When John Gunn has a trip planned, the correct response is always “yes.” No further questions required.
After two weeks off waiting for my sheep to lamb—who, it turns out, are not remotely interested in my schedule—I finally gave up pretending I was in control of anything and signed up for a trip I’ve wanted to do for ages. I’ve been close before, but never quite managed to get my head under that steady torrent of water. This time, though, John had the key. Literally.
John G, John, Chris, Jess, Robert and I met in the layby and shuffled down the lane to get changed, as is tradition. Wetsuits were wrestled on and we followed John to the water.
I had been expecting it to be deep. According to John, the water level was “down,” which turned out to mean chest-deep instead of very chest-deep. So off we went, beginning the uphill walk in deep water. It was easy to navigate until the floor become uneven with boulders and drop zones that a few of us fell into.
As we progressed, the sough kept changing character—making it feel like a completely different place. After about a mile (give or take, time being a bit theoretical when you’re wading uphill in cold water), we gradually climbed out. And honestly, it was worth every soggy step.
Reaching the chamber was genuinely special. We took time to admire the incredible formations left behind by the miners—equal parts history and accidental art. John and Robert took some great photos. I, bravely, took none, having decided beforehand that I didn’t trust my lack of waterproofing. I regretted this immediately and continuously.
Once we’d finished poking, prodding and generally appreciating the chamber, we followed the mine tracks deeper in—past the mine cart and towards the collapse. It was one of those trips where you’re constantly torn between wanting to move on and wanting to just stand there and take it all in.
We eventually met John again at the resurgence, where he was fully in “science mode”—taking water samples and explaining how they vary through different parts of the mine. It was part fieldwork, part impromptu lecture, and all very interesting (even if I was mostly thinking about how cold I was getting).
The journey out was, thankfully, much quicker. Heading downhill with the current behind us made for a surprisingly speedy exit. At several points it felt less like walking and more like being politely escorted out by the water. Inflatable tubes would have been an excellent—if slightly chaotic—addition.
All in all, a long, cold, brilliant trip. The kind that reminds you exactly why you said yes in the first place.
Then, of course, came the true final challenge: peeling off wetsuits before heading home.