Closing in on midnight, dirty, tired, and cold, I emerged from a cave in a dense forest on the outskirts of Brno, Czech Republic, to two police officers, their flashlights igniting the surrounding fog and becoming the brightest thing I had seen in hours since entering. An emergency call had just gone out, I was missing.
Backing the story up a couple of weeks, I had arrived in Slovakia with big plans to explore the most challenging, narrowest, and darkest caves in the country. Unbeknown to me at the time, but caves were littered across the region. At first, the only challenging part was actually finding the poorly marked entrance (and expensive ticket booth), the only narrow part was fitting through the touristic ticket turnstiles, and the only dark part was when the loose fitting hard hat that accompanied the tour slid down on my face.
OK, perhaps I'm being to harsh, but I was looking for something with a little more adrenaline, a place where I would be contemplating where my next step would be, and not speculating what the Slovaki speaking tour guide was actually saying. Bear bones, bat bones, ice caves, underground rivers and massive stalagmites and stalactites were cool, but it oddly got old fast.
Leaving the mountains with a lackluster satisfaction of my caving experience, I was literally drawn back hundreds of kilometers by one of my CouchSurfer hosts, Lukás. He works for a national newspaper in the Slovaki capital of Bratislava, but more importantly, had an old job touring caves in the Low Tatras Mountains.
Dead Bat Cave, my first real caving experience, was getting back to the basics, yet far from simplistic. An hour plus climb to the entrance, no artificial lighting along the narrow wet passages, and the need for strength, confidence, and an indifference towards claustrophobia. There was a guide of course, or else getting lost in the maze like cave was a strong possibility considering not only the twists and turns, but climbs up rock walls and crossings over deep dark abysses.
Truly satisfied, until a week later it was taken up a notch when another CouchSurfer, Ladislav, invited me to the truest form of recreational caving, going with no guide. Towering over the city of Brno as the sun began to set, the warm air and whatever light was still left quickly vanished upon entering the first of three caves.
Taking the lead, the entrance to the cave was mostly obstructed by a short concrete wall, preventing me from seeing further ahead. My next foot forward was met with a jolting jump as a bat quickly emerged from a small hole, just like any horror movie or video game, the silhouette shape of its wide wingspan permanently ingrained in my memory.
The first cave didn't go very far, completely navigable by foot, and only lead to a few rooms. A couple of these caves were apparently used as underground factories by the Nazis during the war to shelter from air raids.
The second cave was much larger, but blocking another portion of the underground network was a bunker cemented into the walls of the cave. Towards the top a foot wide crack had been dug into the rock, leaving an arched gap between the rock and bunker. Armed solely with a few dim flashlights, I slowly began to move myself into an uncomfortable and dangerous position. The rock was inches from my face, as I attempted to push force against the rock as my back arched as though in mid position of a back flip. The gravel dug into my hands and elbows as I slowly pushed myself higher. Once firmly resting on the top of the bunker, all limbs touching the wet rocks, I inched forward. With barely enough room for a wiener dog to rest on all fours, the thought of only one way out, where I had come from, was a little nerve-wracking.
To move the story along drastically quicker than I was moving, the other side opened up to a huge cave system similar to where we began. Light metal debris remained scattered everywhere, and thoughts of the horror movie The Descent had to be kept at bay, as the only way out was one that required patience and time. Thoughts of how long any sort of search and rescue would take in the event we became trapped was chilling.
By the third cave, I was already sufficiently dirty and unaware of how narrow, yet vast this next network was. Each passageway needed to be navigated as though I was crawling under a car, as we only got further and further from the entrance. Certain points required to be climbed to reach higher levels, while other areas opened up to a pile of giant boulders that had seemingly collapsed from the roof above. A barrel roll became the quickest way to travel down one narrow slope, yet taking it too far and I'd plunge down an edge a few meters deep.
What was next was surprising, considering how far and difficult it was to get to this point. What we had come across was a self serve bar. Small mats and a cold case of beer sat there in front of me, brought in and replaced by a couple cave enthusiasts. It was difficult to truly relax with a beer, as my body temperature began to drop and a labyrinth stood between me and the night sky. Payments for the beer was accepted via e-transfer, sent of course after surfacing, as there was no reception buried under rock.
The lack of reception also started to fuel the worry of my CouchSurfer host Martin, the roommate of Ladislav. Unaware of the arrangements of contacting Martin at 10:00, a time that we planned on returning to the city at, there was no sense of rush to exit.
Regardless, by the time we made it to the entrance, and continuing off where this story began, Martin had been desperately trying to get ahold of us. Unable to and worried for our safety, he called the police to search for us. I was clueless to the whole situation as the conversation with the police took place in Czech, surrounded by the foggy forest. I felt the relief of being able to stand on two feet and the noticeably warmer air on my skin.
