It was Friday, May 11th, around noon, and I was scrambling to get my gear together for a caving trip to the Xanadu Cave System. Xanadu is located in northern Tennessee in Fentress County, about 8 miles south of Jamestown off highway 127. (It's about 30 miles south of the Tennessee / Kentucky border.) I've been caving for only a few months now. I got involved through my two friends John Cole and Randy Paylor. Since I started crawling around underground with them, I've been to Butler Cave in Virginia, Sloan's Valley Cave System near Somerset, Kentucky, and have done some survey work in Blowing Cave in Wayne County, Kentucky. We had been trying to get back into Blowing Cave for a few weeks, but the recent heavy rainfall had kept us out, so when Randy said he was leading a trip into Xanadu with the Stonewall Cavers, I was excited to get back underground again! I threw my things together and met up with John Cole. He had some errands to run, so by the time we got on the road it was around 6 pm. John popped in his Billy Joel CD (Greatest Hits, volumes 1 & 2... yeah!) and we sang at the top of our lungs all the way there. We had to stop for groceries, and ended up having to shop at Wal-mart. We tolerated the place long enough to get all that we needed and went on our merry way.

We arrived at the East Fork Stables around 10:30. After driving around the campsite areas for a while, searching for our assigned lots, we finally found our campsites, which were hidden back in the deepest muddy depths of a wooded area. It's a good thing John's new truck is a four-wheel drive; otherwise, we would have been stuck for sure! So after driving around for twenty minutes looking for it, we finally arrived, finding the rest of our group already settled in around a small campfire. I saw Todd Merriman (from Georgia) again, whom I hadn't seen since Thanksgiving at Tom Crockett's place, and Josh Rubinstein and Scott Wahlquist, (from Virginia) whom I hadn't seen since our trip to Butler Cave last fall. Randy Paylor was there, too, with Mike, who had come down from Louisville. Randy and Mike retired to their tent early, but the rest of us stayed up and chatted for a while. Eventually we all climbed into our tents and crashed out.

We got up around 8 on Saturday morning and packed up our things, rearranging so that we only took what we deemed necessary for the next night. We drove down the road a short distance and parked at the Obey River Gorge, where they were doing some logging, which was not very pleasing to the eye. Trees that had been cut down were scattered all over the place surrounded by pools of stagnant water that had recently formed in the midst of the desolation. We got ourselves situated with our cumbersome packs and marched off down the muddy road.

We marched along until we got to a path that led to Hoodtown Overlook. We all dropped our packs and went over to the end of the path to look out over the gorge. The view was breathtaking. We took a quick group photo shot and went back to collect our gear. Then we started down the steep downhill portion, which was a rugged logging road, still sloppy from recent downpours. It seemed to go on forever!

At noon, Mike and I had just gotten to the bottom of the horrendous descent and seated ourselves when John's voice could be heard spewing expletives across the whole gorge. When he arrived at the bottom, it turned out his lighting gear had been damaged on the way down. He was not happy about it at all, and needed time to cool off.

First, everyone dropped their gear and hiked over to the Obey River shore to refresh themselves. When we returned from the water, Randy dug out his extra light equipment for John to use, Scott dug out his duct tape and borrowed my scissors to help John effect some repairs, while Todd went over to John and initiated some light conversation to keep his spirits up. Josh and Mike followed Randy to go see the Zoroaster Entrance, and they returned shortly to report that it was sumped shut.

From there we hiked to the main entrance and set up camp. It was right in front of a beautiful waterfall that fed a shallow pool. Randy said that it had been named "Alph," in reference to the river mentioned in the poem "Kubla Khan" written by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, from which the cave system Xanadu also gets its name. Unfortunately, there were a bunch of stinging nettles all over that area and several guys were complaining of itching, burning calves. I propped myself up on a mossy rock and proceeded to gobble down some lunch. John joined me, and then we both prepped ourselves for the cave, with all our gear, our multiple sources of light, and our cave suits. Josh and Scott came over just as we were ready, and Todd arrived only minutes later. Mike and Randy still both needed to eat, though, so we waited around for them to finish munching (most of us napped... the climb down was tiring and the sound of the waterfall was soothing), then merrily proceeded to the entrance of the cave. There was another small foamy pool below us there, and the footing was a little treacherous, so we had to be careful. It was gated, and Randy produced the key and let us all in. We entered the cave around 2:30.

The entrance was crowded with wet, mildly muddy rocks scattered around from a collapse, but after a serpentine canyon passage with clear water flowing below it (we traversed it by walking along the ledges on either side of the water and pressing our hands against the walls), it opened up into a wide open walkway. We marched forward, seeing nothing particularly spectacular but simple rocks and gray walls.

