spelunk spe·lunk [spi-luhngk] verb (used without object)
to explore caves, especially as a hobby.
Even though I have a pretty good case of claustrophobia, I've always liked caves. My phobia isn't a full blown raging case of it, but I just don't like being in tight, cramped spaces and if I wasn't crazy when you put me in a straitjacket, I would be in a matter of a few minutes. I've been to "civilized" caves, such as Carlsbad Caverns (and want to go back to see the bats come out at sundown) as well as the Inner Space Cavern near Georgetown, Texas (video tour), but I've also explored several lesser-known and smaller caves.
When I was in junior high, I had one of the best teachers I ever had the pleasure of knowing. He was a brilliant man, a full-blood Cherokee Indian with something like six master's degrees and hundreds and hundreds of college credits to boot. I don't really know why he deigned to teach a bunch of knotheads like us, especially since he didn't have much patience for kids, but if you showed an interest, he would go the extra mile to teach you all you could absorb.
He took us on several class trips, one of which was an extended tour of the western part of Oklahoma where he grew up - a bee farm and tombstone factory were two of the stops - and we spent the entire morning going through a cave system on private land belonging to an old friend of his.
Looking back, it was amazing that we did that; these days schools certainly wouldn't want to be exposed to the potential liability that crawling through caves full of rattlesnakes, bats and other dangers would entail. I could write a thousand words about all the things we did on that one day, but will just relate one story in this post about that trip.
Most of the other kids went fairly far into the cave system, but another guy and I went so far back, we had to start crawling. I stopped when it got too cramped for even that position, but the other guy scooted along on his stomach for another hundred yards, only coming back when he disturbed a colony of bats. (it was too narrow for him to turn around,so he had to scoot backwards) It sends a shiver down my spine thinking about that now.
When we came out, the teacher, the two parents who took cars (my dad being one) and the rest of the class were waiting on us. We were a sight, clothes torn on the rocks, wet and dirty from our spelunking. The teacher just smiled when we told him how far back we had gone and said he had always thought about going even farther, dressing in a wetsuit and greasing himself up so he could fit through the tight spots. He said he thought he could find an underground river that fed some springs in the area.
I'm glad I did that, but wouldn't care to do it again. I guess that's the difference between that carefree (or careless) boy I was then and the cautious old fart I am today.
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