A Caving Trip Turns Deadly
They were in a kilometre-long, 100-metre-deep cave when a flood of water blocked their way out
THE RAIN COMES DOWN STEADILY. Jason Storie hears it but is not worried. He listens to it as he prepares for a day of caving with five friends in a remote spot 130 kilometres northwest of his home in Duncan, on Vancouver Island, Canada. It’s caving, not hiking, he tells himself. I’m not worried about some rain.
Quickly, he dons a T-shirt, then two sweatshirts, a pair of overalls, neoprene socks, a water-resistant jacket and rubber boots. Under his arm, he proudly carries his new helmet and headlamp, the first pieces of equipment he has not borrowed from his buddy, Andrew Munoz.
“Sleep in,” he whispers, bending down to kiss his wife, Caroline, goodbye.
“Have a good time. Be careful,” she says. “Always.” It is 6am on December 5, 2015. A newcomer to the sport, Jason has gone caving only four previous times. This will be his toughest outing yet: a cave called Cascade, in scrubland near the city of Port Alberni. The cave’s difficulty rating is so high, the entry is blocked by a locked rectangular metal door in the ground, and the key can be obtained only after everyone going in signs a liability waiver.
At 1.1 kilometres long and 103 metres in depth – deep enough to drop a 30-storey building into – it is full of turns and tight squeezes, including a narrow passage that leads into a short, tight downhill called the Bastard’s Crawl, which in turn leads to a waterfall not quite a metre wide that is known as Double Trouble because a jutting rock splits the stream in two.
It’s going to be so great, he thinks. A little water has never scared me!
Jason is the out lier among the group, with the least experience and, at 43, older by a decade and more. A shaven-headed father of two young children, he’s stocky, like a wrestler, not slim and wiry like the others. It was Andrew, 33, a paramedic and extreme athlete who lives nearby with his wife and infant daughter, who introduced him to the sport.
“There are over 1000 caves and tunnels on Vancouver Island,” Andrew would say. “Come with us. It’s never the same.” Although the danger level was high, Andrew was the perfect person to start out with, a former guide in the famous Waitomo Caves on the North Island of New Zealand, a patient teacher and a paramedic who would know what to do if something went wrong.
EACH TIME HE HAS CAVED, Jason has felt awe. Underground, he is
an old-time explorer in an ancient, ever- changing world wrought by Mother Nature and water, inexorable and inconstant – a world where he relies on quick wits, courage and working as a team rather than mobile phones equipped with text messaging and GPS. In a cave, there is no room for showboating or competition. Not if you want to survive. Jason gets into his utility and drives north along the highway for 15 minutes to the Ambulance Service in the town of Chemainus, where he meets Andrew and Adam Shepherd, also a paramedic, who have just completed shifts. Adam has also done some caving; they all pile into Andrew’s 4WD van and go to Ladysmith to pick up Zac Zorisky, chef and volunteer firefighter.
It is raining lightly as the van rolls north, but the mood is light as the guys try to outdo each other with statistically remote possibilities. “Imagine if we get stuck.” “Yeah, or a rock falls on us!” “Or one of us breaks a leg.” “Keep it light, keep the stress at bay,” says Andrew, the group’s defacto leader because he has the most experience. His short brown hair sticks up in patches at the crown of his head and he sports big, black discs in his earlobes.
At about 8.30am, he turns off the
highway and stops at a shop where he picks up and signs for the key to the cave opening. It is here that they rendezvous with the last two cavers, Matt Watson and Arthur Taylor. They all pile into the two vehicles and drive up an unmarked trail for about a kilometre, before coming to a stop in a clearing. Here, they take inventory to make sure they aren’t missing anything.
Waterproof gloves and liners? Check. Ropes, harnesses and carabiners? Check.
Two bags that contain a lightweight, gas- fuelled ‘ Jetboil’ stove, dehydrated packets of soup and stew, bottles of water, snacks, a first-aid kit and a ‘space’ blanket that resembles a sheet of aluminium foil. Check, check and check again.