This area had a lot of wildlife in it. The narrow canyon passage was filled with cave crickets, and a couple of large cave spiders. I saw at least two blind crayfish in the water. The open walkways had several bats hanging on the walls and ceiling. I looked at one bat, and the brightness of my light must have awakened it. It shook its little head nervously and squinted its beady little eyes at me and looked generally displeased. I walked back the way I had come, and mentioned it to John, but by the time we returned it was gone, having flown off in search of some other place in the cave where annoying humans wouldn't bathe it in blinding light. We also saw crinoid stems and a shark bone in the ceiling of the initial walking passage. Randy told us that we were examining fossiliferous Mississippian Limestone.

We took a phreatic tube off the main passage (a stoop walk), then we passed through another large portal, and everything changed. The walls were covered with large, black, rolling formations! This was the Sand Hill Passage. There was one particular vein in the wall of gypsum, punctuated by gypsum flowers. We continued on... and encountered the first of the thirteen sand hills. We climbed up, up, and up, until we could look down and shudder, thinking of what could happen if one of us should fall, then we would cross the top of the hill, and begin the slow, careful descent on the other side. As we traversed the hills, I often found it easiest to just sit on my butt and slide down through the sand and mud, using rocks for handholds to slow my descent. In some areas of this passage it was easily 200 feet from floor to ceiling.

Every once in a while, the hills would be separated by large breakdown areas, where we would have to carefully pick our way across vast seas of fallen rock. Many of the rocks weren't entirely stable, and could shift under our feet as we stepped on them. Then we'd have to travel back up, again... and then down... and then up... again! We had barely gotten past our first hill when Scott had already started exclaiming, "We're almost there!"

Along about the third hill, we encountered a breakdown area with a single path through it. The path was very clear, and someone had used a small flame to burn some letters onto a rock as a sign. It read, "Angel Hair Area." That meant we had to be extremely careful, and only walk on the obvious path. As we crossed through it, I saw why: the humidity of the room created very tiny deposits of gypsum that form as little transparent "hairs" that sparkle in the light. The formations apparently grow until they reach about four inches or more in length, when they are most spectacular, then they break down and start all over. At this point, some of them were about three inches or so, so it looked beautiful!

Five hills later, after a couple of rests, (and a couple more exclamations of "we're almost there!" from Scott) we came upon an area where the slope had eroded so much we had to climb it with a rope. There was already one rigged, and it was still very sturdy, so John used it to climb to the top. Todd spotted me and I did my first rope climbing. The trick is to lean way back and walk on the wall with your feet. I couldn't seem to get out of "vertical" climbing mode, and kept my body too close to the side of the wall. I managed to get up to the top, but I wasn't very graceful. It'll take some practice for me. Randy had brought a second hand line, so John and Scott set it up so that some of the others could be belayed.

As we proceeded through the rest of the hills, Scott and Todd attempted to entertain us by singing Olivia Newton-John tunes. John concluded that they must have been suffering from lack of oxygen.

Finally, we made it past the thirteen hills, and proceeded to the Jewel Box. This is an area where water has dripped down along the cracks in the rock, creating stalagmites and stalactites and full columns. It's all up on a shelf area, far above the cave floor, and the way the formations all follow a line makes the shelf resemble an enclosed balcony. We took some photos up there, and then discovered that the formations have some phosphorescent properties: when you use a flash bulb near them, then flip your lights off, they glow for a few seconds. So we played with that for a while and took some more group shots before moving along. I opened a small canister I found at the back of the shelf and signed the register for the whole group.

Next we encountered a treacherous area, transected by a serpentine, 45-foot canyon. It required us to traverse a small ledge of damp mud, only about 5 feet wide, that sloped down toward the canyon. We opted to crawl so that we would have a maximum amount of friction to keep ourselves from sliding off the side. After the ledge rounded a corner, it got worse, as the slope increased. This required us to lean our bodies over against the sloping wall, and press away from the ledge with our left legs as we went. The edge of the ledge was covered with loose rocks, and our scuffling sent pebbles and such spilling off into the abyss, so we could hear the debris as it tumbled into the depths. That didn't make the experience seem any safer at all! About 20 feet later, we came to a safe area to stand again. Josh wasn't too comfortable with it, so he decided to stay behind. From there we had to cross a deep fissure, but the jump was only about 2 feet wide, so it was nothing but a mind game. Then, about 5 feet ahead, came our next challenge: we had to belly crawl across a narrow finger of rock, with an 80 to 100 foot drop on either side. Randy went first and coached others through. Once again, Scott reminded us, "We're almost there!"

