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Dale Parrot
continued
When I left home for VPI as a freshman, I also left all my spelunk-junk at home, figuring that big--time studies would leave zero time for caving. Boy was I ever wrong! As you may know I ended up majoring in caving with a minor in Pizza Hut, and a few selected courses in Engineering. Somehow, I survived and graduated per schedule; that extra fifth year on the Co-op program actually gave me more caving time, you see! Well, before classes had even started, I was walking across the drillfield explaining about Jumars to my roommate. A guy name George Neill overheard me and then proceeded to introduce himself as a caver. To make a long story short: that afternoon we were in a cave. I had whipped down to the bookstore, bought a sweat shirt; armed with a bag of flashlights, we went caving. I managed to borrow enough stuff, including boots, to cave that fall until my pleas of HELP!!! Were heard, and my bag of tricks arrived via my folks.
I thought I was hot stuff when I came to VPI, but I soon learned that VPI was where the caving action was. I really didn't know a thing, except what a cave smelled like. R.E. Whittemore soon took my hand and showed me how to act, eat and sleep like a caver. He also taught me that five--footed traverses were definitely out of style and that fanny--friction was akin to lovemaking and had no place in a cave.
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Jette Feduska, Dee Snell,
Jim Dawson,1966. Photo by D. C. Parrott. |
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I'm really proud of the way I approached the caving vertical world. I first used the standard double brake-bar rig and three 3/8--inch manila rope slings for prusiks. Seemingly, almost every afternoon after school, Dave Millsaps and I would go home with Bob Vocke who had a tall tree in his back yard. We had a standing line rigged, and we could practice going up and down on that rope for hours, using chest safeties. We practiced going out of control and letting the chest safety catch until it was reflex. I really believe that our no-rush, tree practice sessions has been the major reason why I've been able to escape from a few jams my friends or I have gotten into.
At the 1967 VAR spring project at Swago Creek, WV. I descended into Carpenter Pitto help set charcoal traps. The normally dry entrance pit had a waterfall going into it. We all had prusiks except for Chris White who had Jumars. He went out first; he insisted that knots (manila) would freeze up in the cold water so he sent his Jumars down for Dee Snell to use. She had experience with them, but was suffering from exposure and couldn't get started. So I decided to try them. I had never heard of them before, let alone know how they worked. At long last I reached the top; it was quite a struggle, I assure you. Dee was subsequently rescued; a happy ending to what could have been a disaster. Even though I had had a bad first experience with Jumars, I soon purchased a set and became proficient with them.
I will close this parable with brief comments on the two persons that have had the most influence on my caving experiences: (1) Lyle Conrad, who started me on the right track and who guided me in my beginnings as a cave photographer; and (2) R. E. Whittemore, who taught me that there is much more to caving than speleo--bopping and most importantly, that cave mapping is definitely fun, not work!
The lovable EasterPig, 1972 Photo by R. E. Whittemore. |
Easter Pig ...PENNED
Once I was on a surveying trip with Jim Hixson and Easter Pig in Windy Mouth Cave. We were moving through the cave toward Bear Track Passage at a fast pace and stopped for a break at the Zig Zag. To our surprise, Easter Pig was not behind us. I went back about 100 feet, but could not see his light. I listened, and heard a faint noise. There it was again: help help help help! "PIG!' I shouted. And again: HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! At this point the passage changed to a crawlway over cobbles, and I got down to check for Pig. To my astonishment, I was face to face with Easter Pig!
"PIg?" I questioned. He repeated in the same small voice: HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! HELP! My inspection of the situation found that Pig, in crawling over the cobbles, had encountered a rock which rolled over and over as he crawled and had lodged against his sternum. In wrestling with the rock in the low, narrow passage, he became thoroughly stuck and his lamp had gone out. He couldn't draw a deep enough breath to yell louder than... HELP!
With some clear thinking and a slight amount of struggle, Easter Pig was released from his prison and we continued on our way. --R.E. Whittemore
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