They all know the cardinal rule of caving without having to say it aloud: always be prepared for the worst.
Down a steep, short hill they hike, occasionally grabbing onto tree branches for leverage, before coming to a stop at the door in the ground.
You’d never know it was here if you weren’t looking for it, Jason thinks.
IT’S A BIG PART of what he loves about caving, the unexpected: you never know what you’re going to find. Some of the most interesting caves are the ones you have to squeeze into, where there might not be an obvious way forward – features like a pile of boulders blocking the way that you have to figure a way through. That’s what I love, Jason thinks.
It is 10am. The door is pulled open and one by one they climb nine metres down a rickety ladder made of steel cables with aluminium rungs into the black, each anchored with carabiners to a rope just in case they slip. As their eyes adjust, the black shows glints of gold, grey and charcoal, limestone carved by water, forbidding and sharp. It is damp and chilly, about 5°C.
Once they’re all at the bottom, they make their way down a narrow
passage studded with jagged boulders, taking turns to carry the bags of equipment. At first, the silence is broken only by heavy breathing. But as they move further in, there is a constant drip-drip-drip from above, like coins being dropped on the rock. Soon, the drip turns into a light but steady flow, and they are wading, up to their shins.
It would be nice to have a half wetsuit like Andrew does, Jason thinks. Maybe next time. “Everyone OK?” Andrew calls. “Yeah,” comes the reply. “Yup.” “Me, too.” About 45 minutes in, Adam announces he can’t go any further; his back, injured a few months earlier, is twinging and he doesn’t want to slow down the others. Matt escorts him back to the entrance to let him out, then closes and locks the metal door again. The others wait.
THEIR CHALLENGE is to reach the end of the cave. On a previous visit, they didn’t make it, forced to turn back because of the late hour. Now, they have plenty of time to take it slow and notice everything around them: the rock wall, a jagged outcropping, a pile of rocks, a pool of mud. And always, always, the water, which at times they must wade through.
For the next 90 minutes they are explorers, crawling and striding and sliding through pipe-like passages and chambers that are like the nave of a church, big but not overwhelming. They manoeuvre their bodies through the tight, wet passage that leads to the Bastard’s Crawl, another small passage studded with rocks, with a sl ightly sharper incl ine. Sometimes, there is just a trickle of water in this passage. Today, there is more, and it is flowing quickly. “Crabwalk!” Andrew calls. They do, going single file and feet first, their bodies shifting slightly from side to side as they make their way, keeping their heads up so that their headlamps illuminate each step.
AT THE TOP of the waterfall, Double Trouble, they set up ropes and harnesses to rappel down. “Careful!” they call to each other. Boots f ind purchase on sl ippery ledges. Gloved hands claw for leverage.
Their challenge is to reach the end of the cave; to take it slowly and notice everything around them
So far, so good, Jason thinks. You wanted a harder challenge. You got it.
There is something intangible yet wonderful about making it down a waterfall. It’s a feeling of accomplishment mixed with relief, tossed in with lots of adrenaline. The water gushes on either side of a rock formation that juts out from the wall, landing at the bottom in a spray of bubbles.
We do it because it’s there, Jason thinks. We do it because most people will never experience this.
A few minutes beyond Double Trouble, at around 1pm, they stop for a quick lunch. Andrew fires up the Jetboil to make beef and chicken stew with rice. They start out again 20 minutes later to get to the cave’s end, only a quarter of a kilometre away. But within minutes, they have to turn back; Zac is shivering. Although the temperature hasn’t changed, the cold can hit you at anytime, no matter how warmly you’re dressed. They decide to turn back. Together.
First Matt goes, then Arthur, then Jason, Zac and Andrew. They retrace their route, ten minutes, then 30. The sound of rushing water is growing louder.
“Careful!” the cavers up front call back. No one wants to slip on a rock that cannot be seen, maybe turn an ankle, injure a knee or sprain a wrist.
