CAVE DIVING

Motivations to Practice an Engaged Activity

PIERRE BOUDINET

Copyright © 2015 by Pierre Boudinet.

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PREFACE

By 1996, when I met Pierre Boudinet, he told me that he was to begin cave diving. He was eager to participate in a training session that was to take place shortly after. He was scuba-diver since more than ten years and diver under ice since four years, he thought that cave diving was the achievement of his sport and exploration career.

Then caving has been a continuity equation in order to learn and to understand underground surroundings. In order to explore, study and survey caves, Pierre has learned more and more “light” rope techniques inside more and more deep, narrow and wet shafts. Mastering these techniques was a necessity in order to reach sumps that are beyond the pits.

Pierre tells you his experiences, his feeling, his successes and failures regarding a lot of explorations he made. This isn’t diving just for fun, nor touristic caving. All has been calculated, planned, in order to progress and to understand the cave and to be at ease in it. I never saw him deliberately taking too much risk for him or for other people. Stopping a too hazardous exploration isn’t shameful, on the contrary this is bravery because it enables to be still alive.

In order to be more at ease underground, Pierre starts climbing in order to be able to progress beyond sumps. One might be tempted to believe it is a pure leisure but his mind is always oriented towards enhancement.

This is a book about exploration from an individual, systematic, careful and informed cave diver. You will read that he hasn’t always been approved by his fellows, but since 19 years I know him, his diligence is linked to many works he performed. He has been published in several magazines and he demonstrates us that all that isn’t only a passion but also scientific, geologic and human exploration.

With such a teacher, I spent very good moments of learning underground: in addition to prospection and exploration, Pierre knew very well how to share his passion with his family and friends, with a lot of pedagogy. Even if we don’t continue, the experiences we got in caves and underground rivers will remain forever in the minds of the neophytes we are.

I wish you, Reader, a nice journey underground, underwater, on rock walls…

Nathalie Boudinet

INTRODUCTION

During each period, each generation has to face the following problem: how to do something new when ‘all’ has already been done? This question is pregnant regarding all the human activities involving creation: art in all its forms, trading and science. Increasingly during the past ninetieth and twentieth centuries, this question has also become pregnant regarding minor or undisclosed activities such as sport and outdoor activities. In our early twenty-first century, these activities are no longer undisclosed. For the largest number of those who practise, this has joined the field of mass consumption. However, a smaller number remains who doesn’t fully follow this trend: I am one of these few people out of the largest number of consumers.

The pregnant question above has no answer outside the philosophical and ethical fields. I spent many hours, months and even years to think of it. Regarding the undisclosed and dicey outdoor activities I practise, caving and cave diving, it took me a lot of time to reach the conclusion that making something new is foremost a question related to thoughts and to a non-material field. Indeed, we are in technological times where ‘all’ is virtually possible if you have enough means, team or money. A very caricatured example: if you want to have a cave to explore in your garden, just buy the proper plot and pay for digging! We are also in a world where very few areas remain unexplored: all is already known by direct exploration or at least by aerial or satellite imagery and by other geophysics means. Regarding material facts, almost what can be explored has already been explored and what remains is unreachable at the scale of only one (wo)man. Eventually, all is submitted to regulation; and even to reach wild unregulated places, you have to pass through the net. You have to be selected by this net, where regulations very often favour collective endeavours to the detriment of sheer individual achievement.

In this book, I expose my own solution to this question of making something new when ‘all has already been made’ and how I have been led to this solution because of sundry events. In order to do that, the following things must be developed: How have I learnt caving and cave diving? How do I practise them, and how do they link with other parts of my life? How have they shaped my relationships with other people? Why did I become (and still am) cave diver and caver? Why do I prefer solo caving? Practising such activities engages one’s full existence and being. Again, due to the fact we are in technological times and that almost all has already been discovered, my personal solution doesn’t deal exclusively with caves. It is foremost a struggle in order to avoid to be overwhelmed by the anonymous mass. Being ‘well-known’ is probably important for business, but what matters for oneself is to have a full biography. What matters is to preserve oneself as a clearly distinct being, character and soul when coping with the different events of life, whether they take place inside or outside caves.

A play of words borrowed to the great history: it could be regarded as a ‘battle of the sum’, for it requires a high level of integration of different parts of life with unavoidable losses. In order to really exist, you have to coordinate your professional, outdoor and familial lives. There are three lives, whereas other people have only two lives. In order to understand something, this triple sum cannot be crumbled. The different thoughts you have during a given moment in a given place depend on a whole; these three lives are weaved together here. They cannot be disconnected.

I will mainly tell things about my caving life and how I regard caving, but I will also unravel some other threads of my character and some other parts of my life: in short, who am I really? Those things are sometimes far from sumps, pits and underground beauties; perhaps another author would manage to conceal them. Therefore, thinking of readers only interested by technical aspects of cave diving or to people only interested in sport and outdoor adventures, I would like to apologise. I’m not interested in sending you back the perfect image of the perfect caver and cave diver. I’m not the template you are looking for.

Not all the readers are cave divers or cavers or engineers. I would like to apologise again: it is very difficult to give you the right amount of technical explanations when needed. There will be sometimes too much and sometimes not enough. Anyway, what matters is not only the technical aspect of things. The most important is foremost a question of thoughts, something inside a non-material field. ‘Techniques’ are often regarded as the most important obstacle, as what does or doesn’t enable things. Nevertheless, at the scale of a human life, technical difficulties are easier to solve than conceptual and philosophical ones. The most difficult is to gain the proper outlook and the corresponding confidence. Some references are given at the end of the book or after some quotations. Among them, only few are about caving or cave diving, but they all contain precious philosophical elements that have sometimes been vital to the author in order to reach the proper point of view.

Eventually, it is very important to precise that the word caving has several different precise meanings in the following chapters. Sometimes ‘caving’ has a whole sense, including cave diving as well as caving in non-flooded caves (‘dry’ caves if one prefers). In other parts, ‘caving’ and ‘cave diving’ are regarded as two distinct activities. The context should prevent the reader from an ambiguous meaning. However, it is necessary to be very careful. The mix-up of the different significations of the word caving can raise a lot of problems. For instance, at least in France, for those who practise scuba diving, ‘caving’ means only ‘cave diving’. Reciprocally, many French cavers make no distinction between scuba divers totally unable to safely dive a sump and experienced true ‘cave divers’.

ANCIENT REMEMBRANCES AND OLD UNDERTONES

This chapter deals with my beginnings as a cave diver and as a caver. It was a long time before I began to make notes in a diary; hence, many details are irreversibly lost. It is only possible to conjure up the old undertones of something that has been very deep and interesting. It has been the turning point of a life. At the same time, it has been a world difficult to understand; and this is why, several years later, I have begun to make the notes on which some later chapters are based. The question to know if the surrounding world can exist without you or if you could exist without the surrounding world is irrelevant. But taking notes is the first step on the way of understanding the interaction between them. Understanding this interaction is the only way to avoid repeating endless the same kind of things, success as well as mistakes. Such a cyclic repetition is regarded by several religions, and especially Buddhism, as the hell. Whatever one’s beliefs, one has to write if one wants to avoid repeating always the same thing. Some writings begin without having a previous written basis, and with few documentary basis, this is the case here.

I encountered cave diving at the same time I encountered my future wife during May 1996. We are still happy, still together and still happy together. Despite or thanks to time’s flow, I’m still alive and still in love with her. Before encountering cave diving, I had already a very special character and was a very special character. This is why I was well fitted for cave diving as well as for my wife! I have had the great chance to meet both. Not being obliged to make a choice between them has been a great chance too.

I subscribed to a training session which was organised in the southwest of France, in the Lot. At that time, it was an unknown place to me. The early remembrances are dim: a sunny morning of May, a pink wild rose slightly perfumed growing on a chalky soil and a landscape with a special relief. The ranges and ridges of ordinary mountains are absent of this kind of relief where the higher parts are the flattest. This was, for the first time, a conscious encounter with the limestone plateaus of Causses and more generally with karstic landscapes. At that time, I had already made some hiking and mountaineering, but I had by far not the specific geographical and geological knowledge needed to understand this magic universe of the karsts.

The session lasted four days during some May’s long holidays. On the contrary of the sessions of scuba diving, there was only one dive per day, and the four dives took place in four different sumps. Each sump has a special profile and is different from the others: the four dives were not the repetition and improvement of a unique thing. The sumps we dove are very classical sumps, not very interesting for experienced cave divers, but at that time they were the first sumps for the trainees we were. We dove in a sump named Le Ressel that opens in the bedrock of the River Célé and where the first problem is to find the entrance of the sump itself. We dove in another sump, deeper, named Saint Sauveur. It requires decompression stops. The deeper you dive, the quicker you breathe the available air, so this dive needed to be very carefully managed. We dove in Cabouy, a resurgence 30 metres deep whose water is not very transparent. It was an initiation to the ambiance one can find in more difficult sumps, whose surroundings are always very different from lacustrine or marine surroundings. Eventually, we dove in Font del Truffe, a shallower but more extended sump. In this last cave, because my tanks had no protection and because of the rubbing, I remember I encountered my first failure. A valve suddenly got closed, and air was no longer available. We were three people, two trainees and an instructor. During the first seconds, the feeling was strange and dreadful: a foreboding of imminent dead. After that, it appeared not serious at all. The instructor just reopened the valve (a horizontal model, vertical models are to prefer), and we continued to dive until we reached the safety limit regarding air consumption.

This limit of air consumption was known as the ‘limit of the thirds’. At that time, we were taught the following thing: if you wear two identical tanks, and if you use a third of each tank during outward, your total consumption is two-thirds. In case of failure of one tank, the inward is possible because it remains also two-thirds in the other tank. So (with the hypothesis your consumption rate will not vary) you are protected, and you are able to come back to the exit. On the contrary, if during outwards you spent more than a third in at least one of the tanks, there is a risk of having not enough of air during inward. Of course, in this case, the risk is to encounter an awful death. From a qualitative point of view, it was something very clever and very important: the notion of redundancy. If something fails—whatever could be this ‘something’ (air, light)—you must have something else that enables you to come back to the entrance of the sump and more widely to avoid the danger. Even if I will explain further why this ‘limit of the thirds’ is not enough from a quantitative point of view, all my caving life is based upon this notion of redundancy. Before this training session, I had scarcely heard something so clear and so important. The risk of an awful death, on the one hand, and the necessity to find clever solutions and to be brilliant, on the other hand, are the essences of the activity. In our century, this cannot be found in the ordinary life, and this is why it is very seducing for some kind of characters like mine.

We ‘learnt’ many other things. I use quotation marks for two reasons. First, I had practised several forms of diving before the session: diving under ice, a lot of scuba diving in several surroundings and with various equipment including home-made re-breathers. I already had some firm knowledge. Second, I have later realised that I’m totally unable to learn like other people used to learn. By a queer irony, my main occupation is to be teacher of chemistry and physics.

Among the things we learnt the compulsory and proper use of a guideline. In a sump, you must always follow or install a guideline; this guideline must be tagged in order to retrieve the entrance and to know how far from it you are. In addition, you must know how to prevent entanglements and to be able to efficiently solve them. You must have a safety reel and a compass: in a situation where you have lost the guideline, the compass gives you some indications to find the direction of the exit. The reel allows you to perform a systematic research of the main guideline or to repair a broken part of it.

All what is explained above is necessary but not sufficient. This is very analogous to the fact that childhood, with its immaturity, precedes adulthood. The most important: as a ‘child’ cave diver, I had no or very few feelings. I had very few perceptions of the surroundings. That cannot be fully taught during a training session, only suggested and underlined. In other words, self-teaching is compulsory regarding this activity.

Feeling, anticipation and a good understanding of the surroundings are by far more important in cave diving than in other types of diving. But at that time, I was totally unaware of this big difference between cave diving and the diving I had already made. Despite this huge importance of surroundings, environment and background, I just felt a kind of continuity of my ‘career’. Very simply, I believed that I had dived in the sea, in lakes, under ice; and now I was diving underground: it flowed logically. Instinct and non-visual perceptions are important not only to prehistoric hunters, knights of the primeval times, airmen of the early twentieth century and sailors but also to cave divers. But this dimension was not included inside the teaching.

I’m not the only who thinks that surroundings are very important. For instance, it is well described by Nan Shepherd in her book The Living Mountain, especially in the chapter entitled ‘The Plateau’. She suggests that there exist different kinds of knowledge and that what matters is to live things. There is a strong similarity with the existentialism of some academics, but she was closer to life and nature than they were.

During the session, we learnt also that in order to explore sumps, we had to look at maps. One taught us that we had to use our eyes to come and see. One taught us to ask for permission if the sump had an owner. It had been made in a too-pedantic fashion even it was at the same time a very good teaching about autonomy. At that time, it was probably the most important thing I had kept in my trainee’s mind: exploration was the most important in cave diving’s realm.

During the summer 1996, with another trainee from the same session, we decided to go back in the Lot in order to dive by ourselves other sumps. At the same time, with another colleague with whom I had dived under ice but not yet underground, we had decided to dive the Goul de la Tannerie. This sump takes place in the south of France, in Ardèche, near the small town of Bourg Saint Andéol. In order to dive with both colleagues, I firstly went at Bourg Saint Andéol to dive with one colleague. After that, I travelled athwart the Causses in order to meet the other colleague in the Lot. August was hot with a blue sky. The remembrances of the Goul de la Tannerie are as dim as they are nice: a small cliff, an ancient wash house and water we saw as very clear, crystalline, in the pond. Once in the cave, due to the poor lights we had, water seemed gloomier than outside and a little a bit oppressive. We carried some clothespins, for one had explained us that it could be used, in case of fork, as a flag in order to be sure of the exit direction! Indeed, it turned to be a bad idea because this kind of plastic is quite fragile and because those objects are not very firmly clutched upon the guideline. However, we encountered no problem in what is, from an objective point of view—quite an easy cave. We dived perhaps at 400 metres from entrance and for us it was something great. I only later have learnt that numbers are not always the right parameters to measure cave diving.

Perhaps there has been additional events, or perhaps those events took place at another time than precisely during August. As explained at the beginning, without writing, only a whole remembrance remains. It is a very partial recollection of punctual events that are important only because of their relationships. At that time, I tried to write a book about diving under ice. This book never came out for many reasons. The first one was a divergence between me and other people of my club, and the second one was the lack of skills to produce good illustrations. There is in my mind a link between this project of book and the Goul de la Tannerie because of the following reason: my mate had forgotten some material, so I waited during a long time near the sump, sitting in the shade provided by a cedar tree and trying to write. However, despite this link, I absolutely don’t remember precisely if it was during the summer 1996 as presumed above or if it was later at the beginning of the autumn or even the following year! Remembrances follow an order, are linked together, with a logic that doesn’t exactly match time’s arrow. The true remembrances that give meaning to your life aren’t marshalled following a one-dimensional order.

After reaching the Lot, I remember quite well what we did with my other colleague, but I absolutely don’t remember where we put our tents or what we ate. We met an instructor from Paris, who, in addition to the role of benevolent instructor, was a professional fireman. We had already met him in May during the training. We decided to dive again Le Ressel, this sump that opens underwater in the bed of the River Célé.

Before the dive, we used my compressor in order to fill our tanks. A tank fell, and the hose was damaged. As many further incidents or events in my life, I believe that I had neither seen this obvious problem nor prevented it because, deeper in my mind, I disagreed with ‘something’. This ‘something’ was perhaps the choice of the sump or the point of view of the two other people. As a consequence, I was deeply taken with that, and I had a weaker grip on the immediate reality.

