When deciding to post this story, I could not come up with a title other than a reckless adventure, which after much consideration seems quite appropriate.
A Reckless Adventure
Several yards northwest of Jones Crossing on the Niangua River stands a massive bluff well above the floodplain of the river. The bluff faces roughly south where in a portion of it is one of the largest and deepest caves in the area. I will not reveal the cave’s name. A large field lays along the river a little southwest of the bluff and was used by the Prehistory Indians as a camp site and at one time artifact of these ancient people were abundant along with burial sites and deep remnants of lodges.
The cave has for over a hundred years been a favorite place for people to gather and in the early days of legend and folktales tell of outlaws hiding out and moon shiners making and selling white lightening within the spacious front cavern. The enormous entrance is now cluttered with years of trash extending well below the surface of the floor. Beer cans and bottles, assorted soda containers, broken shovels, tinfoil, decomposed condoms, spent rifle and shotgun shells and quite possibly hundreds of plastic forks, spoons and cups are but a part of the litter left behind by thoughtless people.
Deep holes and associated mounds are evident in the dirt floor from many years of digging and all but remnants of prehistory artifact is now nonexistent. Sometime around the turn of the twentieth century, approximately 1920 much of the artifact was removed and included burial sites within the cave. The stories I have heard are conflicting. Some say it was a sanctioned dig, but others have told me it was pot hunters who ravaged the cave entrance. I cannot prove or disprove any of the tales. Perhaps a thousand years from now people that are interested in Nineteen and Twentieth century cultures will come to dig once again.
A steep incline must be ascended to access the spacious front cavern of the cave. The opening is protected by a massive overhang and portions of it have collapsed over the years. The opening to the cave is approximately forty to fifty feet in height and about sixty to seventy feet wide and deep. The shelter would have been ideal for multifamily or small clan occupation. The walls of the front cavern are honeycombed with cracks, crevices and deep ledges, a haven for birds, small mammals, bats, wasps and spiders. I can remember a clear running stream of water flowing from deep within the cave along the west wall.
Three major passageways lead off from the rear of the front cavern and all but one go very deep into the bluff. One passage veers off to the left, merging into a channel where sweet clear water used to run. Up until 1960 at least, the stream was teeming with life. The stream bed was rather wide and about knee deep and was abundant with salamanders, Cray fish, fish and frogs and many of theses creatures were nearly transparent. The stream bed gradually ascended upward deep into the bluff and ended too close to the surface where I am certain a sink hole fed the stream. Years later I made one last journey up the stream bead and found the ceiling had collapsed. I managed to squeeze round the huge mound of rock and soil debris to a point where I could see tree roots protruding through the ceiling. I wasted no time evacuating the area, a very dangerous place to say the least. The source of water had been effectively shut off and only a muddy stream bed remained. The distance from the front cavern to the cave-in was approximately a quarter of a mile. Gone were the many forms of life I had noted years before and in their place was rubbish left behind by again thoughtless people.
The center passage takes a direct course straight into a very large cavern with a very high ceiling where water falls from high above. Along the outer perimeter of the dome shaped ceiling perhaps a thousand or more bats clung and were easily disturbed. Guano is quite deep around the pool of water on the floor. I call this space the Cathedral room and as far as I know magnificent stalagmites and stalactites are still there, high enough to have not been damaged, but unfortunately through out the rest of the cave many of these formation have been destroyed.
The right passage meanders for about fifty feet to a wall of stone that rises to a height at twelve feet where beyond I could see passages fading into the gloom above me. Water dripped from the high ceiling and red mud oozed over the wall to the floor below. Although above me in the semidarkness the passages did not appear to be an ideal and perhaps a dangerous place, I mentally began planning an exploration into the unknown.
Two years later in the spring of 1960 accompanied by Gene, a friend, we returned to the cave. We located a small dead cedar log about twelve feet in length and carried it inside and leaned it at an angle against the wall passage. Gene and I were equipped with hardhats, one carbide light, one kerosene lantern and two small backup flashlights and fifty feet of small rope. We also carried other miscellaneous articles. We began the climb up the wall at 10:00 a.m. with the intentions of returning in three hours. Our objective was to try and locate the water source that drained into the Cathedral room.
Several minutes later after successfully climbing the log we stood in ankle deep mud observing several passages, or I should say a maze of dark tunnels. Most were too small to enter and we chose the largest and then began a steep ascent upward.
It didn’t take long and we were covered from head to toe in mud, slipping and stumbling precariously regaining footholds on the treacherous slope. We slowly continued upward arriving at the entrance of the passageway in about thirty minutes. The tunnel appeared to be large enough to enter and just barely high enough to stoop over. The ascent continued although not nearly as steep as the first climb.
Gene and I entered the passage and sat down next to a wall to rest. Our hands were caked with mud and we cleaned them as best we could to take a few photos and smoke. Sitting there neither of us speaking, I played a beam of light into the far depth of the passage and could see several large stones scattered along the tunnel about sixty yards beyond, I saw what appeared to be the crest of the incline. Water dripped from the ceiling, enough to create a small stream flowing past us. It was obvious at least to me the water source was not all that far away.