As it nears 2.15pm, the cavers approach the bottom of Double Trouble. Now, the sound of the water has turned into a roar, and at the bottom, it churns in an angry white froth.
It has been raining pretty steadily for two days and caves act as the earth’s drainpipes. But no one was nervous at the start. They are prepared. They have a stove. They have food, water, the thermal blanket and first-aid supplies. For cavers, the watchwords are to expect the unexpected, and the trip was not going to be long.
This is going to be fine.
MATT ATTACHES THE ROPE that was left attached at the top of Double Trouble to his harness and starts hauling himself up. The journey is not long, maybe four storeys high, but it’s tough, precise work, hoisting one leg, finding a tiny, wet shelf in the rock wall, then a gloved hand, then the other leg. Once he is up, he lets the rope back down and Arthur makes the climb, then Jason, straddling the water and determined not
At Double Trouble, the sound of water has turned into a roar, and it churns in an angry white froth
to slip. At the top, Jason gets on his stomach to pull himself up the incline of Bastard’s Crawl.
One, two, three – the water smashes into his face as he powers through it. God, it’s cold! Finally emerging through the opening into the next tight passage, he pauses, puzzled, because it splits into two.
I don’t remember this. Which way do I go?
He can’t see the two cavers ahead of him and he is nervous about waiting at the top because there is really only room in this spot for one person at a time.
I’ll just go back down and ask, he decides.
He starts to make his way down the crawl in a careful crabwalk. He’s glad he’s wearing thick, blue plastic gloves, which protect him from the slick sharpness of the rocks. Suddenly the force of the water pushes him to the ground, submerging him, and he feels the pressure of more water building up behind him.
If he doesn’t get out fast, the merciless, freezing surge of water will pop him out like a champagne cork, over Double Trouble and onto the rocks below.
Don’t panic, he tells himself. Then: But I can’t move! My boot’s stuck!
Lying on his back with the water rushing over him, he tries to call for help, but instead he gasps frantically for air. It has been about five minutes, but feels longer. He thinks of his family: Caroline, whom he has been married to for 16 years. Jack, 7, who loves paper aeroplanes and Poppy, his princess, who is 3.
Then Zac, who has reached the top of Double Trouble, sees Jason stuck and thrashing midway up Bastard’s Crawl.
“Andrew! Jason’s in trouble!” he shouts, his voice somehow carrying over the thunder of the water.
Then Jason sees Andrew at the bottom of the crawl, calm and steady, gesturing with his gloved hands.
“Solid hands, Jase. Keep your hands to the side. Head up,” Andrew calls out. “You’re not stuck. Keep on coming, dude. Keep on breathing. Hands out. Stay up.”
Jason’s gloved hands emerge from the water, flailing, then his wet face framed by his helmet. He is gasping for air.
“Towards me,” Andrew continues. “Good hands. Come on. Hands out. Keep breathing. Come towards me. Come this way, feet towards me, head up. Head up. ... Come on, Jase, keep breathing.” Finally Jason makes it to where Andrew waits for him.
“It’s scary but you made it. Let’s chill out for a second, okay?” But not much later, Andrew encourages Jason to start going again. “Now, I need you to start moving.” “In a second. My leg’s caught.” Jason doesn’t recognise his own voice because it comes out so slurred and slow. Like I’ve had a stroke. He tries to
dislodge his boot, wedged into a gap between two rocks. It won’t budge. Am I going to drown? “It’s all right, dude,” Andrew says, reaching into the rushing water and fishing around for the stuck boot. He grasps something solid. “That’s your foot?” “Yeah.” “We’re going to do this together. You need good hands. Don’t let this water take you.”
It takes about 20 minutes to free Jason and get him moving. With Andrew’s coaching, Jason emerges from Bastard’s Crawl like a baby being birthed, wet through, eyes shut tight and gasping.
“You’re OK,” Andrew says, grasping his shoulders and settling him on a narrow ledge near where Zac is waiting. “Zac, stay with Jason while I go get some meals, the blanket and the first-aid kit from the supply bags up ahead. And I have to fill Matt and Arthur in on what’s happened.”