I must confess that in my present life, I prefer doing serious things alone. Except some dangerous and scarce exceptions I will describe later, it has always been safer to me. Solo cave diving, solo climbing, solo theoretical physics and informatics are the only places of my life where I have a real, deep and strong grip on the reality. I think of what I’m doing, and I do what I’m thinking.

I cannot prevent myself to think of the great mountaineer Reinhold Messner, who describes in one of his books (The Seventh Grade, ‘The Obsession of an Unknown Objective’) the same kind of difficulties: during a solo climbing in a very difficult route, his rope got entangled just when he met a team of Czech climbers. When he asked them to free his rope, the Czechs told him that he had better to stop; obviously, they regarded him as a crazy man. He has been obliged to solve the problem by himself and, in a hurry, to escape upwards. In his book, he explains that he was in trouble and he has been able to recover only when the Czechs were out of sight. Once—this is less glorious—I succeeded to crush my helmet when moving my car because I had discussed with people with whom I disagreed. I am a specialist of this kind of blunders, but I don’t have the weakness to regard them too seriously.

The first part of the Ressel is quite shallow, perhaps 20 metres deep, and presents a fork. After what the two branches of the fork reach the same shaft. In its bottom, the depth is almost 50 metres. Farther, it is deeper. With my mate, we dove the shallow part up to the shaft. This was not a lesson, and the instructor left us in order to dive in the deeper part. Except Cuban music in the car, I don’t remember what we made in the evening after the dive. The day after, we decided to dive in Saint Georges, a resurgence near the River Lot. We parleyed with the owner more about the place where we had to park the cars than about the sump, the safety of diving, or anything else really important. This sump has a first part of length about 400 metres and almost 30 metres maximal depth after you reach a bell. After this place, the sumps start again and become deeper, longer, and less known.

Our goal was to dive the first part up to the bell. We used stage tanks for the first time. In order to carry them, I used a solution learnt from the commercial divers with whom I practised diving under ice. They had explained that it was possible to push extra tanks or other extra burden if their weight was well balanced by a buoyancy compensator directly fixed to them. For the non-diver reader, it is a kind of bladder that can be inflated or deflated underwater. The weight was perfectly well balanced, but the drag and the torque were not. As I have learnt further, this was perhaps a very good technique for someone who has a static task to perform, but it was not very fine for travelling hundreds of meters in a sump, especially only with the trust of fins and without propeller. We made long decompression stops using air, which was far from optimum too. But at that time, we didn’t know very well the meaning of the word optimisation. Neither my colleague nor I had realized the huge importance of the adaptation to surroundings. I could agree with the idea that at this time, we were not yet cave divers; we were just divers using some techniques.

I was just a beginner, a newbie. However, I had been fully lured by cave diving, and I subscribed to an improvement training, which took place at the end of the autumn 1996. This has been something very rich, even if not fully pleasant. I believe that it has played a very important part in the construction of a character who has become tough. The organiser of this training session was a very special and very brilliant man. At least, I perceived him in such a fashion because he was very different from more common people. When you feel yourself different from common people, you can only be attracted by people your perceive also as different. After the improvement session, I participated to several of his exploration projects because of that difference we apparently shared. Later, I distanced myself for many reasons, the main being ethical divergences: regarding that facet of things, there were less differences between him and common people than I had believed.

This training session has been full of strong and opposite emotions. Those emotions were by far not related to the beauty of underground and underwater surroundings. They rather had a social origin: there was a kind of breakdown with my ordinary social environment of that time, and it was an immersion in a new environment. It was interesting, appealing, but I couldn’t totally handle it; this is the main reason why my remembrances are not fully pleasant.

At that time, I was not very aware that I had (and still have) a star character, with many hollows and peaks, and also a star fashion of learning. The training sessions have been a developing bath for this very special character. During some moments, I was apparently understanding nothing: I had the feeling to be a dumb and probably appeared like that to other people. During other moments, I was obliged to hide my huge level of knowledge and reflection to the other participants, instructors, as well as trainees in order to avoid remarks or problems. I have the precise remembrance of a very bad lesson about gas mix diving, where I heard a lot of false things. My only shelter was to pretend making notes. Of course, I asked no questions after that lesson! I have instinctively learnt that the more different you are, the less questions you can ask if you want to avoid problems.

Something especially disturbing and particularly able to generate conflicts appeared during this training. It was the difference between ‘caver’ and ‘scuba diver’. I had learnt scuba diving before starting to learn cave diving, and I was already instructor of scuba diving. But I had subscribed to the training session after a firm and definitive reflection. I was sure that I wanted to practise this activity in the most serious possible fashion. I have suffered a lot to be regarded as a scuba diver at the precise moment when I did no longer want to practise something that turned to be a mass activity.

People were not regarded according to their personality but according to several prejudices. From the most common point of view of that time, the only right fashion of entering in the milieu of cave diving was to be firstly a caver and (for exploration purposes) to need to dive a sump. Risking one’s life, trying alone or without any official teaching before subscribing to a training session was implicitly regarded as a must. One of the prejudices was that scuba divers could by no means become true cave divers and that they were only interested in the aesthetic and tourist side of cave diving. Regarding this ideal canvas, I was totally wrong. At that time, I was absolutely not a caver. I precisely had subscribed to a training in order to learn cave diving and to escape from mass and tourist activities I regarded as very boring.

This was the first time I encountered what I call ‘internal compartmentalisation’. It is difficult to describe. Very roughly, it is something like a crack between style and content, form and substance, inside and outside. You become aware that there is a deep crack between you view and fashion of living the world and the ones of other people. At a given time, something can be very important for other people but fully irrelevant and uninteresting for you. You understand (or not) that what other people expect and what you have to say or serve them is very different from what you expect. You become to be aware of the difference between reality and majority opinions: even if something is said by a large number of people, it can be false and not relevant for yourself. It demands an effort to deal with this concept, for you mustn’t forget that your inside feeling may also not match the reality. This is why I’m awkward during some moments of ordinary life. I find it very uneasy: I have always to think in order to adapt myself to things that are designed for other people. Truth and reality are as uneasy to find as a needle in a haystack; it’s a long and desert way to find them. But this way is worth to be followed, and mine develops along cave diving.

After this improvement session, I tried to catch up the schema described above as the only ‘right’ one. I subscribed for the first time a licence of the French Federation of Speleology (abbreviated to FFS). In order to balance the fact of being a scuba diver, I began to learn alone the techniques of vertical caving. Few months later, I participated to several projects led by the organiser of this improvement session, where vertical caving skills were needed: my self-learning had been correct. I later distanced myself from him for ethical reasons but also for another reason. When, regarding some facets of your character, you resemble too closely someone else, it can create tensions. This is particularly true when you have common aims and when you become rivals. Only later, I have succeeded to found the kind of relationship I needed; looking for complementarity is more important than looking for models. It is very natural to be attracted by people with whom you share some features and to be repelled by people with whom you have nothing to share. However, difference is a greater wealth.

I think that this ancient relationship has been a misunderstanding. I implicitly refused and still refuse some concepts that prevailed and still prevail in the milieu of caving. For instance, in order to manage their projects, people regard often other people as a resource among other resources. This can be done consciously or, more often, unconsciously. It is the dark facet of team caving as well as the prototype of our modern society. But here, I just want to point out that I do not regard people as a resource. When caving with other people, I am not interested in the management of human resources as if it were a business. I am neither interested in sheep-like behaviours. Realization of oneself as well as the others at the highest possible level is the most important to me even if it is a narrow and difficult way. This is easier to write than to do; only deep reflection and large-enough knowledge allow the detachment needed.

In France, the milieu of caving is mainly populated by left-wing people, I mean people who have a certain ‘social’ outlook whereas I have other beliefs. This was a reason to participate to projects led by a person who seemed less politicised. He did not widely spread left wing and social ideas on the contrary of other people from the same milieu. I believed we shared right-wing opinions. Since—and this is an element of ‘internal compartmentalisation’—I have refined my political thoughts. I enjoy political philosophy, which is a very important part of philosophy and can help to understand the world; but at the same time, I hate politics as a debate for commons. This is a reason to distance oneself from clubs where debates are unavoidable.

In addition and very likely far from caving, I discovered that it can exist many fashions, often opposite, to be at right-wing. And it exists many fashions to be at left wing too. The problem is not to be at right or left wing; it is a problem in an intellectual level. As a right-wing man, I would prefer to discuss or work with brilliant left-wing people than with stubborn right-wing people. Anyway, all those problems related to maladjustment to caving clubs have had at least a very positive effect: I began to read other books than purely scientific ones. I discovered or rediscovered Rimbaud, Mishima, Machiavelli, Marx, Dogen, Alexandra David-Néel and many authors of different countries, literary fields and epochs. For the first time, I succeeded to have a minimal literary life.

I wrote I hate politics as a debate for commons: politics as a debate arises when some people do not agree with an idea or something to do or something forbidden. Even if it doesn’t correspond to the most current definitions, it is always possible to find a left wing and a right one. I have been shattered by many political debates inside the caving and cave diving institutions: those who debate have very often a partial and shallow view. During debates, step by step, I realised that I was able to develop deeper opinions systematically opposed to the ones of my interlocutor. I could as well write that I have lost my political opinions. I became aware that the most dangerous happens when everybody has the same belief or the same opinion. So I have learnt to be afraid by the notion of consensus despite the central notion for the holy Western democracy.

Politics has particularly shattered me because one had explained us (former trainees of the improvement session of cave diving) that we had to participate to the life of federal institutions, especially the life of a certain ‘cave diving commission’. If we didn’t participate, it was a kind of sin with the same consequences in terms of dooming. I have been twice too naïve. Firstly, I was persuaded that what was expected was a real democratic involvement and not only a simple vote to maintain the current boarding. Secondly, I tried also to participate to the life of pure caving institutions where I was despised by people who didn’t exactly knew what was cave diving. Here rises the difference between cave diving and caving; the former activity is not practised by every caver but only by a few number. The result is that I have been doomed because I have participated too much! As a consequence, at that time, I had already understood that I had to split my underground life into two parts: the public, ordinary or disappointing part, and the private one, already rich. This is the practical facet of that internal compartmentalisation. I owe to very boring moments wasted in boardings and other commissions the understanding of the solution of a tough problem of theoretical physics known as the two-dimensional Ising model. I also owe them a suitable new decompression theory and the corresponding software. For non-divers: decompression theory deals with decompression stops one has to make after a deep dive. Participating to the public life of caving and cave diving has had a huge cost. It has built me a very bad public image. This is why, in turn, I perceived and still perceive this milieu as a drag. It is one of the reasons why I failed to obtain high-level diplomas in cave diving as well as in ‘dry’ caving. To obtain some of these diplomas, before curriculum and other firm knowledge, you have to be ‘well-known’ and to have a good reputation, which is not my case.

I succeeded at least to obtain the diplomas of cave diving initiator and of caving initiator. As an explanation of this success, the diploma of caving or cave diving initiator was easy to obtain. Not only because it was a first grade but mainly because it fuels the whole pyramid of diplomas. Without initiator diplomas to confer, the highest grades of monitor (translation for the French moniteur) and instructor (translation for the French instructeur) would be irrelevant. I obtained the diploma of cave diving initiator around 2000 and resigned during the autumn 2003. I obtained the diploma of caving initiator in 2003 and resigned in a public fashion during the autumn 2009 in order to protest against moral decay. I must precise that I have been an active initiator and that I have organised many training sessions. I have also participated as a teacher to training sessions organized by other people. Some of those training sessions were shallow and pedantic, very difficult to bear. By far, I have spent more interesting moments in cave rescue trainings even if this activity is now subjected, from my point of view, to the same kind of moral decay. ‘Technical rules’ prevail more and more over the intelligence of surroundings one taught me a long time ago.

I have always made more than my part of the job, and I have been very disappointed to be refused as monitor. This was also because politics. On the one hand, I was elitist; on the other hand, the level became lower and lower because the democratisation of the practice was regarded as a priority. The keyword was caving for everybody, but can an activity that takes place in a tough environment be ‘for everybody’? Monitors and instructors of caving and cave diving appeared to the beginner I was as chivalric characters, some kind of valiant explorers and warriors. But I’m not sure this is the profile expected nowadays. I resigned from all the system, and resignation is probably a shortcut that allowed me a quicker and better fulfilment. If I had been fully accepted in that milieu, I probably never had performed all the integral solo, which is the centre of my life. I probably had been engaged in a different fashion, more conservative, less interesting and less diversified.

Before entering in the realm of cave, I had obtained high graduations in scuba diving. It was a fashion for a young man, still a child, to gain self-confidence. With a high diploma, you are more easily allowed to do what you want or to dive where you want. When you have diplomas, even if you are regarded as ‘special’, it asserts that you are not foolish. Conversely, the same kind of reason led the man I am to be no longer interested in caving and cave diving diploma. Once self-confidence is acquired, trying to obtain diplomas that cannot longer be regarded as high-level certifications is a waste of time. If you want to do something or to be somewhere, you just have to do it! The next chapter deals with more ancient remembrances, which enable to understand the origins or the absence of self-confidence; what follows is mainly a story of strong self-confidence.

Picture 1.1: The survey of the Goul de la Tannerie as I knew it before my first dives there. The area denoted by the letter A corresponds to the survey of Picture 1.2 and the area denoted by the letter B to the survey of Picture 1.3 . I made both four years later.

Picture 1.2: I made this survey because one asked me to do it, initially it was part of a larger project including the study of several caves of Ardèche. Morphological details were needed in order to understand how and at what level caves had formed.

Picture 1.3: I also made this survey as a part of a larger project. The scale of the plane view is the same than the one for the cross-sections but it doesn’t appear explicitly. I’m not ashamed to write that I was not very skilled; I had made the drawing as well as the survey without using any informatics.

Picture 1.4: The entrance of the Goul de la Tannerie.

Picture 1.5: Betrand Léger was a famous explorer who made a precise survey of the Goul de la Tannerie. Presumably because of his very tough character, he died prematurely during an attempt to explore a cave in the Massif de la Chartreuse.

Picture 1.6: Inside the sump. Light bounces on air trapped at the ceiling.

Picture 1.7: Inside the sump, the guideline at right uses bolts installed by Bertrand Léger as well as other anchors.

Picture 1.8: Inside the sump. Some strata are more resistant to corrosion. This is a very clear cave and also a “very easy” one, at least for experienced divers. We didn’t belong to this category when we “explored” it at the end of the 90’s.

Picture 1.9: At about 700 metres from entrance, just before the deep zone. Bits of foam are trapped under the ceiling and recall that it is a sump: there is no free surface, and any problem regarding autonomy has to be anticipated.

Picture 1.10: A sight on the entrance from inside. Air trapped under the ceiling acts as a mirror.

MORE ANCIENT REMEMBRANCES

The breakdown between style and content described in the last chapter was also a breakdown with a whole previous life I didn’t like very much. I lived in a too-restricted and insulated area, with ill-adapted time scales with nobody to discuss about the problems I was interested in. When a young boy, I had few suitable models. It is interesting to tell this story for at least two reasons. First, it shows how your early life can determine the rest of you whole existence. Second, not everybody knows really who he/she is; perhaps some people will recognise parts of themselves in the following story.

At school, I have always been regarded either as very brilliant or as dumb. I early escaped into books, especially books that had nothing to do with official curricula. Now, when writing, it appears to be a situation where nobody took care of a child who had special skills as well as a special need of care. But at school, nobody noticed anything. The consequences were and are still irreversible. One of those consequences is to do things too early or too late. This means doing the same things than other people but doing them either earlier or later than them. It extends over a wide range of things, not only reading books but also by having relationships, understanding various concepts and so forth.

