray, we spotted another group of cavers who were returning to the surface. This was a bit of a surprise as just before camp 2 we met a team from Belgium who had been to the bottom and reported to us they hadn’t seen anyone ahead of them and presumed we would now been progressing on alone for the remainder of our decent. Passing a further 9 cavers all in short space of another, we were now soon approaching the Hurricane Pitch. Yet again the sounds was met before the beats itself, the we were forced onto a small ledge to begin a awkward and daunting traverse onto the head. It was certainly a moment of feeling exposed, as you were commit fully to dangling of the traverse line over the void below, then move yourself across onto the Ab line with no ground insight, it was certainly adrenaline activating. Checking things at multiple times at multiple rebelys, we signalled each other with the whistle this time to call the ropes and eventually made it to the base. Both laughing meeting each other at the ground we were both happy but slightly relieved we had passed it.
Our last decent had past, we had made it to Inlet -1000. There was a good amount of water coming from it , probably due to the previous stormy days before. We wanted to push a bit further and managed to make short progress before meeting some very deep water. Neither of us fancying the deep cold swim, Steve removed his worn glove and we shock hand and congratulated each other on the decent. All that was left now was 1100 meter of Ascent… Amazing. Time check 1710hrs
The return was much different, each pitch the struggle grew and the fatigue began to slowly make an appearance. Checking the survey the reality of how far we had come set in after finding we had been moving nearly two hours now of going up and still had roughly 800 meter to go. Steady progress and keeping on pushing on continued and tried to keep our pace. The Cascades and canals certainly seemed to go on and on but eventually making it along the last couple traverses with the prize for Steve of a rope knife from a “deeper than it looks” pool, we made it out and back into the Hall of Thirteen. We took the opportunity we had previously passed on and took some pictures of our own, and shortly round the corner we made it back to camp 1. Time check 2330hrs. Both happy to stop and rest for a moment, we changed into some warm dry clothes and got a brew and some hot food going, this was certainly one of many highlights of the trip, food always tastes amazing when you actually need it.
Rested legs and food partially digested, we got our boots back on and into our suits and got going again. Clock back on, Time 0050hrs. Moving back through the Great rumble heap, around Lac Cadoux and then finally through the Grand gallery, we made it to the entrance series junction. A shortly farewell to the cave we had just spent some life memorable moments in, we left and headed back up Aldo and the other great pitches until reaching the meanders. We were feeling good and surprisingly not as exhausted as we felt after leaving the camp. Before we knew it we were most of the way through and back at the Cairn. retrieving the last bottle, we quickly confirmed we had been hearing voices, but the good kind, and met a trio of cavers heading up the last few pitches. Our suspicions had been high as the deep mumbles and the ever growing smell of cigarettes were telling us we where catching someone. The Trio accompanied us all the way up the last pitches to the surface.
0500hrs Tuesday Morning, we were out and breathing the fresh air once again. Feeling grateful and now tired, we once again congratulated one another and then got our SRT kits off for comfort for the walk back. We began around early morning hike back to the car park. After 30mins we managed to get hold of a sleepy Tom and arranged for our pick up. Loitering partly asleep, Steve got a brew on and we awaited for the little red car to appear over the brow to take us home.
Connor, Jason, John, Miranda, Scott, Steve, Tom, Yolanda
Tom, Scott and Connor met in Staveley at 3pm on the Friday and began their 928 mile drive. Scott steamed us down to Folkestone, but the bloody Worldwide Computer Problem had mucked things up and our shuttle was delayed a few hours – enough for a few stolen minutes of sleep on the departure lounge benches. Tom took over from Calais around 5:30am for the drive down France, powered by zero-sugar energy drinks.
Jason had opted for rail travel, and the rest were up early doors on Saturday for a flight to Lyon. They picked up their hire car and we met at the rendezvous hypermarket around 1pm with only 10 minutes between us. We stocked up in the rat-riddled Carrefour with plenty of goodies then headed to Bourgoin-Jailleu station to collect a ponderous Jason, found perched reading below a tree, along with his fantastic 70s rucksack which slotted nicely on top of Scott in the back.
Onwards to our base for the week, a gîte in Lans-en-Vercors. While it had never probably been intended to be a caver’s hut, it did a pretty good job of being one, with the correct amount of trees for airing all our gear out on and doing occasional SRTree in. A hosepipe, a shed, and a luxury ‘WC GRINDER’ toilet which electrically mulched anything you could shit in it, what more could we need?
Grotte de l’Olette
As a warm-up day to prepare for the main event tomorrow, we thought this seemed a great option and was minutes away at the top end of the Furon Gorge. Tom and Connor headed up for a scout of the facilities and the reportings were good, so we went back to pick up the others. The approach is fun, heading steeply up from the layby to a lovely ledge that whirls you round before heading further up the woodland to the top entrance, a ‘geological curiosity’, as the book describes it.
We descended into the large scenic sinkhole, with the waterfall cascading in. A dead snake gave us a fright, I believe it was a Boa Constrictor. We split off exploring various nooks and crannies before deciding on the biggest available hang for the next descent. Never quite leaving daylight, we headed down past a fairly wide deviation which was good practise, and onto a ledge high in the bottom entrance portal. A cracking training venue and a good introduction to the area.
Connor rigged up a guided ab line and we took it in turns to zip across it, before some headed back to the car while others practised rigging, ascending with a pantin and other bits and pieces.
After heading back home, we got our Sunday bests on and headed over to the Berger basecamp for the briefing meeting. Being the only Brits we just about got enough scraps of info after the main French briefing to piece together what was expected of us, and wrote our plans on the big pad. Some bought the t-shirts (a little presumptively) and we chatted to some European nutters about their digs, particularly a German chap who showed us their highly efficient and well engineered spoil cablecar. Then it was back over the pass to our Gite for some careful alcohol consumption mixed with nervous packing.