It takes him about 15 minutes. On his return, he tells Zac the water is still rising, so now is the time to leave.
“Matt and Arthur are waiting for you just beyond Bastard’s Crawl,” he says. “I have to get Jason warmed up before we try to get out. If all goes well, we’ll be right behind you. But if we don’t catch up to you in 30 minutes, notify Search and Rescue.”
UNSPOKEN IS Andrew’s fear that Jason is turning hypothermic. He is conscious, but so cold he has stopped shivering. He wraps his friend in the blanket and fires up the Jetboil, deciding to warm Jason by pouring heated water down his clothes. Once, twice, three times, then four, slow and sure. Doing it this way is preferable to preparing a hot drink, which Andrew fears would not work as fast. Come on, Jason! And: Catch up in 30 minutes? What was I thinking?
Out loud, he says: “Jase, you’re going to be fine.”
Jason’s colour starts returning to normal.
“Welcome back, buddy. Do you feel ready to get out of here?”
Andrew is feeling the pressure – and lots of guilt. Because he is the expert, the one who has always promised Jason’s wife that her husband would be safe. He had figured the trip today was going to be straightforward. But now, they have more than an hour’s slog back to the entrance, and with Jason soaked through, exhausted and depleted, he fears it will take even longer. They need to leave now. Jason takes a deep breath, readying himself to tackle Bastard’s Crawl again. They collect the bags, the stove and the blanket, and they start to climb, continually fighting the thundering water – or it’s fighting them, crushing them, pushing them back.
Jason has barely begun to climb when he has to scramble onto a ledge. There is too much water, and he was too weak.
There are barely ten centimetres of air left between the water and the ceiling, not enough for them to keep their heads up to breathe. Until it recedes, they’re stuck.
Looking around for some shelter, Jason spots a ledge above the one he is on; although the wall is at an awkward 45-degree angle, there is room enough for them both. Andrew, in the half wetsuit that comes to his waist, perches in front of Jason so that he takes the brunt of the spray, his legs uncomfortably braced against a ledge on the other side of the waterfall. It is 6pm. It has been three hours since Zac left them.
There is no room on the ledge for blame or second-guessing. This is about survival. They settle in with ropes and share the blanket. There is no fuel left in the stove, because Andrew used it all to heat the water to warm Jason.
Andrew tries a joke: “If we don’t get out of here, our wives will kill us!”
The water keeps rising, almost to the ledge, and the sheer force and fury of it cause a wind to come up. With nowhere to go, it whistles and keens. The two men huddle even closer together, trying to find shelter from the storm.
ZAC MAKES IT to the top of Bastard’s Crawl at 3.15pm to find Matt and Arthur waiting for him; the trio wait another hour for Jason and Andrew but there is nothing. Finally,
There is no room on the ledge for blame or second-guessing. It is about survival
they make their way to the ladder, emerging from the cave at 5.20pm, exhausted and wet where Adam, worried, is waiting. It is still raining. As Matt drives down the trail to find a spot where his phone will work, the other three rotate between the cave entrance and keeping warm in Andrew’s van. Waiting. Watching. Hoping for their friends to emerge.
At 7.15pm, they hear Matt’s SUV coming back up the trail.
“Ground, and Cave Search and Res- cue is on the way,” Matt says. “They’ll be here as quickly as possible.”
At 9pm, both teams arrive. The ground rescue crew from the Alberni Valley is there to provide support, setting up lights and a makeshift camp with paramedics on standby.
The initial cave rescue team is made up of four of their own – cavers who live on Vancouver Island, including married couple John Lay and Charlene Forrest. Driving up, they worry that it’s a recovery operation. But when they learn that one of the trapped cavers is Andrew, they know the two men have the best shot at surviving.
When they arrive, the first task is setting up a system of ropes and pulleys called a Z-drag to haul the trapped cavers out; they may be injured or too tired and depleted to attempt climbing the ladder. Or they may be dead.