Very often too, things are made with another aim or have another underlying meaning. An important consequence is to be unable to communicate about certain subjects. This is due to the difference of knowledge about those subjects. Sometimes people cannot understand more than a quarter of what is said by this strange guy, and they quickly lose their interest. Sometimes what is so important to other people is only known in a superficial and remote fashion by this guy who is not interested in the matter and who has no personal aim in the matter. Eventually, the last consequence (but not the less-important one) is to enjoy things that are regarded as uninteresting or unreachable by other people. Having very singular dreams, trying to realise them and sometimes succeeding is regarded by others as uncanny. This is the main reason why, even now, I have a small number of real friends rather than many loose friends.

Step by step, this young boy became very advanced in some scientific fields and very late in all that did not interest him. Moreover, he had marks that were not always correlated with this disequilibrium. This perhaps explains why nobody saw anything. Sometimes he had bad results in mathematics or physics because he developed too intricate things that were not ‘the expected result’ of a problem, the solution of which was already known by the examiner. He was sometimes able to quickly guess the solution without being able to give proper explanations. More scarcely, he had good results in literary subjects just because of his ability to guess and create. Intuition and feeling are more rewarded in literary subjects where no pedantic demonstration is expected.

This situation continued at least until the second year of prep classes. For non-French readers, a short explanation about this system is necessary: it is the equivalent of the two first years of a scientific licence, with competitive exams at end. These exams allow to enter mainly into engineering schools. My first year of prep classes has been very traumatic. The reason is well-known, and a renowned scientific author such as David Ruelle explains it as follows: in that sort of system, one selects pupils able to perform quickly tasks of moderate complexity.

‘Moderate complexity’ means complex but not too complex whereas ‘quickly’ means you have few or no time for a deep reflection. Someone who is able to create and to guess, who makes things later or earlier, is on the exact opposite of all that. He is shaped to solve, define or understand very complex problems but slowly. More precisely, he takes the time needed; the pace is unknown, out of any control. As a result, he is able ‘to perform quickly some tasks of moderate complexity’ only if he has previously learned them by heart. This can be very painful and even could be regarded as a kind of disability. However, fortunately, I very scarcely encounter this kind of situation in the core of my actual lives, especially the caving one. I do my best to avoid it and to anticipate things. Either I deal with really simple tasks (tasks prepared in advance that I can process without a high level of consciousness) or I face very complex problems I have enough time to dream, define or solve.

I’m not the only man who thinks that the links between mind, body and instinct are more intricate than assumed in the realm of teachers and prep classes. In his famous book (The Seventh Grade, ‘The Obsession of an Unknown Objective’), Reinhold Messner explains very well how his body, his mind, and his instinct are coordinated. His fashion of doing right things instinctively needs a very good overview of the situation and is, probably, the result of a long training.

One can ask if cave diving and related activities are like a sort of revenge from the intellectual world of university and prep classes: at first sight, the degree of intellectual ability needed to practise them appears lesser than for theoretical physics or mathematics, whereas the concept of ‘performing quickly some tasks of moderate complexity’ apparently remains. However, my own conclusion is that such a view is false. The surroundings are very different from the blackboard of a classroom, and this can explain many things. Solving a hazardous situation is really different from performing quickly tasks of moderate complexity. There is no result previously known by someone else, and you have nothing to explain. You just have to succeed in saving your life, whatever the methodology used. Mine is often to carefully sweep an algorithmic tree I have prepared. However, this tree is mainly built up on the basis of feeling and intuitive ideas, and it can evolve. Intuition and feeling are very important. If you don’t have a minimal ability to guess (regardless this word means to be a scientist or a witch), you are potentially dead. I believe that I am still alive for the precise reason I never tried to perform quickly some tasks of moderate complexity in my new life.

Let us go back to prep classes. The schema of my years at school and college repeated itself. At the beginning, because I already knew many things ignored by other pupils, I appeared very brilliant. After that early time, step by step, my marks started to dive because it was a competitive system: the other students trained themselves with a lot of very classical exercises, which didn’t interest me. With the arrival of winter, I dove from the 1st place to the 34th place. As I wanted to do something against that bad omen, I forced myself to work on that exercises I loathed. I forced myself to be interested, so I recovered to some extent. But forcing yourself to like or to love something is extremely painful. It breaks something inside yourself even if you don’t realise what and if you are unable to communicate about it.

During the vacations of the next summer, I made a twice-strange choice. I studied optics because it was a part of the second-year curriculum, and I wanted to anticipate in order to avoid problems. As explained above, I’m very slow, and I must learn by heart these kinds of things. But I also studied quantum mechanics. It was totally outside of the curriculum but really very interesting. I needed that. Very probably, it has been a kind of solace. Inside the books I had, I learnt not only quantum mechanics but also wider things. For instance, I met the useful parts of a field of mathematics named linear algebra. It had, of course, not the same aim than the official mathematics curricula of prep classes. By this way, I learnt a very useful representation of anything that can evolve with time. In short and for readers having knowledge in mathematics, ‘anything’ can just be seen as a vector in a vector space. This can apply to the states of a computer to a quantum system or to the whole world including yourself if you want. This is a very important concept, for it embeds a huge degree of parallelism (this means ‘dealing simultaneously with many things’).

The second year of prep classes was a release and at the same time a deeper trauma with long-time irreversible consequences. Working a lot can allow yourself, for the first time of your life, to be able to solve problems in a non-intuitive fashion. Here, ‘to solve’ means to be able to explain an expected and already-existing solution to someone who already knows it. Very often, regarding examinations of physics, I was again at the first place, high above the other students. Such a soaring was a very pleasant release even if due to a huge effort. At the scarce moments of rest I had, I continued to study extra-curriculum physics as a solace. But this year has been deeply traumatic too, for I had the feeling that I was just able to do physics and nothing else. To what extent this special student was able to do physics? He had ordinary or bad marks in other subjects. After nine years of German, he was almost unable to communicate using this language. The situation was even worse regarding English. After five years, he had stopped it when entering in prep classes and was also, of course, totally unable to use it. This would bring him a lot of problems, especially to find a job.

It is necessary to make a large parenthesis about English. Regarding the situation from now, I can confess that I had learnt it alone, despite teachers. During a very long time, I was just able to catch and understand very small bits of text or voice. For a still-unknown reason, this remained interesting and motivating. I tried to write short and simple scientific or technical texts more or less related to cave diving. In parallel, I read a first book in English language. It was The Sky My Kingdom from Hanna Reitsch. She was one of the first female German test pilots; and she wrote a book about her life, career and experience. It was very interesting regarding the test of cave diving material: very likely the interest of a text makes easier your learning of the language. For each part of the book, I devoted a first reading to a minimal understanding of the whole significance of the text. After that, I made a second more accurate reading in order to clear the significance of each unknown word, with the help of an English dictionary. I learnt a lot of new words and other things, and a sort of breakthrough occurred. Beyond a certain threshold, your native language is no longer needed. Even awkwardly, you can use some elements of the language you are learning in order to improve your knowledge and mind. Being at the border between two different languages, waiting inside or below this threshold, is probably the most intricate and painful. This is also the most common situation encountered by numerous people willing to learn a language. Eventually, this border is a place where the word dumb has a full significance. You seem silly because you are unable to understand or to speak, to express ideas even if they are very clear inside your mind. This is a good experience, for it allows to understand in a better way than using your native language what follows. You can be very brilliant inside and regarded from outside as a ‘dumb’ just because you can neither communicate clearly nor speak properly.

Why learning English? It is the most common international language. Another strong reason is that it allows to escape French language and to escape a narrow world. To a certain extent, speaking or writing a foreign language is something that will remain difficult. It involves more intellectual resources in order to establish connections between words and ideas, which are different from the native language. Perhaps is it a kind of mental reorganisation and a sort of second birth and childhood. There are also cultural reasons. English-speaking countries are countries subjected to the influences of other countries and to the arrival of other people. Therefore, English language is the expression of very subtle and rich influences in addition to the fact that English-speaking people seem to be more tolerant. English-speaking people often don’t organise ideas in the same fashion than French-speaking people. Being able to understand English allows you to search intelligent things in a wider area. I give a great importance to influences. English language is very different from French and German languages even if it has some roots in the language of Saxon invaders and conquerors from Normandy. It has been influenced. North America has been populated by those who wanted another life, something Europe could not afford them. All that can explain why English and American literatures are so rich. By far, I have no general knowledge of the matter, but I enjoyed several authors who let me to learn their language. Among them, Sassoon, Blunden, Graves, Rosenberg and Mrs Sinclair are of special interest. They wrote about events that have simultaneously shattered them and shaped them. Robert Graves is a poet and a major author I regard as unavoidable even if I’m probably unable to apply the pieces of advice he gives in The Reader over Your Shoulder. There exist plenty of books in the public domain and a lot of audio books. From the same epoch, I strongly recommend The Story of Mankind from Hendrik Willem van Loon. It is surely out-of-date and childish regarding its content, but its philosophy and conclusion are very precious to me.

Let us go back the competitive exams that take place at the end of prep classes. Students are allowed or not to enter in engineer schools and other schools according to their rankings. Even if I was in a prep class in principle devoted to physics, at that time, mathematics were sovereign. For this reason, the rankings took in account the marks in mathematics with a stronger weighting than the marks in physics. Such a rule was disappointing. So I established on my side a list where the schools were sorted according to the weighting of physics and chemistry. This allowed me to decide what competitive exam was interesting. I chose five competitive exams among the six or seven possible. The one of Mines-Ponts was the earliest and then a good benchmark, a good preparation regarding the rhythm. It was followed by the one of Centrale-Supélec. By far, it didn’t interest me but it did interest my father. When he was young, he would have been very happy to enter the École Centrale. After the two aforementioned competitive exams came the three most interesting, with important weightings in physics: the École Supérieure de Physique et Chimie Industrielles, the École Normale Supérieure de Paris and the École Normale Supérieure de Lyon.

I remember very well having the maximal mark (20/20) at one written test of Mines-Ponts where I succeeded to give the correct answers to some open and complex questions. I equally remember very well having a mean mark to a test of Centrale-Supélec where the questions were not too complex. I answered all the questions, but deeper and more pedantic justifications were probably expected. I was accepted at the ESPCI with the fourth rank and the maximal mark at one oral test of physics. I was accepted at the École Normale Supérieure with the eighth rank over 24.

Eventually, I chose this École Normale Supérieure for at least two reasons. I had studied carefully the curricula of both schools. Regarding the answer to some questions I had in mind, the curriculum of the École Normale Supérieure seemed deeper. If I had entered the ESPCI, my family should have to pay tuition fees, whereas studying at the École Normale Supérieure was granted by the French state. At that time, I had not enough long-time anticipation skills and absolutely any notion about surroundings, background and environment. This is a notion that can be learnt only implicitly, by contact. Moreover, the word career that was very important to other pupils has still a negative meaning in my mind. Studying at the ESPCI would very probably have given me more chances to find more diversified jobs and would also very probably have provided me a more adequate environment, but I was not aware of that. I strongly regret this misunderstanding. Since, I have learnt by myself that there is no place where you can find very deep teachings. You can just find places where learning is pleasant or unpleasant; you can just find places where teaching corresponds more or less closely to what is expected by the largest number or to what is socially useful. In order to learn at the deepest level, you must study alone and teach yourself. I have become a very good self-teacher.

It is impossible to summarise life and world only in a curriculum or other few papers, but at that time, I did not know such things. I went out of prep classes totally exhausted, more than weary, depressed and obese. This had been hard, and I had been immersed too young or too old in the system. During further scholarship, I have always been split between two trends. On one hand, I was still waiting for very serious studies, things if possible more difficult and deeper than in prep classes. On the other hand, I needed to rest and to take care of me and my body. This last notion was, at that time, quite dim and gloom.

Again, a large parenthesis is necessary. I had just a very deep, intuitive and perhaps contradictory feeling that you cannot fully exist without your body. To a certain extent, ‘you’ are perhaps over your body but you cannot exist without it. You cannot regard yourself as fully alive if you and your body are not the best friends. In order to take some rest and to bring back body and spirit together, I started again scuba diving. I have always regarded the contact with water as something important. Swimming is one of the first things I learned alone, and I have always enjoyed to be inside water. Before entering in prep classes, I practised scuba diving in a club and had started to prepare what was, at that time, a diploma named premier échelon (first step). It is now known as niveau II (second level). The non-French readers must know that this is different from PADI system, and the non-diver readers must know that there exist several systems of diploma. The PADI system is of American origin and worldwide whereas in France another system prevails. In addition, the non-diver readers must know that both systems have a plenty of diplomas: they are the fuel of the business! After the prep classes, in order to obtain my diploma, I subscribed to a training session of one week on the Mediterranean coast, near Marseilles, organised by the UCPA (Union des Centres de Plein Air [Union of Outdoor Centres]). I had decided that it would be more efficient and would save more time than going in a club an evening each week and some weekends. It was during the summer of 1989 or 1990, and at that time, UCPA was still something benevolent. For instance, we had to help for the ship (an ancient trawler with a wooden shell and an old diesel) and to contribute to dishwashing. I enjoyed, I met more interesting people than in a club and of course, I succeeded to obtain the diploma.

Regarded from now, it is something quite elementary, and perhaps I just met ordinary people. But it looked like something extraordinary because it has taken place in surroundings very different from those of prep classes and university. It has been comforting and very important for the young man I was. I remember very well the intensive training devoted to the correct use of a buoyancy compensator. The only brand available at that time was Fenzy, and this kind of Mae West wasn’t very handsome. At the depth of 20 metres, we had to be able to save another diver and lift up the pair, control the ascent and manage a decompression stop at the depth of 3 meters. Now I am able to perform many things that are by far more complicated. However, I am not sure that awakened during the night or without preparation, I could perfectly manage the same kind of rescue with a Fenzy. Since birth, I had never been slender: with such a body, in water, you are more equal to other people than ashore. This is why water is so important to me and why I never stopped swimming even during the prep classes.

At the same time, I started jogging. On the contrary of scuba diving, this was not a continuity but a deep breakdown. During the 21st years of my life, I had never been able to run. I was frequently bullied at school because of that as well as because the other things that made me different. Despite the intricate or conflicting relationships we had at certain moments, I owe to my father to be able to run. At that time, he had stopped to smoke, and he felt that he had to make something for his health. He probably remembered that when he was young, he was a good soccer player and a good runner. So he started again, and I tried to follow. I owe to him not only for jogging but also for several useful practical skills that are not taught at school. Jogging has become and is still to me a physiological need. When I cannot run during three or four days, I feel very bad and unable to think clearly.

And in addition of all that, I started also martial arts. This exaggeration in doing sport was probably a fashion to compensate the past. In the small city we inhabited with my parents, each year, an exhibition took place. I had seen several martial arts during the exhibition, and I chose aikido. This martial art has evolved over time, and I have ceased to practise it for several reasons. With the teacher we had, what was interesting was a kind of universality. We learned how to use our hands as well as swords or poles. Our teacher was an ancient rugby player, and so his teaching of aikido was influenced by this other sport. Sometimes, as a warm-up, we made a game where the winner was the last able to stand up! Sometimes we made trainings with various real weapons, including women shoes. Nowadays, such things would certainly be objectionable. All that has disappeared in the recent aikido, which is subjected to stricter curricula. The aikido I learnt dealt also with a certain spirit of chivalry. It is not very well-known that the founding master of aikido, Ueshiba Senseï, has been a soldier in the trenches during the war between China and Japan during the 1900s. So even consciously unaware of that, the aikido I practised was close to some aspects of trench warfare where you have to survive rather to show beautiful and pedantic motions. It is probably strange to Western eyes that aikido could embody very refined and peaceful Buddhist principles on one hand and a remote inheritance of the strongest violence on the other hand. However, I am fully at ease with this kind of paradox. I think it is clearer than our modern Western world where violence is concealed as well as omnipresent. So with some sport during two years, I succeeded to lost some weight and to build myself an acceptable body.

