|
 Text by Bob Manas
We set out on our expedition on the 26th day of January 2000. It was around 6:30 am when the three of us arrived at a sleepy village, alongside a rocky river, nestled between the steep hills of Montalban. This was rock-climbing country and a center for sport climbers from the city. Bonifacio's Cave was located on a 500-ft. slope along a mountainside across a gushing river that was dotted by huge boulders. Wearing our wetsuits, we swam across the cold river currents and hiked up the 500 ft. slope hauling two 40cuft. tanks, a crate of scuba gear, ropes, climbing equipment and cameras to document this insane endeavor. We finally reached the cave's mouth but found the entrance barred by a locked steel gate! Fortunately, we were able to slide ourselves and our gears through.
The lights from our helmets illuminated the way through winding tunnels and chambers, different rock formations with variances in color and texture. We passed a tunnel whose walls formed a triangular shape, much like passages of a pyramid. We must have walked a good 300 meters inside the cave before we stopped at what looked like a fork in the tunnel. Veering to the right, a huge hole appeared and seemed to drop into nowhere. Frank rappelled down 60 ft. and landed in a pool of water. All the other gear followed him. Serge had his baptism – rappelling down a wet and twisting tunnel into the darkness! I followed and rigged my 'Stop' Petzl to the rope. After Mike landed we all moved on as the tunnel twisted downwards. Another anchor line was needed and I handed down my 200 ft. static rope. Mike had to hammer down pitons to secure the rope redundantly. Rappelling down 150 ft. we finally reached bottom and found a pool of crystal clear waters. From the start of the fork in the main cave, we must have gone down at least 300 ft. to the sump. Mike and I started gearing up. Serge and Frank were to stay above water and wait. I donned a 40 cuft tank side-mounted to my left, mounted my MLS to my right and tie-wrapped two Q-40s on either side of my Petzl helmet. Mike had Q-40s on his helmet too and we both had Poseidon regulators. I turned on the MLS to illuminated the pool. Finding a protruding rock above water and making a primary tie-off with my line, I yanked my reel forward towards a narrow tunnel and into the unknown! A constriction came into view but easily widened as we moved along an underwater corridor. I proceeded to swim with caution and discovered another larger opening, down and up ahead! A tonsil-like rock formation hung from its ceiling. We were inside a chamber of a cave at 30 ft of freshwater, 300 ft. below the main tunnel which was 500 ft above the river. I noticed a passage going to the right and swam along it. It led to another chamber but what caught my attention was another constriction leading to another opening. Pulling my reel forward, I made the push into the constriction and we found ourselves in chamber # 3 at 40 ft. of the clearest freshwater we had ever seen! The bottom was composed of white pebbles but laced here and there with silt. We didn't notice any visible aquatic life inside nor did we see any clues or signs of 'Japanese Treasure'. Frank was hoping we would find something valuable. I checked my pressure once again and it read 2000 psi. Following the 'rule of thirds', I gave Mike the 'thumbs up' signal indicating 'to turn' the dive. Mike proceeded to turn around and grabbed the line while I started reeling it in. The visibility turned to a serious zero as we swam back inch by inch through the constrictions, tunnels, and chambers of the cave. There were times when Mike's fin would hit my face because I couldn't see in front except for my reel and light! Exiting the sump seemed like an eternity. I would occasionally bang myself on a wall or hear my helmet scrape the ceiling, but I continued to reel in line. After what seemed to be forever in trying to be 'super-cool', I finally saw a glimmer of light above! It was Serge and Frank…we were out! "What was it like down there?", Frank asked. "What was it like?", I repeated, "It was like going through the throat of a dragon". He laughed and I knew that he understood. After much needed rest, lunch, and idle talk, we all agreed that future trips will be limited to dry caving and to help map the caves of Montalban. But I knew that the Dragon's Throat will beckon us once more! This is an excerpt from the original story. For more details please send an email to
This e-mail address is being protected from spam bots, you need JavaScript enabled to view it
|