At 10.30pm, John and Charlene descend into the cave with emergency supplies, including thermoses of hot chocolate and coffee. “Andrew!” they call. “Jason?” There is no response. Slowly, they make their way through the mud, rocks and boulders that lead to Bastard’s Crawl but they’re finally stopped by the water, which continues to gush in the opening unabated. The wind makes it difficult to hear themselves, never mind people who are stuck on the other side.
They leave the supplies and some lights, then turn around to make their way back. Nearly three agonising hours after they first went down, they exit the cave. It is 1.20am.
Arthur, Matt, Zac and Adam are determined to stay. The rescuers hold onto the thought that it is not a recovery but a rescue. That becomes the group’s prayer, recited throughout the night as they keep watch, drink coffee and try to stay warm. Andrew will get Jason out. He has to.
But please, please let the rain stop.
Rescuers make their way through mud, rocks and boulders until they are stopped by the water
BACK IN THE CAVE, Andrew and Jason sit, each wrapped in his own thoughts and the thermal blanket. Conserving the batteries in their headlamps, they sit in the dark, which makes them forget what a tight space they are in. With black all around, it’s easy to imagine they are somewhere else. At home with their kids. Or in a theatre.
Jason, his damp sweater pulled up over his face to give him some warmth, draws on his theatrical training, forcing his breathing to slow down. And in the dark, as clear as day, he sees his son standing at the side of his bed in his pyjamas with the red collar and aeroplane pattern. What will life be like for his family without him? How much life insurance coverage does he have?
Breathe! Please, Mum, Dad, God, whoever is out there, help guide me through this. Help me live.
Andrew silently recites a mantra that has helped him through scary times before. It’s based on a passage from Dune, the 1965 science fiction novel by Frank Herbert, and it goes like this: Fear is the mind killer. When the fear is gone, I will win.
There is no sign of rescuers. Did the other three even make it out? Maybe they’re lying on the other side of Bastard’s Crawl, blocked by water and injured. Or dead.
The hours pass. Beyond cold, they don’t dare to move for fear of slipping. They doze off, then jerk themselves awake, and they check in with each other every 20 minutes or so, short sentences to conserve their energy. “You still with me?” Andrew asks. “Yup. You still good?” “Yup.” The wind continues to shriek. Every once in a while, one of them turns on his headlamp to scan the water level in the crawl and passage. Around 5am, bleary-eyed, they notice that it seems to be receding.
“Let’s wait for a bit and see,” Andrew says.
The minutes tick by. Will the water go down? After an hour, it has gone down to the point that they can keep their heads above it and try an escape. Stiff from sitting in one position for about 12 hours, they unfold their bodies bit by bit, surprised at how well they’ve weathered the ordeal. Then, Jason tries to lift a leg and screams from the pain. A muscle in his groin is badly strained – but it can’t stop him. I have to get out. I have to try. Going up on all fours through Bastard’s Crawl, each time Jason moves a leg, he cries out in pain.
Andrew says: “You can do this.”
UP TOP, the rain has finally subsided. It is 6am and the sky is still dark as three cave rescuers, including Charlene and John, prepare to go in again. More cavers – a back-up rescue crew – have arrived.
Meanwhile, Andrew and Jason
have been moving for about 90 minutes as they make their way to the entrance, once in water that comes up past their chests. Now, in a passage that is high enough for them to walk upright, Jason, who is a bit ahead, sees something flicker in the distance.
“There are lights, Andrew! I see lights!” Part of him wants to be calm but the other part is too excited.
Jason ploughs ahead, exhausted, sensing an end to the ordeal. Soon, they hear voices. “Hey,” they call. “We’re here!” It is 7.30am. The rescuers, back in the cave to check the water level, can’t believe what they’re hearing. “Andrew? Jason?” Charlene calls. “It’s us! Get us out!” they shout. For the first time since he nearly drowned 16 hours earlier, as he is attached to the pulley and pulled up towards the entrance by rope, Jason’s eyes fill with tears.
“We made it.”