What about further studies? In the first year of ‘École Normale Supérieure, we finished the licence of physics and started the first part of the master of physics. In the second year, we made the end of the master of physics, corresponding at that time to a DEA (diplôme d’etudes approfondies [diploma of in-depth studies]). In principle, in the École Normale Supérieure, we were free to choose the studies, the lessons, we wanted. Each student also had a tutor in order to help him to make the ‘right’ choice. However, practically, this has been very disappointing. When I explained that I wanted to study chemistry and physics in parallel, I had, of course, not been understood. The most important lessons of chemistry were at the same moments than the most important lessons of physics. At the same time, those who wanted to study mathematics and physics in parallel had all the possible facilities. I have been obliged to choose, and I will forever strongly miss the studies of chemistry I might have done. My tutor was quite always unreachable. The only time when I succeeded to reach him, I heard nothing interesting but a very classical speech. I wanted to do theoretical physics, and he regarded that exclusively as particles physics and cosmology. More than 20 years later and after having read many books, I persist. Theoretical physics can be very terrestrial. It regards many interesting problems of ordinary matter, ordinary fluids. It deals even with problems of earth science, biology and social sciences. Theoretical physics can be regarded as something that has a close relationship to mathematics; however, that does not mean it is of divine essence. This is something neither extra-terrestrial nor ‘useless because of a too-high level of abstraction’.

Terrestrial and useful physics were probably out of range of this tutor. Anyway, when I have explained what I wanted to do, or perhaps regardless of what I wanted to do, I have been sent to the DEA of theoretical physics. Studying theoretical physics in another more terrestrial DEA would have been better. It was a replay of what happened in prep classes. As already explained, mathematics were sovereign. The best students were sent in classes more specialised in mathematics (named M’). The others were dispersed between classes more oriented towards physics (named P’) or specialised in mathematics at a lower level (named M). The last students had no other choice than classes oriented towards physics at a lower level (named P). I had been told that I could enter an M’, but I chose to enter a P’ because I was more interested in physics, which I regarded as more necessary to understand the world. In the École Normale Supérieure, I had quite good marks after the licence of physics. I was the third after two boys who came from M’ prep classes. So we were sent in the DEA of theoretical physics. Other people were sent in a DEA of atomic physics or in DEAs of solid state physics and fluid physics, which were implicitly regarded as having a lower level.

The year of the DEA turned to be very uninteresting. We had perhaps the best among the best teachers, but from a human point of view, they absolutely did not take care of their pupils. Their lessons were not always understandable. I scarcely understood them despite some deep knowledge I had already acquired by myself. By contrast, some very important subjects were not developed. Even regarded from the present time, it remains a pity that interesting problems, with an interesting and quite tricky solution, did not belong to the curriculum. I must cite two of them even if a non-physicist reader will probably get lost. First, it is necessary to mention the Ising model. It is a problem defined by a certain Mr Ising. During the 1930s, he fled from Europa because of Nazism and ended his career as teacher in an American secondary school. Later, he was very surprised to discover the well-known Ising model. His problem has been solved by Lars Onsager. This brilliant scientist, who dealt also with chemistry, received the Nobel Prize. Second, it is necessary to mention the Dirac equation and its solution in a Coulomb potential. This equation was put on purely theoretical basis by a certain Paul Dirac, a famous physicist who received the Nobel Prize too. From the human point of view, this man was a very special character, on the brink of autism. The discovery afterwards of the positron justified his brilliant equation. Its solution in a Coulomb potential allows to study the hydrogen atom and to compare the predicted spectra to the observed spectra. This solution involves many tricks regarding group theory. It is necessary to precise that recently, with the discovery of a kind of very thin layer of graphite named graphene, the Dirac equation has found some very terrestrial applications in the range of solid state physics.

During those doomed times, I was in a depressive mood. Some snow had fallen in Paris’s streets at the end of the autumn, and it was the year of the end of the Berlin Wall. I was totally estranged from this marvellous kind of event. I absolutely did not know where I would go and why I would go there. To a certain extent, I was a sheep who followed the other sheep, a sheep who was not yet totally aware to be a black sheep or a scapegoat. I obliged myself to read some French newspapers, such as the Figaro and the Courrier International and some English newspapers such as the European. I tried also to read a book of poems from Melville and a book from the philosopher Francis Fukuyama. I wanted to acquire a culture, some knowledge in another field than the sheer scientific one. I felt also very well that I had to speak English. Even if I still know by heart, except its title, a poem from Melville, I totally failed in that cultural endeavour. As a far remembrance, it is a great happiness to quote this poem1:

Far Off-Shore

Look, the raft, a signal flying,
Thin a shred;
None upon the lashed spars lying,
Quick or dead.
Cries the sea-fowl, hovering over,
“Crew, the crew?”
And the billow, reckless, rover,
Sweeps anew!

Despite all those efforts, I was only able to read and deeply appreciate scientific books. If they are not written in French, the English of such books is the easiest and the more technical, the less literary. I had no girlfriend. During the first year of École Normale Supérieure, I had shared a tiny flat during several months with a girl I had met in prep classes. It had led to nothing. We had split up, and I had gone back to my family.

The third year of École Normale Supérieure was devoted to the preparation of a specific French competitive exam named agrégation. As well as prep classes has no full equivalent in other countries. It is a competition you must succeed if you want to become a teacher in French public colleges. As I had succeeded as a pupil in prep classes, I believed I could succeed as a teacher too. At that time, I confused the concept of being able to learn with the concept of being able to teach to other people. By ‘other people’, I mean not only very skilled people.

Anyway, this was one of the reasons to be fully engaged in this preparation, whereas other students of the École Normale Supérieure were not. This third year has been a release. All those who prepared this agrégation formed a good team, and we helped one another very frequently. Even if it was a very singular competition, I still believe that the success of each of us has been due to a whole team. The level in physics was lower than during the doomed two last year, but at least, the lessons were very clear, and we learnt to develop very clear lessons. We had also very clear lessons of chemistry, and we learned how to make and present clear experiments of physics and chemistry.

This kind of preparation suffers a lot of imperfections, but I still believe that some of my practical and theoretical skills originate from it. I owe to this French agrégation a little part of my skills for doing physical and chemical models and also for cobbling together materials in order to obtain something able to run on. At that time, the teaching in colleges and prep classes was not over-pedagogic as it is now. Fortunately, we have spent the most part of our time to a quite deep study of physics and chemistry. My aim was to be a specialist in physics, not a babysitter! My regret is, once again, to have been obliged to choose between physics and chemistry. There were two agrégations, one more devoted to physics and with a lower content regarding chemistry, and its symmetric more devoted to chemistry. I would have been very happy of the existence of a unique agrégation with the highest contents in physics and in chemistry.

Regarding the pedagogy, I must confess that I have scarcely seen teachers explaining interesting things. When they speak about pedagogy, it is very often in order to justify how they do. They demonstrate that this is the only possible fashion to do. The adaptation of teaching to real pupils, which is at the centre of pedagogy, is very frequently a mix-up of parody and intellectual rigidity. During the preparation, I remember perfectly an old teacher explaining how his view of teaching electrodynamics was the only possible fashion. It was the one understandable by students. I listened to his explanations, half sleeping. Simultaneously, in my dreams, I remembered having understood the same lesson as a pupil four years ago, with a very different approach! Pedagogy is foremost a kind of empathy and kindness. If you are not ready to be kind, to analyse and to take into account the real difficulties and limits of your pupils, if you are not ready to take care of them, you cannot regard yourself as practising pedagogy. This kind of empathy cannot be taught. From that point of view, whatever the diploma you may have, you are not a true teacher. Kindness is very important. I regard pedagogy as a massive parallel activity: when teaching, one has to take in account simultaneously all the pupils with their different characters. This is something very different from teaching to a hypothetical ‘mean pupil’; such a point-of-view compulsory implies that pupils far from average are thrown astray regardless of their qualities. This parallel activity remains possible with many pupils even if, as a teacher, I have always preferred teaching to the small groups. But it becomes quite impossible to teach when one has to follow narrow mass curricula that implicitly assume the existence of that ‘mean pupil’. A proper teaching is also impossible if one faces to pupils who want be regarded as mean even if they are not, for instance, for social reasons. I think that ‘modern’ teaching is a kind of moral decay precisely because it is the reification of the main pupil.

I succeeded the agrégation with the first rank and without the final damages I encountered in prep classes. Yes, it was a good release! During the preparation of the oral examination, in May, I took a week to dive in the Mediterranean Sea. I am sure that this rest was a key to obtain good results. I had still no girlfriend even if I tried with one of the she-students of the agrégation. I also had met interesting girls near the sea, but they were slightly older than me; and in our Western culture at that time, this was a problem. At least, it was a problem for them and for my parents.

I would probably have a very different life if I have had a stable relationship at that time. Perhaps I still would be a teacher in second year of prep classes, perhaps we would have children, perhaps I would write nothing except books about ‘exercises of physics for prep classes students’ or perhaps I would have a deeper underground life. Perhaps I would be a brilliant engineer. I don’t know, for life can be played only one time. On the contrary of a guideline in a sump, one cannot rewind it. Giving details would be too much technical, but the oral tests of the agrégation have been occasions to become aware of the normality of some people and the corresponding limits it implies. Even if they were regarded as specialists by a majority and had a high diploma or qualification, some members of the jury seemed perfectly able to miss the most interesting details. A plus in the appearance could be very easily transformed into a minus in the final mark.

The summer after the agrégation has been my last quiet summer. I read again books about quantum mechanics and statistical physics, dived, rambled and made a little a bit of mountaineering. This has been an occasion to meet a guide who was especially not a good teacher, since I have implicitly generalised this observation and have ceased to frequent guides. One noticeable exception to this implicit rule is a guide named Michel Blanchard. I have a huge consideration for him. This friendship and this part of my life will be explained in chapter 12.

In order to prepare a doctorate, I didn’t want to return in one of the laboratories where I had a work experience during the licence, the master, or the DEA. My last work experience was inside a laboratory of the CEA (Centre d’Études Atomiques [Centre for Atomic Studies]). I had to prepare thin layers of polymer and study them by neutron diffraction. It appeared not very exciting to me, and it had a too-slow pace. The part of work I made in England, at the Imperial College, was just the occasion to notice that my English was not good enough. Regarding my relationship with people, and girls especially, it was disappointing too. I just remember a certain Laurence to whom I offered a bouquet of hawthorn during the spring. It was quite childish. I was looking for something else, but I did not succeed to find something well fitted to my character. Moreover, nobody helped me to find; anyway, a simultaneous quest for a quicker pace and for more time to mature is hard to explain.

Eventually, I have chosen my doctorate by default. I have been recruited for a doctorate by one of the professors who taught at the agrégation in order to perform research about semiconductors. Slavery is by far not the proper word; however, he was very probably more interested in my level in physics than in my motivations and in my profile. The Laboratoire de Physique des Solides (Solid State Physics Laboratory) was inside the École Normale Supérieure. Even if in the milieu of scientific research such an establishment is regarded as very open, my own feeling is that it isn’t very open from a geographical and human point of view.

I had to work on an obscure subject named ‘bound magnetic polaron’ and to use computers in order to perform numerical calculations. During the physics studies at the École Normale Supérieure, no serious informatics course had taken place. One had just taught us elementary notions of Fortran, a language devoted to scientific problems. We had learned nothing about algorithmic, and more widely, nobody had taught us how to organise things (inside a computer or outside, in the real world). Of course, the theory of operating systems didn’t belong to the curriculum. There was particularly nothing about UNIX operating systems. Eventually, we hadn’t learned the deepest and the most universal language, which is known as C. For the non-scientific readers, UNIX is a very common operating system one can find in many computers. Even if Windows is more widespread among personal computers, you use UNIX within a Macintosh or Linux PC.

Another parenthesis for scientific readers: in an anachronistic fashion, I cannot prevent myself to think of all that each time I have to install an operation system inside a computer or build a small network in order to solve some current problems I had. I have learnt C and UNIX later, alone and in a practical fashion. From now, I think they are the most important if one wants to learn informatics. UNIX is the standard found in Linux, Macintosh and several mainframes. The sole exception is Windows, but I don’t use it even to watch TV. Why using something less universal than UNIX? The C language is something very structured, very clear, and that virtually allows all what is possible with a given computer. It is easily humanly readable but closer to other machine languages. Compilers (for a non-computer engineer, the programs that transform your text into a true program) exist for almost all architectures, and a great variety of libraries (pieces of pre-existing programs) exist. I have also learned alone elements of Java language and elements of the languages used for internet, such as the HTML (hypertext mark-up language). But these elements of knowledge are less universal, and I’m still in love with C and UNIX. They have almost the same age as mine and have few evolved since their birth: once perfection is reached, there is no need for further evolution.

During my doctorate, I quickly discovered that I was able to solve without a computer, and just with a pen and a pad, an important part of the problem. For a mathematician reader, with some non- limiting approximations, it was equivalent to diagonalise a matrix, which had a lot of zeros. I was not very well fitted for life inside a laboratory, at least this one. I arrived very frequently earlier and left earlier than other people. I preferred to be alone in order to perform a really productive work, and I was neither interested in discussions about political subjects nor in too-common subjects. Sometimes I escaped in the library and looked for the books or articles about theoretical physics that interested me. Very often, they had nothing to do with my doctorate. I found a very interesting book: Models of Disorder from professor Ziman. It was a very theoretical book but something very terrestrial. Inside was a solution of the two-dimensional Ising model and many other valuable things. Along with Elements of Advanced Quantum Mechanics from the same author, it has become a kind of companion book during bleak times.

Three extra-professional important events occurred during the two years I spent inside the laboratory. The first is very personal. Since early childhood, I had a cyst at the right foot. It prevented me to wear some kind of shoes, and I decided to have a surgery in order to solve that problem. The convalescence took more time than expected with a big oedema and also a rough explanation with the surgeon. Finally, I recovered a normal foot; and since that time, I can wear the boat shoes I had dreamt before. I subscribed a training session in order to prepare a higher level diploma of scuba diving named deuxième échelon (second step, now known in the French system as niveau quatre [fourth level]). This exam was regarded as something difficult in the milieu of scuba diving. It had technical parts, among them I remember very well a controlled descent and stabilisation to a depth of 40 metres and the refined use of buoyancy compensator. It had physical parts, including a quick swim with fins over 800 metres and rescue in apnoea. It had also theoretical parts. For instance, we had to be able to explain the anatomy and physiology of heart and lungs as well as to make quite complex decompression calculations. Now, as a training, I frequently swim more than 2,000 metres; and I am very comfortable with a dry suit, many stage tanks to manage and other complicated apparatuses. Nevertheless, I remember this exam as something really difficult as well as true, honest and genuine. The main teacher was a woman named Laurence. She was young and very dynamic. After the examination, she had explained to us in substance that now we had to prepare directly some diplomas in order to become monitor at the highest possible level. This is exactly what I made few years later. It had probably been a senseless advice for other people. This success and very good moment is perhaps a reason why I am more at ease when I have a woman as a chief or as a teacher. One can regard oneself as a warrior, but at the same time, one can profoundly dislike machismo. Women can be warriors as well as men. At the beginning of the training session, I had not fully recovered of the surgery. I have lost the last thread of stitch in my fins during an 800-metre swim.