Once understanding the trouble we had caused, it also came to my attention that the last tram had already left for the night. As we made the long walk back into the city along the darkly lit railway tracks, an orange moon rising above the fog at midnight, I felt that there wasn't any room left for my curiosity to wonder as to how I could top it.
Backing the story up a couple of weeks, I had arrived in Slovakia with big plans to explore the most challenging, narrowest, and darkest caves in the country. Unbeknown to me at the time, but caves were littered across the region. At first, the only challenging part was actually finding the poorly marked entrance (and expensive ticket booth), the only narrow part was fitting through the touristic ticket turnstiles, and the only dark part was when the loose fitting hard hat that accompanied the tour slid down on my face.
OK, perhaps I'm being to harsh, but I was looking for something with a little more adrenaline, a place where I would be contemplating where my next step would be, and not speculating what the Slovaki speaking tour guide was actually saying. Bear bones, bat bones, ice caves, underground rivers and massive stalagmites and stalactites were cool, but it oddly got old fast.
Leaving the mountains with a lackluster satisfaction of my caving experience, I was literally drawn back hundreds of kilometers by one of my CouchSurfer hosts, Lukás. He works for a national newspaper in the Slovaki capital of Bratislava, but more importantly, had an old job touring caves in the Low Tatras Mountains.
Dead Bat Cave, my first real caving experience, was getting back to the basics, yet far from simplistic. An hour plus climb to the entrance, no artificial lighting along the narrow wet passages, and the need for strength, confidence, and an indifference towards claustrophobia. There was a guide of course, or else getting lost in the maze like cave was a strong possibility considering not only the twists and turns, but climbs up rock walls and crossings over deep dark abysses.
Truly satisfied, until a week later it was taken up a notch when another CouchSurfer, Ladislav, invited me to the truest form of recreational caving, going with no guide. Towering over the city of Brno as the sun began to set, the warm air and whatever light was still left quickly vanished upon entering the first of three caves.
Taking the lead, the entrance to the cave was mostly obstructed by a short concrete wall, preventing me from seeing further ahead. My next foot forward was met with a jolting jump as a bat quickly emerged from a small hole, just like any horror movie or video game, the silhouette shape of its wide wingspan permanently ingrained in my memory.
The first cave didn't go very far, completely navigable by foot, and only lead to a few rooms. A couple of these caves were apparently used as underground factories by the Nazis during the war to shelter from air raids.
The second cave was much larger, but blocking another portion of the underground network was a bunker cemented into the walls of the cave. Towards the top a foot wide crack had been dug into the rock, leaving an arched gap between the rock and bunker. Armed solely with a few dim flashlights, I slowly began to move myself into an uncomfortable and dangerous position. The rock was inches from my face, as I attempted to push force against the rock as my back arched as though in mid position of a back flip. The gravel dug into my hands and elbows as I slowly pushed myself higher. Once firmly resting on the top of the bunker, all limbs touching the wet rocks, I inched forward. With barely enough room for a wiener dog to rest on all fours, the thought of only one way out, where I had come from, was a little nerve-wracking.
To move the story along drastically quicker than I was moving, the other side opened up to a huge cave system similar to where we began. Light metal debris remained scattered everywhere, and thoughts of the horror movie The Descent had to be kept at bay, as the only way out was one that required patience and time. Thoughts of how long any sort of search and rescue would take in the event we became trapped was chilling.
By the third cave, I was already sufficiently dirty and unaware of how narrow, yet vast this next network was. Each passageway needed to be navigated as though I was crawling under a car, as we only got further and further from the entrance. Certain points required to be climbed to reach higher levels, while other areas opened up to a pile of giant boulders that had seemingly collapsed from the roof above. A barrel roll became the quickest way to travel down one narrow slope, yet taking it too far and I'd plunge down an edge a few meters deep.
What was next was surprising, considering how far and difficult it was to get to this point. What we had come across was a self serve bar. Small mats and a cold case of beer sat there in front of me, brought in and replaced by a couple cave enthusiasts. It was difficult to truly relax with a beer, as my body temperature began to drop and a labyrinth stood between me and the night sky. Payments for the beer was accepted via e-transfer, sent of course after surfacing, as there was no reception buried under rock.
The lack of reception also started to fuel the worry of my CouchSurfer host Martin, the roommate of Ladislav. Unaware of the arrangements of contacting Martin at 10:00, a time that we planned on returning to the city at, there was no sense of rush to exit.
Regardless, by the time we made it to the entrance, and continuing off where this story began, Martin had been desperately trying to get ahold of us. Unable to and worried for our safety, he called the police to search for us. I was clueless to the whole situation as the conversation with the police took place in Czech, surrounded by the foggy forest. I felt the relief of being able to stand on two feet and the noticeably warmer air on my skin.
Once understanding the trouble we had caused, it also came to my attention that the last tram had already left for the night. As we made the long walk back into the city along the darkly lit railway tracks, an orange moon rising above the fog at midnight, I felt that there wasn't any room left for my curiosity to wonder as to how I could top it.