After resting awhile we began exploration into the tunnel, a slow process that kept us slipping back down the slope. Not far from where we had rested, near a very large stone we came upon a hole in the center of the tunnel and below could see standing water. We had about two feet next to the north wall to traverse around the hole. With my back next to the wall I slowly made my way forward, digging my heels into the mud. It took me several minutes to clear the hole and I waved to Gene to come. He reluctantly did so and completed the process successfully, although upon arrival he voiced his concern and suggested we turn back. I refused to do so for curiosity of what lay ahead had taken the upper hand.
The immediate danger that now faced us was slipping down the tunnel to the hole, for the passage had steepened and not far a head a smaller hole confronted us and when we looked in could see no bottom. We were now on our hands and knees clawing at the mud, digging our feet deep into the red muck. By the time we reached the crest, regretfully two hours had past, jeopardizing our scheduled departure. We sat for time discussing the situation and decided to venture on for a time.
The passage had widened some and we began a short descent, however we could no longer stand stooped over and had to crawl on our hands and knees. Muddy water flowed freely down the slope. We were soon forced to sit down and slid on our butts, using our feet as brakes. The mud deepened and had formed small dams, creating rather deep pools of water. Progress down was very slow and unnerving. I believe approximately an hour had passed when we reached the end of the decline where we found a large vertical opening in the passage. The opening covered most of the floor area, offering only a narrow passage along a stone ledge at the north wall. I turned the beam of my flashlight into the cavity and at that moment was convinced we had found the source of water flowing into the Cathedral room. I could see about a hundred feet below to a large pool of water and detected the squeaks of bats.
Gene insisted we turn back, a very sensible decision, but as I played the light beam across the large crevice I could see the passage had entered the opening of a huge cavern. The opening appeared to be only a few hundred feet on up a steep incline eroded by flowing water. The urge or perhaps impulse to proceed on was strong and unyielding and I informed Gene I was going around the hole for a look inside the far cavern and he could wait for me if he wanted to. This did not set well with him but he nodded and said he would wait.
Curiosity or the desire to go beyond the next hill so to speak is not an oddity among humans for without that instinctive trait humankind would not have amounted to very much. But of course it can be foolish at times, deadly in some cases as I have learned over the years. Falls have been frequent, snake bites, attacks from wild animals have not diminished my desire to find out what lays ahead.
A few moments of rest and after cleaning my hands and shoes, I tied one end of the rope around my waste and taking the lighted kerosene lantern and one flashlight I cautiously stepped upon the ledge with my back to the wall. I dug my heels into the soft grit that covered the ledge and with the lantern in my left hand; I pushed ever so slowly with my right hand and began moving around the hole. Gene held the other end of the rope firmly. About midway around the hole, one of my feet slid forward and Gene pulled on the rope throwing me off balance. I let go of the lantern to try and get a hand hold, but too late and I fell. Strangely the lantern caught my eye and I seemed to hesitate in midair watching it hit some rocks below me and explode into a fiery ball, sending rivulets of fire cascading down the steep slope into the darkness below. I do not remember the first impact, but it knocked the breath out of me and I rolled down the jagged slope and up against a large stone where I lay gasping horribly for breath. I could faintly hear the frantic voice of Gene and feel him tugging on the rope. I manage to sit up and called out to him not to pull on the rope. My senses cleared somewhat and I found I lay near the burning lantern and for whatever rationality that comforted me. The entire situation was surreal, but soon reality slapped me in the face. I discovered my legs were a bit numb and also realized I had either broken or bruised a rib or two. I called out to Gene that I was alright, but needed to rest a bit. The beam of his flashlight glanced off the walls around me and helped considerably to clear my mind.
After about an hour or so I was told I crawled up the slope to another large stone and sat down. The numbness in my legs had significantly sunsided, but each movement I made brought considerable pain and I could hardly take a deep breath. I realized at the time getting back up to where Gene stood would be extremely difficult.
I decided it was time to try and get out of the hole and pushed the rope further up under my arms and gave the word to Gene to start pulling me up. I stood up and leaned forward and Gene pulled slowly on the rope. I staggered toward a small ledge and managed to get a handhold and held on. Pain slashed through me each time he pulled and I kept my protests as quiet as possible. About midway up I crawled upon a wide ledge and shouted for him to stop and let me rest. I was sweating profusely and my breathing was agonizingly painful. A few minutes later I motioned for him to continue and quickly found hand and foot holds that eased the burden on Gene. Finally after several minutes of near unbearable pain I slid over the rim of the chasm and lay wallowing in the red mud.
The descent to the main floor of the cave was a slow tortuous event and when at last we stood looking out of the cave entrance, found the sun nearing the horizon and evening shadows lurking along the river. I had thrown caution to the wind and paid the price with bruised ribs and abrasions. I have never returned to the second level in the cave, but I still wonder at times what I might have discovered if I hadn’t fallen into the hole.
The man that now owns the property where the cave is located has banned people from going there and that is a good thing. Perhaps the old cave will begin healing from all the abuse it has endured over the years, however some of the damage is irreparable and I also believe more cave-ins will occur, for erosion has been constant and will eventually change much of the interior. Man’s presence in this once pristine cave has destroyed its history, but as time passes its history will resume, for another culture will leave its mark. Adios
The Guardians of the Secret Garden and the Wee People who live there
I brought this home a couple of years ago.
Queen Ann
Queen Ann