The second event that occurred was the necessity to cope with the national service. At that time, it was compulsory for every French boy (and French girls were not concerned). The same summer of the deuxième échelon, I had to follow a military preparation in order to be allowed to postpone the national service. I wanted to gain the time needed to end my doctorate and to become officer. There existed other fashions to postpone this service, but I was not very interested in being military scientist. Before this preparation, I was very interested by the army and navy. I thought it would be a means of physical and moral development, a kind of fulfilment. I was ready to make a longer service or even to enlist for some years. But the preparation I made in the French Navy was disappointing. There were few interesting lessons at a deep level, virtually no information about the art of tactics or strategies and few physical exercises. We learnt more about marches than about guns, and the only landing exercise we made was not very convincing. So I changed my point of view and decided that military service was just something compulsory, not very interesting, where I had to avoid to lose time and other vital resources.

The third event is very timely. If it had occurred later or earlier, it may have changed my caving life. Inside the laboratories of the École Normale Supérieure, either I met uninteresting people or I was not ready and mature enough to meet interesting people, and this has been the case for Denis Langlois, who is a brilliant caver. After having obtained his engineering diploma, he had decided to obtain a doctorate. The subject of his research was quantum cryptography, and he had made it in the Département de Mathématiques et d’Informatique (Department of Mathematics and Informatics). I was very attracted by a poster in a hallway with the name, the subject of his doctorate, and the date of the presentation. However, my laboratory had an imperative during the same time, and I have missed him. I have met again Denis only several years later at the beginning of 2000s.

The standard duration of a doctorate is three years. During the second year, I firmly realised that I wasn’t fit for a position in the laboratories where I worked. I had to find another occupation. So as I had got the aforementioned agrégation, I applied for a position of teacher in prep classes in a great college of the northeast of France. Anyway, my thesis manuscript was almost ready, and I had only few things to do in order to achieve. I do not remember very well the summer between the second year of doctorate and the first year as teacher in prep classes. This is perhaps because I was distracted by the many choices made by default. Choosing by default had become something permanent. As a consequence, I have acquired a very contrasted and distorted feeling of the seasons. Each summer is the time of release, the time where I can have some vacations and escape from a world not mine. At the same time, it is a time of hope and disappointment. You are longing for a new year or a new position, a place where you would feel more at ease. Simultaneously, you foresee that it will be impossible. That’s just an illusion. During August, I had been sent by the laboratory to a congress in Germany in order to present some results. At the same time, I had to prepare the lessons for the forthcoming teaching. I was totally lost, and I thought permanently of all that. As a result, during a breakfast, I succeeded to spill the teapot and the jam over the table. It was absolutely not done consciously, but it looked like a deliberate action. As a consequence, it has been particularly difficult to apologise. Moreover, I had to use a language that I mastered not, the German one.

A long time after those events, I met the realm of caves and succeeded to find enough inner quietness. It has a great importance to me because it enabled me to gather things that cannot be gathered outside. This is the sole ‘occupation’ I know that requires simultaneously a huge level of fitness and a high intellectual level. This is a very open and rich environment. Its investigation during some moments needs the most sheer physical violence, for instance, when you have to pass narrow parts in a cave. Also, it needs at other times intellectual deepness, for instance when building models for the formation of karstic networks. Such models are often more complex than the models studied in theoretical physics. Of course, they are more terrestrial. I have eventually found my heaven. It isn’t everybody’s heaven, but what follows is centred upon it. I want to present this paradise to the reader.

Picture 2.1: I have known mountains before knowing caving, because in summertime it was a quiet place to feel released.

Picture 2.2: As character and life, mountains has many shapes, some are sunny and some other are more cloudy.

Picture 2.3: This beautiful thistle is less thorny than my character.

FIRST EXPLORATIONS

I really started to make explorations in the massif of Chartreuse. It is an area of limestone mountains just at the north of Grenoble. Several thick layers of limestone of Jurassic and Cretaceous ages that were initially plane have been folded by tectonics. Submitted to upheaval, they formed the present massif (Picture 3.1 and 3.2). At a large scale, it is a succession of three parallel ranges. Each of them has the vague shape of plateau rather than sharp peaks and crests. The massif is cut in a direction east–west by two main creeks, the Guiers Mort and the more northern Guiers Vif (Picture 3.3). The Guiers Mort originates from the Dent de Crolles, a part of the most eastern range, whereas the Guiers Vif originates from a northern part of the same range. This massif is subjected to important precipitations. It often remains wet even during summer (Picture 3.4) and has a kind of secret nature. Some narrow valleys are full of shade and green trees. One finds pine trees that are evergreen, along with several deciduous. The leaves of the latter turn to golden tinges during autumn (Picture 3.5). Above or in more open areas, green meadows take place. Remote white cliffs are the backdrop of this wild and very bucolic place. During the good season, it is not surprising to see butterflies hovering over flowers (Picture 3.6 and 3.7)). The para-gliders soaring higher look like their lurid companions. Rain during summer can be pleasurable or not. Sometimes it is a grimace before a smile. Then it is a pleasure to awake into the warm and damp air. The moisture on the soil disappears in the sun shafts, and one hears noises far away. But sometimes all is wet, cold and ugly during several days. The only noises one can hear are those of the raindrops on the tent and the stream of the brooks that have risen. Then one dreams of a sweeter autumn.

Regarding caving, this massif has a rich history. The exploration of the network of the Dent de Crolles has begun before the forties of the past century. In successive episodes, up to now, several explorers or clubs have found new things. This network embeds few or no sumps but many levels of fossil caves and has a complex geological history. Its formation began at a time where the massif had a shape very different from now. It was probably at sea level and less folded. Other parts of the massif contain a lot of caves too. Some vertical caves are very deep, many hundred metres, and quite difficult. Some of them end on still-unexplored sumps. The network of another part of the massif named Alpe contains several shafts, allowing to drop down in horizontal parts, some of them being flooded. The water pops out at the Source du Cernon, which is a sump with some deep parts. Many sumps in the Chartreuse have known the visit of a famous cave diver of the seventies and eighties: Bertrand Léger. Among other remarkable things, he explored the sumps of the Grotte de la Passerelle, of the Fontaine Noire du Cozon, of the Résurgence de Saint-Bruno and of the Grotte de la Lutinière. Unfortunately, he died at the end of the autumn 1984 in the same massif when exploring alone the Grotte du Curé. The crag allowing the access to the cave is very steep, and he probably slipped and fell. He made a lot of premières and was described by contemporary cavers as a tough character, very emotionally disturbed.

I came the first time into the massif of Chartreuse during the summer 1997. Several reasons led me in this massif less known from Paris’s cave divers than Lot or Ardèche. In a bookshop, I had found an inventory of the caves of the Chartreuse. It looked like something serious and systematic, with a brief history and description of the cave, all the bibliographic references, the coordinates and the survey. It was captivating. I remember very well having turned over the pages of this book and having looked for all what resembled to a sump. I had marked the interesting pages and had sorted them according to their interest, their difficulty, especially the difficulty for the lonely and inexperienced explorer I was. Even today, I would be totally unable to write this kind of book. But I think that such inventories are particularly important for the practice of caving. They are neutral; they give just objective details. They do not try to attract people to the activity or towards some precise caves. They don’t try to frighten people or to prevent them to practise. They don’t create fashion phenomena.

You can buy a book in an anonymous fashion, which is not the case when you have to ask information to other cavers, boardings or commissions. Here, you are obliged to explain what you planned and you are submitted to other’s judgement. I already had realised that I was different from the other cave divers, especially those from Paris. So I wanted to find a place where I could try different things alone without being compared to other people or judged. This outer evaluation, which can be a precious help for some people or at some moments, was now for me at that time a great disadvantage. Perhaps I also unconsciously felt that I was more attracted by mountainous areas and tough conditions. Tough conditions underground are not contradictory with the beauty of external landscape; from an aesthetic point of view, they are complementary. To a certain kind of cave divers, the ideal sump is deep, long, perhaps with some narrow parts but with a good visibility and a warm water. As I came from the milieu of scuba diving but wished a radical change, I was unconsciously looking for another kind of sump. I have found the difference I was looking for. In Chartreuse, water is cold, some places are very muddy, with a poor visibility. The sumps of this mountainous area are scarcely straight tubes.

I came a first week during the summer in order to visit some caves I had picked up into the inventory. During this first week, I remember having visited the Fontaine Noire du Cozon, the Source du Giclard, the Grotte de la Lutinière, the Résurgence des Sermes (Pictures 3.4, 3.8, 3.9 and 3.10). All these sumps had been dived by Bertrand Léger.

I had a lot of knowledge about diving, less knowledge about diving in caves and very few about caving. Especially, I lacked of what can be named sense of cave. It can be acquired only by practising ‘dry caving’. These words mean caving in caves that are not flooded, where diving isn’t necessary. If you are not at ease in vertical surroundings, this sense can be acquired as well in horizontal caves. The term horizontal means caves needing no rope in order to be visited. This sense is a mix of orientation, understanding how the cave has formed, how it works and how to move in underground surroundings. For a non-caver reader, the best analogy is perhaps finding one’s way in the woods when the mist rises at dusk. It is a kind of integration into the cave or of union with the cave. To a certain extent, you live the cave, not only being ‘inside the cave’. This sense must be permanently worked in real life as well as in dreams. Regarding a former scuba diver who wants to change, in an ideal world, the acquisition of this sense is of first priority just after the acquisition of cave diving principles. Continuing cave diving and even learning vertical techniques isn’t the first priority. But we are not in an ideal wonderland. I had only firm notions of diving under a ceiling, not this sense of the cave. It had not been mentioned during the two training sessions I attended. They had other aims.

I succeeded to traverse the first sump of the Giclard using ‘small’ six-litre tanks. It was something new for someone who used rather 12-litre tanks when diving under ice or deep in lakes. I did my best to make a new survey. The access to the cave is scrambling rather than walking. It is a special cave because it develops in limestone marl. This kind of rock scarcely contains caves; more often, it acts as an impervious level between layers of purer rock. I was very attracted by this cave, and I came back during the autumn for a further incursion. I had a job and tried to do it honestly. I remember having arrived very late in the massif after more than eight hours of car cumulated to a full day of work. It was before the dawn of a mid-autumn Saturday. I slept under a tent, quiet and well protected from a fine rain.

I had read a book about cave survey and thought of it when driving. One must point out that words and ideas do not overlap exactly in the same fashion in English and in French. The word survey may have a different meaning. Sometimes, for English people, it means the whole study of a cave, including a map and other elements. For French people, it means just taking the measurements necessary to draw the map of the cave, and it doesn’t imply other kinds of measurements or studies. At that time, even if I had been taught that a thorough observation of the surroundings is compulsory underground, I was more interested in this second meaning.

During survey, loops may be encountered, for instance, in the case of many interconnected passages or if the perimeter of a large room is surveyed. In such situations, errors can occur. As a result, the loop doesn’t loop! It is possible to retrieve an obvious error that has occurred during one of the measurements and to correct it. For instance, an inverted direction can be reverted. However, very often, the error corresponds to too-imprecise measurements, and it is spread over the whole data. In such a situation, it is impossible neither to find it nor to correct anything. The non-caver reader must realise that coming back into a cave in order to perform again certain measurements may be difficult, too expensive or even barely impossible. Nevertheless, for aesthetic purposes, it is possible to deform things in order to obtain an acceptable sketch with a loop that loops. In a very improper fashion, this is regarded as loop correction.

Before sleeping beneath the autumn drizzle (Picture 3.11), I remember having been very happy, quite ecstatic. I had understood the mathematics underlying loop correction! All that had been done when driving, so I had no notes. All was in my mind. Loop correction is related to optimisation theories. These theories are very important regarding other facets of caving (and everyday life) even if they are not properly understood by all the cavers. Here, the only thing to know is that one has to minimise something with some constraints. A slight modification must be added to the numbers representing each measure. The constraint on the modifications is that the loop must loop. Of course, the added modifications must remain the smallest possible: this corresponds to the minimisation. The modified data do no longer correspond to real measurements or real corrections, but they enable a more beautiful drawing.

Despite the excitement, I fell quickly asleep. I awoke later in the Sunday morning with a good weather, a blue sky over leaves having yet golden undertones. In addition to being necessary, camping was a fashion to be closer to nature and to caves. So step by step, camping or bivouac has become, when possible, an integral part of my caving practice. I entered the Giclard and succeeded to pass throughout the second sump. I made the survey (Pictures 3.12 and 3.13) using the guideline as a yardstick. At one place, the passage was not straight but had a sinuosity. I looked thoroughly around myself and realised that a vertical joint, a small crack if one prefers, led this sinuosity. I perfectly remember this event; it was the first time I was really understanding something about cave formation from a practical point of view.

During the same weekend, I tried to dive in the Fontaine Noire du Cozon. At almost six metres depth, the entrance was filled with blocks and quite narrow. This sump was beckoning, but I did not succeed to penetrate it during this first attempt. It needs to remove the tanks from one’s back and to contort oneself into what would remain narrow if not flooded. If I had to do the same job at the present time, I would probably take time just in order to study this narrow part before diving farther. I went back in Chartreuse during the summer 1998, during the winter 1999 and later. At that time, I made only technical notes; and as already explained, I had no diary. Once again, the remembrances about dates are dim. I remember very well some episodes only because I intensely lived them. This explains why memory’s order isn’t exactly time’s order.

I entered several times the Source du Giclard. The first sump wasn’t very shallow but not very warm too. It had a very amazing round room. Then a small cascade had to be climbed before finding a second shallow sump. Following a meander-like small gallery, one arrived in a larger room corresponding to a breakdown. Near the ceiling of this room, impossible to reach without climbing material, a mysterious gallery arrived. The main gallery continued after the room up to a third sump that had been partially explored. I succeeded to overtake Bertrand Léger’s terminus. The water was cold, and I still used small six-litre tanks. I dived the last sump without fins. They hadn’t been adapted to move oneself in such narrow surroundings. This sump ended on a chaos of blocks. Few years later, I have been told and I have seen that the entrance had been dug in order to remove the first sump. Perhaps many people, a club, arrived in order to continue explorations. I guess they made the artificial climb I was unable to do, and they reached a fossil passage almost ten metres above the active passages. Up to now, I never went back into this cave I loved so much.

I dived several times in the Grotte de la Lutinière. It contains two sumps, not very long or deep. The second ends on a breakdown, and I thought that perhaps I could overtake the terminus, a Bertrand Léger’s terminus, of course. I have never been interested by frightening things, and I do not practise cave diving in order to find scare. Scare and physical difficulty are not the same things. However, the young cave diver I was remembers something uglier than in other sumps. Outside this cave, one has to carry the material in a gully (Picture 3.14) after which one has to descend underground. After a short and not-too-step descent, one finds the sump. Hence, even one is not very far underground, the final preparation before the dive is made out of daylight (Picture 3.10). The place is wide enough, but there is no firm horizontal surface. In addition, the water is not fully transparent. I dived a first time without traversing the first sump. During a second dive that took place another day, I succeeded to traverse it. The third dive was devoted to the investigation of the second sump. I had carried a camera in a waterproof tube and took some pictures (Pictures 3.15, 3.16 and 3.17). Unfortunately, the tube was not protective enough, and the camera corroded due to water when returning. In the second sump, I laid a new guideline and at the same time removed the ancient, which was devoid of any flag. It was a too-complex operation for a baby cave diver. I turned around a block and cut my own guideline, for I believed it was the ancient one. By chance, I succeeded to retrieve the exit. I had not been too frightened, but between the two sumps, I paused. There was a certain happiness to be out of water. I regarded that as a misfortune. Few days later, I made the mistake to tell it to other cave divers. The leitmotiv was ‘prevention of accidents’, and I believed that it could interest people. If I would encounter such a problem now, I would tell nothing to anybody and just make personal notes. There is no pleasure in concealing things, but in some occasions, this can be a necessity. In addition, there is a contradiction: ‘prevention’ regards mass whereas cave diving cannot be a mass activity.