Our next stop was intended to be Fort Sanders, and we plugged along, with John leading, looking for it. At this point, John and Randy both admitted that it gets confusing. The pathways are mazelike, and it's easy to make a wrong turn. John apparently made one, (oops!) and we ended up in a low crawl through a tiny maze system. Randy knew we had taken a wrong turn, since the entire route we were intending to take was supposed to be crawl-free. So we made it to another walking area and stopped when we realized we were looking out off a ledge into the large room we had just been in! We were too high up to enter the room proper, but we could see into it. Randy had us all stop while he went off to find the way. This is what Randy's good at: if you ever get turned around, just stop and let him scurry about. He's like a little hobbit ... we could hear his little legs scurry, see his head lamp bob about, then nothing... he was gone. Moments later, his lamp appeared several feet away, where he popped his head out of a hole. We could hear him mumble to himself, something like, "hmmm that's not it" then he disappeared again, only to pop his head out of a hole on the other end of the cavern moments later. Remember the little Nowhere Man in the Beatles cartoon "Yellow Submarine?" Kind of like that. Eventually Randy appeared again and easily had us on track. Within minutes of his return, we were where we had intended to be.

We sat in the middle of the Ft. Sanders area and ate some munchies from our packs. In the meantime, Randy disappeared again. Eventually he returned, having failed in his attempt to find the entrance that he and John suspect must be near there somewhere. He did bring back some leaves and sprouts, though. He held them forth in his hand, and said, "Hey, guys, look! This is how close we are to the surface!" Scott snorted, "If you really wanted to prove it, Randy, you should have come back leading a cow or something!" We all cackled, which just shows how totally wiped out we were. Due to general exhaustion, we decided not to continue onward to Cumberland Avenue. Apparently, it's supposed to be an even more impressive area, terminating in beautiful formations to rival the Jewel Box. Randy later said that he reached the beginning of it while he was off exploring. Nearby is the Zoroaster River Entrance, which is where a spring is, but that's the one Randy had us check before we entered, and it was sumped shut. So we turned around and went back the way we came. We had only been traveling about ten minutes before Scott encouraged us again by crying, "We're almost there!"

We picked up Josh on the way, and used the ropes at the eighth hill to body rappell back down. Listening to some of Scott's sunny banter as I proceeded down, I was reminded of those old scenes of Batman and Robin when they would scale the sides of buildings and have corny conversations with people as they passed by their windows. I did a little better this time, but I still didn't lean back enough, and bashed my knee badly near the bottom. Clearly, I need to practice.

The way back was exhausting. Randy was leading on the way back, and I was at the back of the group with John and Scott and Josh. The conversation was great, because the three of them are so fun, but I'm never fond of being near the rear of a procession. We suffered from the standard "caboose syndrome:" the instant we caught up to those in front, they advanced immediately in their eagerness to get back to camp, allowing no time for those of us at the back to rest. So we took ten of the thirteen hills with little rest. This was pushing me to my limit; I was burning up. Even in the cool, humid cave, steam was rolling off my body, and my glasses were fogged up so that I couldn't see anything. Scott was acting as my seeing-eye dog, making sure I didn't fall. We all paused for a while, long enough for John and Josh and me to really get a rest. Scott made a point to tell us, yet again... "We're almost there!"

We finally exited the cave around 10:30 pm. It was so humid near the entrance that my glasses completely covered over with a film of condensation, and I had to continue without them. Again, Scott acted as the guide for the blind man, and made sure that I wouldn't finally get out of the cave only to plummet off to the left into a frothy pool of death. I stumbled to my tent, dropped to the ground, dug out an apple, ate it, stripped off my clothes and collapsed into my sleeping bag. Everyone else gathered at their various tents and cooked themselves some food, and Josh, Scott, and Todd all said they came by our tent to eat dinner with John and me, but we were both out cold. I guess John collapsed right after I did. All I knew for sure was that eating required energy, and I didn't have any. The sound of the waterfall made me fade off to sleep instantly.

The next morning, John and I got up around 8, ate breakfast (bagels with Berry Peanut Butter... breakfast of champions!) and with Josh and Scott, we marched off around 9:30. As we made our slow, arduous way up the horrendous hill, we encountered a local redneck twice as he explored the area with his four-wheeler. He told us some interesting stories in the deepest Tennessee Hick dialect, spitting out chaw in between sentences, (which was so endearing!) then went on his merry way. When we were nearly at the top, we saw him the second time, and he informed us that the "other three dudes" (that would be Randy, Todd, and Mike) were just starting up the bottom of the hill. We finally reached the vehicles around 1:00 pm, then after changing clothes (and finally feeling human again!) we all agreed we were starving! Josh and Scott wanted to take a different route back home to Virginia than they had taken getting there, and that route was going to take them through Rugby. John decided to let them follow him and after a brief, unsuccessful attempt at finding something to eat in Jamestown, we drove over to historic old Rugby and dined at the cafe there.

Rugby is Randy's hometown. It was the last English Colony in America. They have very strict building codes, and only architecture that is authentic to the old time period is allowed. There are no fast food places or Wal-marts or anything of that nature. It's all preserved beautifully. There is a guidebook there in the cafe, and we looked through it. Randy's home is one of many featured in it. Every home featured in the book has a name, and Randy's is no exception.... his home's name is Roslyn. While we were eating, Randy's stepfather, John Gilliat, stopped and said hello to us and invited us over to visit after our meal.