The fox condemns the trap, not himself

—William Blake, Proverbs of Hell

During the summer 1998, we spent several days in the Chartreuse’s massif with my future wife Nathalie (Picture 3.18). This was the occasion to hike, to ramble in hidden tracks beneath green trees. We even encountered a furious bull after having trespassed on a meadow. We met the friend with whom I had dived the Goul de la Tannerie. We had decided to dive together at the Grotte de la Passerelle. This sump wasn’t very difficult, but for the beginners we were, it looked quite tough. The entrance is a cave along the Guiers Mort. It is a quite shadowy place, and in order to reach the place where the dive begins, one must climb. This is possible without a rope, and I have never used such an item for all the further dives I have made in this cave. Despite this fact, one had told us that a rope was necessary. As a consequence, I had trained myself in a tree in order to be able to ascend and descend along a single rope. This rope story was more impressive than logical, for you have to first climb and only after you can install a rope if necessary.

The water in this sump is quite cold, less than eight degrees Celsius. We have been limited not by the air autonomy but by this kind of surroundings. Due to the cold, one of us has had a sinus problem, and this event shortened our dive. Carrying the tanks and other items had taken a lot of time, and we were very late. Back to the camp, I found my future wife weeping. She believed that we had got a problem and we were dead in this sump. Practising caving or cave diving with other people has brought our couple a lot of similar problems. Later, this has been a reason to prefer doing things alone. Team practice is not always correlated with higher safety. In addition, feelings of safety on the one hand and safety itself on the other hand are linked together because positive feelings can prevent wrong decisions. So belonging to a team is safe only if it enhances your feeling of safety too.

The exploration of the Fontaine Noire du Cozon took me a lot of time but turned out to be luckier and more productive. I processed step by step, for I wanted to avoid progressing for too long an unknown part of the cave. Once again, it was necessary to lay a new guideline, with flags indicating the distance and the direction of exit. The ancient guideline had to be removed too. I did my best to make a survey. From a geological point of view, the whole cave as well as the first sump is quite complex.

The entrance of this cave is marked by a pothole and opens in the bedrock of the Cozon (Picture 3.19), a brook tributary of the Guiers Vif. The first part of the first sump develops between two bedding planes. Tectonics have folded Jurassic rocks called a synclinal and put near the vertical position bedding planes that were initially horizontal. The direction of the synclinal is north-north-east, and the geologic map reveals that a slide fault of direction NE (north-east) exists near the entrance. As aforementioned, the narrow part is due to blocks, very big pebbles trapped between the walls. Beyond these blocks, I discovered that one can go up to a free surface. In case of a problem, it could be shelter for some minutes or hours. But the main sump goes down, always following the bedding planes, up to the depth of minus 20 metres. One arrives in a tube. I tried to re-explore the downstream part, but it was too much muddy. With the pre-existing guideline and entanglement risks, I did not try to overtake the terminus, a narrow place according to my book Chartreuse Souterraine. The upstream part is longer, and after almost 160 metres, one reaches again the free surface. At right, some water springs from a sump not penetrable by man. In order to continue, one has to climb at left into an ascending oblique tube. Then changes occur inside the cave, which are probably linked to geological modifications that can be observed outside. Seventy metres upstream in the Cozon’s bed, the orientation of bedding planes suddenly varies.

Climbing inside the ascending tube is quite uneasy when carrying tanks and other items. After a little a bit of scrambling (Picture 3.20), one has to descend a muddy step (Picture 3.21 and 3.22) in order to find the second sump. The oblique tube, the step, is in the same plane. Very surely, by a crack non-penetrable by man, it allows water to flow from the second sump towards the first one. The second sump is quite shallow. It has a length of almost 140 metres and of depth less than 7 metres. At that time, it has been to me a good reward to be able to traverse the first sump with a stage tank and to dive this second sump with my six-litre dorsal tanks. After this sump, the passage remains quite horizontal at the level of water (Picture 3.23). One found very short sumps before reaching an ascending part. I remember something vertical, where I succeeded to climb it even if I regarded myself as a poor climber. I had let a rope in order to come again with a lesser risk. An accident beyond a sump, even a modest one, would have huge consequences. All must be done to render such an outcome impossible. Beyond the vertical part, one finds a few concretions (Picture 3.24). Such places are scarce. Inside this kind of karst, the temperature and the carbon dioxide make concretions easier to be dissolved than to form. At the end of the passage, I found a last sump not explored by Bertrand Léger. In a last dive, I succeeded to dive inside and to do a survey. It was 7 July 2001.

During the end of the spring of 2001, before this last dive, I had faced an important choice. I was involved in collective explorations in a huge cave of Ardèche. I had carried many times kit bags for the leader, who was also the diver. I and another member of the team had been told that this time, we would dive. But few days before the date of the incursion, we received an email about the planning. We were no longer planned as divers. I had dreamt of that dive, and so I had been very disappointed. Probably I was more sensible and more disappointed than the other ex-diver. It has been very difficult to answer this email, but I did so. I explained my disappointment and refused to go in Ardèche. I went alone to ‘my’ Chartreuse where I succeeded to reach Bertrand Léger’s terminus (Picture 3.25).

It was a time of brave diving. I mainly used a wet suit. Even if travelling across one of the sumps only took a dozen of minutes, the full duration of the incursion was often more than four hours. I used five lamps fixed on my helmet in order to be sure to avoid any failure. LED lamps were not yet available. The light was issued from frail incandescence bulbs. It was something yellowish and not very intense. In the ‘dry’ parts of the cave, without the buoyancy, the helmet was heavier. The two tanks on my back were heavier too. Because of the depth of the first sump, I have never tried to use an acetylene lamp. It would allow a better lighting of the dry parts, but I estimated the risk of explosion underwater was too important. Gloves were necessary in order to protect oneself against cold and mud. I had the choice between thick neoprene gloves, which rendered clumsy when laying guidelines, and thinner plastic gloves, which did not very well protect against the cold. I frequently chose this last kind of gloves despite the temperature of water, lower than the thirteen degrees Celsius of Ardèche and other southern karstic massifs.

I am slightly short-sighted and I have astigmatism. So in ordinary life, I wear glasses. When diving underground, it is less easy to correct these problems. I used to dive with an ordinary mask without correcting glasses. Sight is more limited by the available light and by water transparency. Other senses become more important, and slight eye problems are no longer the limiting factor. Ears, especially hearing the noises of bubbles, can bring you many information. I tried only one time to use correcting glasses into the Fontaine Noire du Cozon. They had fallen from the mask between the two first sumps. So they are very probably still in the cave, buried in mud. I took many pictures between the sumps without any waterproof camera. I used a waterproof tube in order to carry disposable cameras through the sumps. For young readers of the twenty-first century, one must precise that digital photography was not well developed. I used cheap disposable argentic cameras. The quality of the pictures was limited by the available light rather than by the material itself. Taking pictures was not my main aim, but it was an interesting bonus. Now I regard the pictures one can take during the action as very important elements of practice. They are also objective data that can be as important as survey measurements.

I was sometimes near the limits corresponding to the rule of the thirds to manage my gas consumption in this cave. There were several sumps, so I was never exposed to the risk of a failure at the farthest point of a unique sump. In case of problem, I could breathe in the non-flooded parts and try to repair the material. However, in sumps having a different configuration, the rule of the thirds isn’t safe enough. A problem can trigger another problem. For instance, due to a failure in the farthest point of the sump, your gas consumption can rise because of panic and buoyancy problem. An additional problem with the guideline can be loss of time and of gas. Currently, in France, most restrictive rules are taught, for instance a rule of the fifths. My own opinion is that one has to adapt the limits to the cave and to the diver with always a large safety margin.

After this series of dives into the Fontaine Noire du Cozon, I have frequented other places. Later, with some close friends and other people, we have come back in order to explore a deep vertical cave: the Gouffre de la Forêt de Génieux. This collective endeavour will be described in chapter 11. After Génieux, I have come back alone in order to finish my exploration of the Grotte de la Passerelle and to reach its terminus. I have also come back to visit the Grotte du Guiers Vif and to practise cross-country skiing during winter. At the beginning of the ski season, it is always a great happiness to bivouac outside and to visit a classical summit named Chamechaude.

Picture 3.1: The sun sets on one of the eastern limestone plateaus of the massif. These perched syncline often contain long cave systems with a lot of sumps or former sumps.

Picture 3.2: Very simplified cross-section of the massif.

Picture 3.3: A partial map of the “Massif de la Chartreuse.” I sorted interesting elements in several maps and gathered them.

Picture 3.4: Entrance of the Source des Sermes. Even in summertime the massif remains wet.

Picture 3.5: Golden tinges of the Autumn.

Picture 3.6: The bucolic season can be better transcribed by drawing than making photographs. I’m not very skilled but it is a mean to take rest and to concentrate myself.

Picture 3.7: I drew this picture when preparing myself to enter the “Fontaine Noire du Cozon.” Beyond the scenery it is foremost a mean to reach oneself.

Picture 3.8: Entrance of the Fontaine Noire du Cozon. It opens at the water level. A small secondary anticline is probably responsible for the formation of this cave here. Non-horizontal strata are visible at left.

Picture 3.9: Entrance of the Source du Giclard. This cave develops in jurassic marly limestones, which is quite unusual. In order to reach the cave, one has to scramble, it can be difficult with some caving or diving material.

Picture 3.10: By the first sump of the Grotte de la Lutinière. It is close to the entrance, however one is underground and there is no more sunlight. I made the photograph using the incandescence lights I had for the dive.

Picture 3.11: Autumn rain in the Chartreuse

Picture 3.12: The first survey I made in the Source du Giclard. I didn’t use a computer, all was hand and brain made.

Picture 3.13: The survey farther in the Source du Giclard. I never went back to climb and try to reach the upper gallery.

Picture 3.14: The gully leading to the entrance of the Grotte de la Lutinière. This is less attractive than other places.

Picture 3.15: Between the two sumps of the Grotte de la Lutinière lays a breakdown, with slabs fallen from the ceiling. Not very attractive too…

Picture 3.16: The material between the two sumps of the Grotte de la Lutinière. The quality of this photograph is very poor, my camera has been flooded when coming back.

Picture 3.17: The surface of the first sump of the Grotte de la Lutinière, this is the surface opposed to the one of picture 3.10. Clearly, if one looks for aesthetics, another activity than cave diving is preferable.

Picture 3.18: Nathalie’s face lighted by the sunset. Having a stable life with one’s wife (or husband) is important for a cave diver. However it is necessary to meet a person who is able to tolerate and support you.

Picture 3.19: The entrance of the Fontaine Noire du Cozon looks like a tropical place in a heavenly island but it isn’t! Despite the turquoise colour there is no lagoon.

Picture 3.20: Above the first sump of the Fontaine Noire du Cozon. One has to pass with all the diving material and also some caving material…

Picture 3.21: …among this caving material, an ascender is particularly useful in this muddy step.

Picture 3.22: In places that are scarcely visited, such underground frail beauties are more easily preserved. Walking on these mud stalagmites would irreversibly destroy them.

Picture 3.23: Before a sump, the water level is marked by calcite deposits. One can also see some shapes named “ribs” which indicate a fluctuating water level, sometimes this place is flooded.

Picture 3.24: Frail concretions far in the cave. Concretions are scarcer here because of the lower temperature and other parameters which impede the release of the carbon dioxide contained in water, that remains corrosive.

Picture 3.25: My survey of the Fontaine Noire du Cozon.

CAVING, CAVE DIVING AND MOUNTAINEERING

I have started my life with caves in mountainous areas. Before I continue to tell that underground life, it is interesting to develop the common points and differences of caving and mountaineering. Strong oppositions can exist between the milieu of mountaineering and the one of caving regarding motivation, engagement and other aspects. I succeeded to escape this duality by retaining only what I found interesting in each practise. ‘Take the best and forget what remains’ took me a lot of time and of reflection; what follows is a part of these thoughts.

The inner parts of most mountainous massifs correspond to deep igneous or metamorphic rocks that have been strongly up-heaved and broken. The Mont Blanc and Aiguilles Rouges in France are good examples (Picture 4.1). These are the highest and snowiest ranges that are very interesting for mountaineers who often don’t afford interesting caves. On the opposite, some karstic areas are located at low altitude inland or on coasts. When they have less relief and are devoid from snow at any season, they cannot be regarded as true mountainous areas despite their a strong interest for cavers. However, the realm of caves and karsts and the one of mountains and cliffs overlap. A lot of karsts develop in mountainous areas or in foothills. The outer parts of many massifs correspond to sedimentary rocks, including limestone. During upheaval, they have been folded just as required for cave formation.

In addition to limestone or similar rocks, cave formation (in other words: karstification) needs fracturing, water and height for the water to move through the fractures. The main mechanism of cave formation is the enlargement of permeable joints, cracks and bedding planes by water circulating inside. Regarding this fluid, when wet air arrives on mountain ranges, the moisture condenses because the altitude increases. It corresponds to more important rains or snowfalls; then, cave evolution can be enhanced in some massifs. In addition to deep and numerous pits, this can be one of the multiple reasons to regard them as cavers’ mecca. This is the case of the Chartreuse we met in the previous chapter. In order to reach caves in mountainous areas, overcoming obstacles often needs basic mountain techniques. Walking outdoors for a long time on step tracks or dealing with snow is something current. So sharing a common landscape is a first relationship between caving and mountaineering (Pictures 4.2 to 4.4).

In order to reach caves opening in cliffs, it can be necessary to climb or to abseil. As a consequence, more technical common points exist. Sometimes one has to rely entirely on a rope. This is a complete similitude only for non-specialists. Ropes are mainly used in caves in order to drop down or to ascend pits. This means that without the rope nothing is possible. On the contrary, when climbing or mountaineering, the rope is often a safety item (Picture 4.1 and 4.5). With a higher risk and the corresponding greater engagement, things would remain possible without it. The same kind of shallow similitude exists with more technical gears. A lot of very frequented routes as well as a lot of very frequented caves are equipped with bolts (artificial anchors); then finding one’s way becomes very easy, and the equipment is easier. However, the bolts of a route are devoted to protect falls, whereas in caves they have a different position and orientation that allow an easy descent or ascent without rubbing. Confusing both notions has led to very bad equipment in some caves, at least in my country. Regarding less-frequented routes or caves, especially during the first incursions, chocks and nuts can be used in addition to natural anchors. They need more knowledge, but it spares time and effort if you master things. Once again, those anchors have not the same function in a cliff and underground. The fashion to install them and the directions of the forces they have to resist are different. According to my own experience, appropriate places for nuts are scarcer underground, but once installed, it is easier to understand whether they will be safe or not. Climbing inside a cave is very different from climbing a slab or another part of a route. The environment of a cave is often confined and slippery. Those who climb will understand that the concept of adherence is less useful and the concept of opposition is more interesting. Sometimes the problem is not a possible fall but how to avoid blockage in narrow sections even if they are vertical. Progression in parts of caves where no ropes are needed has more to do with scrambling than with extreme climbing. All these technical relationships can explain why cavers and mountaineers don’t always regard engagement and risk in the same fashion. A part of the risk is linked with material and people whereas another isn’t. The surroundings being different, these objective risks are different too (Pictures 4.6 and 4.7). Underground surroundings are more stable than mountainous surroundings because the time scales aren’t the same. Underground, one can be exposed to rises, falling slabs and other difficulties; but risks such as avalanches and stones suddenly falling at dawn or later because of warming almost vanish.

Another relationship exists, devoid of material basis: in addition to the acceptance (or not) of certain vital risks, there can exist common aims or feelings. It depends more upon the character of the person doing things. I will develop below what concerns exploration and première. Here, I just want to point out that some people practise exclusively mountain activities or do only underground activities. Others practise both. They regard them as complementary, as in continuity; they look for technical and human enrichment. This is my case. I don’t regard myself as a complete and skilful mountaineer, but experiencing some problems outside caves helps me to balance the underground problems I have to solve. Then I practise mountain ski and climbing, sometimes with my friends and sometimes alone. Some mountaineers never practise caving because they don’t like the environment, which is too much dark, muddy and restricted. Even if not really claustrophobic, they need sky, wind, sunlight and other things, which disappear underground. For them, cave diving is the worst, and they regard it as something morbid or crazy. My opinion is beyond the duality: if you cannot have sunlight and blue sky underground, it enhances the pleasure to feel them anew once outside the cave. When underground, one can remember these essential elements of nature; it enhances them. Some other elements such as water, wind and sand can be found underground. Reaching a small beach or experiencing spindrift very far from the sea is very poetic.

In addition to space scales, time scales are not the same inside and outside caves. Mountaineers need to wake up very early in order to avoid snow melting and other problems. One can spend several days of bivouac without any problem even in wintertime. On the contrary, bivouac is difficult underground and must be avoided. Caving implies to accept to come back very late; an incursion that has begun during the day may not end before the next morning. Despite the common landscape evoked above, surroundings are different too. Differences arise regarding motion, rescue, survey and the notion of exploration itself.

Foremost, helicopter, cordless phone, GPS, and other technological wonders of the last 60 years cannot enter underground. The degree of insulation remains higher underground than in mountains even if one takes into account Himalayas, Cordillera, Antarctica and other remote ranges. Even if subjected to a certain kind of technology and helped by it—cordless rotary hammer, for example—a rescue underground remains a purely human operation. To a certain extent, it is something external to caving, for it has another goal. The aim is to save lives and no more to do pure exploration. It requires an organisation and resources that are by far more extended than those of caving. The use of technological resources is possible only in a limited fashion and always comes up over strong obstacles. For instance, it is possible but uneasy and very expensive to bore an artificial shaft for a rescue beyond a series of sumps or beyond very narrow parts. From this point of view, cave rescue can be compared to mountain rescue before the fifties. A lot of mountain accidents, even the most severe, are quickly solved directly by helicopter, and the victim is quickly brought to a doctor. Underground, a doctor who is also a good caver is warmly welcome, for it is easier to bring the doctor to the victim. In case of a serious accident, the possibility of an operation underground cannot be excluded with all the difficulties and risks it implies. This suggests to a certain extent that even if caving is less subjected to objective risks than mountaineering, it is more subjected to the necessity of avoiding any risks.

The climbers who have climbed for the first time an exposed and complex face have often used photographs of this face. This enables to trace the route and to have a minimal mental representation of the obstacles before climbing. The history of the three last problems of the Alps (Cervin’s north face, Grandes Jorasses and Eiger’s north face), particularly the latter, is a good example. Caving exploration has often to do things without such hints (Picture 4.8). Of course, satellite or aerial photography is used in order to find shafts and other cave entrances each time it is possible. Of course, once the surveyed exploration has begun in a cave, it is possible to look at the existing survey or to superimpose it on a surface map in order to conjure possible continuations. But at the present time, there is no efficient means to have a direct image of underground networks before exploration. This is why making surveys is so important. In the best case, it is only possible to use geological clues viewed from the surface in order to guess what could be the limitations imposed on galleries’ development. The hypotheses have to be verified by a thorough underground exploration. One of my explorations has almost entirely been devoted to this kind of ‘theoretical caving’. I spent more time to reflection and outside observations than to dive in the cave in order to conclude it had probably no interesting continuation. All what concerns the Source Bleue de Cusance is developed in chapter 13.

A mountain has a summit, which can very often be reached by several routes. They can be ‘easy’ or ‘difficult’. So in the realm of mountaineering, a route or a face is something different from a summit. Reaching a summit by its easiest route or by its most difficult one has not the same meaning at all. Underground, one must realise that a cave, which is perhaps the equivalent of a summit, represents only one route. Except in the case of complex networks having junctions, it is impossible to reach the bottom or the end of the cave by two or more routes. This defines one of the goals of caving, which has no equivalent in mountaineering: looking for the junction between close caves or between parts of a network that have not previously been humanly joined. This is very frequently a huge teamwork that extends over many dozens of years. My own opinion is that having several motivations is safer and more interesting.

Seasons don’t have the same importance for caves than for mountains. Except the walk for reaching the entrance or except if the bottom of the system is at the water table, a majority of fossil caves are quite independent of the seasons. Some tougher caves, especially sumps or networks having flooded pits, can be entered only during favourable hydrological episodes. Frequently, this is either during dry summers or during cold winters. On the opposite, a lot of mountain routes can be climbed during winter as well as during summer but with very different degrees of difficulty (Picture 4.9 and 4.10). This is probably the reason cavers who are still very attached to competitive values mix up première and high-level practise. Another reason is (or was, since 2008 we are in times of economic crisis) the fashion to get money from the federations or other official institutions in charge of caving and cave diving. The available amount of money is very limited. Then the expected quantity of première is often the most important criterion. Underground, the variety of fashions of doing things, the qualitative aspect doesn’t matter to the greatest number. I think that a kind of diversification appears only with the ethical limits a caver can impose to himself. In other words, I regard the milieu of caving as very late and conservative regarding other milieus. This is another reason for doing climbing and other mountain activities. I am very happy when I succeed to climb alone a small route which is difficult to me whatever its difficulty for other people (Picture 4.11).

Even if some 6,000-metre peaks still remain unclimbed in remote countries, almost all the classical alpine problems have been solved. Almost all the classical summits have been reached many times. This is not the case regarding sumps. Mainly due to the depth and decompression imperatives, a lot of sumps are well-known but unfinished. Their end, for instance a free surface or a breakdown, has not yet been reached. Frequently, a new progression of a few hundred metres is considered as a huge exploit and a big première.

I have made several kilometres of première in sumps and very few or not in mountains. But my own conclusion is that première and difficulty are not linked in a systematic fashion. Sometimes when I come back in some sumps where I made première, I find it less easy. With a friend we have perhaps done some première when mountaineering. We wanted to reach a summit, and we found a part of the classical route too hard because of the snow, so we improvised something else. In that case, doing première was not our aim. We just wanted to reach the summit and sky down another face. If I had an advice to give to someone it would be the following: première remains important but don’t focus on it. What matters is to acquire very large knowledge and to make new things.

In addition to what precedes, mountaineers and cavers have not the same point of view about available means. The means used for speleological endeavours are sometimes described in an incomplete fashion. For instance, the number of tanks and other heavy items needed to explore a sump is frequently reckoned, but a bookkeeping that would establish the part of personal resources really spent by the lucky winner is scarcely available. Another difference brings back to ethics or absence of ethics: very often, underground, all available means are used. This is different from mountaineering nowadays where one can, for instance, refuse to use artificial anchors. The fact that a lot of great sumps are today unfinished has an uncertain and dim meaning. It should mean that the underground world can provide problems having a higher grade of complexity than alpine problems. Or it should mean that underground explorations, on the contrary of the alpine ones, cannot be carried out at a really human level.

The relationship between caving and technology is not the same from the relationship between mountaineering and technology. As already explained, it is possible to enter mountains almost without technological objects whereas non-technological incursions in caves are very limited. It is true that high-level mountaineering depends upon technological objects, such as resistant ropes, friends, cams and ice tools. Nevertheless, it has a weaker need of technological objects than high-level caving and, foremost, cave diving. Reducing the number of technological items and their importance can be a goal in the alpine realm. It is also a goal for caving and cave diving, and this is the essence of ‘painless techniques’, also known as light techniques. But in caving and cave diving, the dependence upon technology will always remain more important. Even if nothing is explicitly said, a complex human organisation looms as a backdrop. As suggested above, it is virtually impossible to venture in a succession of vertical pitches without equipping them with ropes, whereas some long and difficult routes have been solo climbed without the use of any rope. Venturing in a sump longer or deeper than few metres requires the compulsory use of diving apparatus; a ‘free challenge’ in apnoea is virtually impossible. The use of oxygen is more emblematic. Climbing a route and reaching a high summit without oxygen has been and is still a valuable goal for those engaged into very high mountains. This is perfectly understandable from the point of view of painless techniques. It can spare weight, time, global exhaustion. In sumps, the same logic leads to the contrary. For instance, oxygen is used to enhance the quality of decompression stops and to reduce their length. Refusing to use oxygen and gas mixes in sumps would be nonsense and, to a certain extent, something opposite to any coherent ethical rule.

Being at the end of a complex human organisation appears also in the time scales. Some difficult routes have been created in a short time at the scale of a dozen of hours or less by a small team. It is also possible for a small team to travel in a complex cave at that scale of time. Once again, this is one of the goals of painless techniques. However, during the exploration of a new vertical cave, boring the holes needed for at least few artificial anchors and doing the survey would take more time. Underground exploration remains currently something slow and heavy. Even if it is split into many quick and light incursions, it remains a matter of carrying material using human means and it takes several days. It can be shortened by using a larger team. But in such a situation, it means that a more or less extended part of the team is just a crew that will not fully appreciate the whole cave. The cavers who carry the material but don’t dive are called Sherpas by cave divers. This word borrowed from the Himalayas speaks by itself.

Caving and cave diving remain more technological than mountaineering. It is more difficult to reduce the amount of material needed or the size of a team. Even if one wants to avoid the cliché of nature as opposed to the artificial world created by man, this difference exemplifies the fact that very few human projects are fully independent from the products and methods that prevail since the Industrial Revolution. Climbing requires violent efforts. Hiking requires huge continuous efforts whereas a trend of our civilised world is to avoid this kind of efforts. They are less required in caving and cave diving. When moving along a guideline, especially with the help of a propeller, one must be able to endure cold and other constraints of the surroundings; but one has not to deal with the very intense, precise and critical effort needed during climbing. When passing a critical section during climbing—for instance, a overhang—rest is impossible. It is always possible to stop along the rope when ascending a pit or to ascend at a slower pace. All these differences are reasons to find a balance between caving and other activities. However, inside the milieu of caving, differences are often concealed to such an extent that there is a problem. It is possible to believe that nowadays certain cavers have a problem with the mountain and a biased perception of its environment. Perhaps caving is for them a compensation for mountain activities they cannot do. I had myself some problems with the height and unravelling things has had a great importance. It has been a milestone on the way to understand the specificities, differences and common points of the environments of sumps, caves and mountains. It has led me to understand that being too much at ease can also be a problem. I have had trouble with ‘pure’ cavers and cave divers as well as with some mountaineers because they had a reduced point of view.

In the early times, several cavers were also good mountaineers. For instance, the Couloir Chevalier, in the Massif of Mont Blanc, is named after Pierre Chevalier, a brilliant caver and engineer. He was an Alpinist who led the underground explorations during the forties of the last century in the vicinity of Grenoble inside the massif of the Dent de Crolles. He contributed to the discovery and survey of important parts of the eponymous underground network. He was one of the first to think of using nylon to replace hemp ropes. Fernand Petzl, the creator of the well-known Petzl firm, was another prominent member of the team. They were the first to develop apparatuses devoted to single-rope ascent, although this technique originates very probably from a publication of the Spéleo Club de Paris (Paris Caving Club). This association depended on the French Alpine Club (Club Alpin Français or CAF). Another interesting trajectory is the one of the Italian caver Emilio Comici. He made several explorations in the Carso and other karstic areas. After that, he turned to climbing. He solo climbed the north face of the Cima Grande and made several remarkable routes with companions. However, he met a technical problem during a hard climb and accidentally died at the beginning of the forties.

In our time, as suggested above, it is more difficult (but not impossible) to find such people who were good mountaineers as well as good cavers. For a certain number of cavers, the use of the word alpine means the approach of the emptiness and vertical space firmly locked to a rope. This has superseded the approach of true various alpine surroundings. The title of a famous book written by French speleologists and translated into English as Alpine Caving Techniques is a clear example. At least in France, the term alpine techniques exclusively stands for the use of ropes and related material in order to descend and ascend into shafts and other vertical parts of caves. This is one of the proofs of the biased perception of some cavers I suggested above.

Another evidence is longer to show. On the one hand, those alpine techniques have a predominant part in people’s minds. They take a large place during instructor examinations and in curricula. In many writings, engagement underground is measured at the sole yardstick of equipment. Other facets of engagement are less taken into account. One must also have in mind the splitting of an original field into three parts. In my country, caving, canyoning and cave diving are taught in a separate fashion. If canyoning and cave diving are taught apart, it means cavers are assumed to be able to cave without a high knowledge of water. Regarding caving, less time is devoted to the approach of water underground than to the approach of height. The approach of height is regarded as more important than the approach of digging and prospecting. Firm knowledge in karstic geology and hydrology is not always regarded as a necessary basis. On the other hand, this strong emphasis put on height contrasts with facts. Numerous cavers are not at ease in vertical surroundings. Often, bolts and other man-made anchors are not found at the best place or with the right orientation, and this is a material evidence of this assertion. The tardiness of some incursions can be regarded as an incident. Together with accidents not having an objective cause, it suggests that many cavers have not the physical condition needed to be a mountaineer even at a modest level.

During some climbing situations, a rope could be easily broken by an important shock, for instance, if you fall from an important height below the last anchor. The anchors may also be damaged by the shock and break. Shocks cannot be totally avoided during climbing or mountaineering, and this is why certain situations need a great care. For instance, it can be necessary to practise ‘dynamical belay’ to stop very progressively someone who is falling. Nevertheless, a lot of cavers fear ‘the shock that could damage the equipment’ in situations where shocks cannot exist. I should write ‘shouldn’t exist’. A shock underground can happen only with a wrong equipment or a wrong fashion to use it. I have encountered a lot of problems when dealing with very dogmatic and narrow-minded people unable to have a proper view of this problem. I could even write it has shaped my underground career as it will be developed in several further chapters.

Cave diving uses guidelines in place of ropes. It has a special position regarding the whole caving, not only because of this detail. From the classical point of view of pure exploration and pure première, it allows more solo practice. Even if the preparation is a teamwork, the final dive by itself is often the work of only one man. Cave diving is also more engaged than dry caving. Venturing in a cave with the right degree of preparation has a very low level of risk even if the cave is a very vertical one. For example, with a right equipment, the probability for breaking a rope is null. Cave diving has a higher level of risk. A part of it corresponds to the management of gas autonomy and safety margins. Playing with words, one must be exactly at the watershed. On the one hand, too-important safety margins would not allow the maximal possible incursion. They would lead to several dives where only one is enough; hence, they would enhance global risks. On the other hand, too-restricted safety margins would not allow to come back to the exit in case of problem and would surely lead to a painful death. Another part of the risk corresponds to the physical form of the diver. A cramp or a too-important cooling far from the entrance could also lead to death. There exist special risks such as the fall of a slab or the collapse of a breakdown.

Because of these objective risks, I regard now cave diving (at least the cave diving I do) as something very close to the climbing and mountain ski I can do. The level of engagement and risk are the same, and the same kind of physical violence I like is present. Of course, this violence is oriented towards nobody. The proximity has also something to do with the use of a rope for climbing and the use of a guideline for diving into a cave; your life strongly depends of the continuity of this item. It is not obvious to realise. On the one hand, because the absence of verticality, some problems can develop very slowly during cave diving. For instance, a tank is not open at the beginning of the dive, and the problem is revealed one hour after in an emergency situation where that tank is needed. On the other hand, problems develop very quickly in vertical activities. For example, if one slips during climbing, the fall is immediate. This is the same thing if you fall when skying a steep face. However, the guideline used underwater is something quite fine, and it may break due to rubbing or tension (mistakes). This is the same problem with a rope breaking after a fall (another mistake). I have found the same problems of autonomy, the same necessity of good physical form, the same kind of engagement, and also the same use of items at their limit. The human constraint can be released by solo practice in both kinds of activities. The only difference remains the aforementioned technological constraint; even when diving alone far underground, I’m depending on a remote but huge technological world. Petrarch, who didn’t live in our technological modern age, has explored the Mont Ventoux, which is a mountain, but not the Fontaine de Vaucluse (Vaucluse’s Spring), which is a sump. Reaching certain places alone, with a great amount of effort and/or risk, gives the beauty one finds there (Pictures 4.2, 4.3, 4.4) an additional significance and an additional value.

Picture 4.1: Solo mountaineering inside the Couloir en Y (“Y Gully”) of the Aiguille d’Argentière, near Chamonix (France, department of Haute Savoie). With my friend Stéphane Delcausse we went here a first time and he was the leader. Two years later I went alone a second time. Things are more engaged than dropping down pits alone. Using a rope would be too much difficult and one must engage oneself only if one is sure to cope with all possible difficulties. After reaching the summit, one can sky another face of the Aiguille d’Argentières which has a step of about 40°.

Picture 4.2: Another common-point to mountains, cliffs and karstic places is that they afford gorgeous sights… Here it has been a pleasure to slowly climb and appreciate the dawn, the dark sky has slowly turned to blue and several rose and orange tinges have appeared and then disappeared.

Picture 4.3: Another common-point to mountains, cliffs and karstic places is that they afford gorgeous sights… Orange dawn on a Causse (limestone plateau) during a cold windy wintertime.

Picture 4.4: Another common-point to mountains, cliffs and karstic places is that they afford gorgeous sights… This limestone cliff affords all the elements for karstification (water, rock, difference of height) even if it has no caves. At least a reflection on the water enhances the timeless landscape one can see when climbing.

Picture 4.5: At least with a good weather, the sight when climbing a mountain is always very beautiful, sometimes startling. On the contrary of caving, not all the things are hidden and it is possible to perceive the whole scenery. Here, the perspective enhances the verticality of the foreground, sometimes it is the opposite situation.

Picture 4.6: Rock is often more broken on the slope of mountains than underground, in caves. There are also snow and ice which can melt and let escape blocks on an unlucky mountaineer. To a certain extent, the mountainous environment has more objective dangers than the underground environment, itself not devoid of objective dangers.

Picture 4.7: Another danger of the mountain. This snow overhang can break and fall with you. The well known German mountaineer Hermann Bühl is dead in 1957 near the summit of the Nanga Parbat because of such a problem.

Picture 4.8: The Couloir en Y is perfectly visible (below the highest snowy summit) from the Col des Cristaux (“Crystals saddle”) where I went the day after Picture 1. If it were a première to do, photographs could be made and studied before climbing. That is perfectly impossible underground, the survey is always made afterwards.

Picture 4.9: The Col des Cristaux gets its name from the nice crystals one can find if one is lucky. Mineral wealth is a common-point to caves and mountains, being in love with minerals, rocks and geology can be a reason to practise these outdoors activities. In addition, skying here is an interesting problem.

Picture 4.10: The bergschrund (ice crevice in the border of the glacier) below the Col des Cristaux. If you fall when skying above, there is a risk to disappear in this bergschrund. Larger and nicer crevices can be explored in the same fashion than limestone pits, the bolts are replaced by ice screws. The opening of such voids and the presence of snow enough to sky is very variable according to the seasons.

Picture 4.11: Some limestone cliffs are very interesting to climb as a training (here the Falaise de Surgy, in the French department of the Nièvre). This isn’t only a practise of climbing for itself, but also a fashion to keep in contact with height and physical efforts when one cannot do enough caving. Reciprocally, a caver must have firm knowledges about climbing.

EXPLORATIONS IN THE MEUSE

The area between Saint-Dizier and Bar Le Duc and near the village of Lisle en Rigault is a tiny and very special karstic area of the French department of the Meuse. It is almost 200 kilometres far from Paris. Even if it is submitted to tectonic forces strong enough to initiate the formation of caves, it is a quite flat countryside. One finds no mountains, no perched synclinals, as in Chartreuse. Due to the weak folding, it is impossible to find deep vertical caves or even deep sumps. Thick limestone marl is surrounded by sand and by a thin upper layer of limestone. This kind of configuration can lead to many dolines of variable sizes. Almost all the interesting caves develop into the lower thick limestone marl and are mainly horizontal. Of course, there exist sinkholes, and shafts lined up along the fracturation. Sometimes they have no continuation penetrable by man, and sometimes they lead to the aforesaid horizontal parts.

Among the caves of this karstic massif, the Rupt du Puits (Picture 5.1) is a special case. Its natural outlet was a pond just at the level of a railway. The first time the railway was built, men decided that this insignificant pond had to be filled with gravels and other materials. Such an object was perhaps not very well understood at the end of the nineteenth century. It was an active sump, and the first time it rose, it destroyed the work. After that event, a kind of bridge has been built over the pond. The sump and the ‘dry’ passages beyond remained unexplored up to the 1960s. Bertrand Léger, Jacques de Schryver and other explorers succeeded to pass the sump and to reach the passages beyond. After that, an artificial entrance has been bored. Its initial aim was to give an access to potential water resources, but nowadays, it just allows non-divers to reach the underground brook that takes place beyond the sumps. This brook originates from another sump farther upstream. Colorations and later human junction have proved that water comes from the downstream terminal sump of another cave, the Gouffre de la Béva.

The first notes I made dated from autumn 2001, but I already knew the area, and I already had begun some explorations. My first contact dates back to 1997. I had subscribed to a training about scientific caving. It was organised by an instructor of caving who was also a lecturer of physical geography in the academic world. Among the trainees, we were only three cavers and the others were students in a master of physical geography. We visited the underground brook of the Rupt du Puits, the underground quarries of Savonnières en Perthois and also many interesting places that were not underground. I perceived the explanations as very deep and clear, and it was very pleasant to socialise with some of the students. We shared the same prejudice about human geography. I can report the essential of a discussion with a student:

- I am very happy. I am to going in the south of France, the Provence, for my master dissertation.

- Yes, it is a nice place! What will you study? Human or physical problems?

- Physical, of course! Physical geography is the only right geography, for it is based upon real data. Those who make human geography can say anything about any area. If you compare leek consumption by teenagers in Paris and in the Provence, that’s human geography!

I lacked sleep because I was tired after a week at job and because of the travel. I fell asleep during a lesson that extended beyond midnight despite the interesting and beautiful slides. At that time, I knew few about rope techniques. I had read a book and made some trials where it was possible near Paris: trees and climbing walls. I knew how to ascent, how to drop down. I knew also how to stop when dropping down and to install the ascending gears. I knew how to stop to ascent and install the descent device. I knew also how to pass a fractionation or a deviation, but all that was not optimised. In addition, I knew anything about pulleys and more sophisticated techniques. As several students were unable to ascend the pit of the Rupt du Puits by themselves, we had to haul them. I was just a basic member of a team who was pulling a rope. It happened a funny incident. A foreign student whose French wasn’t rich enough had been unable to cry out ‘Stop!’ when he came outside the pit. As a consequence, the metallic superstructure of the pit let him groggy after a bump. On the other side of the rope, we had slipped and fell into a thick mud. We stood up full of mud, and as nobody had been really injured, we all laughed!

I had enjoyed this course. Back at home, I bought a book about geomorphology and physical geography in order to improve my general knowledge. Since I have never seen a landscape, especially in karstic areas, with the same eyes, I have begun to understand things not only inside caves but also at the scale of the area that may contain caves. One of the results is that during many years, people in the milieu of caving have regarded me as a scatterbrain. More precisely, the reason was the shift I had between scientific knowledge and the ‘technical’ knowledge about ropes and other materials expected by ‘normal’ cavers. During a training session of cave diving, I even heard that I was a ‘poet’. I felt that as something quite unfair. Up to now, I have written few poems, but I am still alive. I have done many things in the field of caving and cave diving that would perhaps be too difficult for those non-poets!

My first objective in the Meuse has been the upstream sump of the Rupt du Puits. At that time, it had been dived on several hundred of metres by the Douchet brothers. I realised that I could make explorations in this sump. It was a shallow sump with a visibility lower than in southern sumps. In order to reach it, a long walk in the underground brook was needed. At that time, I had less ethical thoughts than now; but at least for material reasons, I was alone. So I decided to use the lightest possible material (Picture 5.2). A neoprene wet suit allowed me to avoid complex dressing sessions underground and to have to carry out a dry suit in addition to my caving suit. Except for the first incursion, where I used small 6-litre tanks, two walks were needed. I used side-mounted tanks. This allowed me to crawl in an easier fashion than back mounted and to be more at ease in a sump that was perhaps not very large. Walking in the brook (Pictures 5.3 to 5.6) with the tanks in my back or side mounted was quite easy, except when I had to pass deep parts. A second walk was necessary to carry out a bag with other diving items, some carbide and some water to drink, and the upper part of my diving suit. I laid a new guideline with labels and proper distance indications and made the survey.

According to my own experience, except very special occasions, concealing the projects enhances the probability they succeed. But the pit was covered with a metallic lid (Picture 5.7), and one had to ask the key to the departmental boarding of caving, or to some local clubs. So I was obliged to give some explanations to other people. During these moments of socialisation, some people were shocking. Another Belgian cave diver had planned to dive this sump, and he had the priority! Of course, nobody took in consideration the fact that I had already dived and not only planned to dive. I am very sure of what I write. During my first dive, I had seen no marks indicating another recent dive. I have never dived with this cave diver, but at least, we succeeded to discuss by phone. Using a team, he has joined the upstream sump of the Rupt du Puits and the downstream sump of the Béva. I can recognise his sense of fair play, for he has cited me in his article.

Under the pressure of time, before the junction, I have also tried to dive the Béva (Picture 5.1). I have not been helped by certain persons I had helped for their own explorations. Reaching the sump alone with the material needed for a dive hasn’t been easy. I have been obliged to crawl and to pull a kind of sledge containing my tanks and other materials. Few times after entering the sump, I encountered an incident. It was perhaps due to the tiredness of this kind of incursion or perhaps to other reasons. Anyway, after laying some metres of guideline, it entangled with my reel. The visibility was not very good, and I have been obliged to give up. The only clear thing I remember is going out of the cave very late. The forest hosted all the shadows of the night, and I was hearing wild boars, which scared me. This is why I remember the night walk into this forest as more dangerous and impressive than the incursion underground. I was devoid of shovel, large knife or other useful object in case of a too-close meeting with these wild boars. At the present time, if there exists a complete survey of the sump, from Béva to Rupt du Puits: I do not know where it is published.

I have been luckier in another sump, the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne (Pictures 5.8 to 5.11). This sump had been also dived by Bertrand Léger and by the brothers Douchet. Vincent Douchet had stopped 150 metres away from the entrance. This entrance is a pond (Picture 5.8) containing rubble, branches and other debris. The beginning of the sump is a bank of gravels and sediments. I have been obliged to remove the tanks from my back, and I have always entered into the cave with the feet first. In such a situation, a rope is welcome, for it is stronger and thicker than a guideline. It could help you to exit, for instance if the bank slides. I had also turned my head in order to gain few centimetres in thickness. Diving with side-mounted tanks isn’t optimal if you have to fin over a long distance. I have dived this cave many times, laid a fresh guideline with tags and distance indications, and made the survey. In some circumstances, the more you can reduce the number of dives, the less you are exposed to risk. In other circumstances, diving step by step allows you a better understanding of the surroundings and diminishes the level of risk. Vincent Douchet’s guideline ended in a joint, and the continuation was at right. I have observed many interesting things, for instance some sediments that had been later cut by water. At a place where the passage was cut by another joint, I had the surprise to find blocks falling on the guideline between two dives. It was not very stable. I wrote some notes in order to understand how this exploration has developed. Regarding the Grande Fontaine, the summer 2002 has been a golden season, and it has changed me. What follows comes from my diary. In order to follow the chronology, I have also included a report about the Rupt du Puits:

13 October 2001: I have slept at home and recovered from a hard week. I was late when arriving in the Meuse. My goals were to dive the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne and the upstream sump of the Rupt du Puits the day after. I needed to be alone because since the beginning of September, I had been involved in too many collective things. A majority of them were uninteresting. On the road, I have not succeeded to forget the Regional Commission of Cave Diving in which I am involved and which looks like an arena. At the same time, I have thought of very complicated problems of theoretical physics. Obviously, they are fully out of reach of those who dwell that commission. Overtaking one’s own limits in a sump would be very easy when not fully concentrated!

I have filled the tanks with my compressor, and I have found one of the filters full of mould. It can explain some sicknesses I have had during a previous dive. During the last week, the weather has been beautiful. It hasn’t rained. Nevertheless, the water in the pond of the Grande Fontaine wasn’t at its lowest level. This water was also not fully transparent. Even if the small brook streamed peacefully from the pond, it visually expressed the poetic feeling that the summer had gone.

Anyway, I wanted to dive. I thought always to that regional commission, but it had become a kind of undertone, an epiphenomenon. It was a kind of rude internal music inside which many people were offended. I was able to hear it without listening to it. I had sharpened myself, and those thoughts had paradoxically become a mean to avoid any loss of concentration.

In the pond, the entrance itself was more visible, but it seemed that it had become narrower.

I tied the guideline to a piece of wreck in order to have both hands free and to be able to manipulate my material. I had to remove some blocks, to bend some pieces of barbed wire, to remove a piece of tube… . I didn’t think of the old shells or hand bombs that could have been thrown here after WWI.

My fins and my legs entered into the narrowest part without finding any enlargement after it. My breast and my buttocks were pressed against the rock. Of course, I had removed the tanks from my back. This wasn’t an unpleasant feeling, for there was no risk to get lost in a too-large part of an unknown cave. When one removes the tanks in a large part of a cave, the huge risk, due to differences of buoyancy, is to let escape the tanks and to be trapped under the ceiling with nothing to breathe. But here, I wasn’t exposed to this kind of risk. However, I didn’t find any enlargement after the narrow section. When I tried to engage my head in this narrow section, the regulator disappeared in the gravel. When I tried to turn my head in order to free, the rock of the ceiling blocked my lamps. Of course, I had the second regulator in one hand, ready to be used if necessary. After 13 minutes of dive, I decided to go out. I would come back later, perhaps next summer with better conditions. Regarding rivalry, if I have been unable to pass the narrow part, potential rivals will encounter the same difficulty. Very well, very probably, because of the past rains of the autumn, the stream has repelled the scree against the rock ceiling and towards the pond. This explains why the entrance has become narrower. ‘Fight’ has no sense regarding caves. One has just to adapt oneself to them.

Back in the lodge, I have been obliged to socialise with other cavers from Paris. They were a whole club, and obviously, we had different goals and fashion of practicing. It is probably accidental, but their behaviour was very influenced by left-wing political views. During the weekend, out of job, I would prefer not being obliged to cope with such a social environment.

14 October 2001: I have woken up very late, for I lacked sleep. I needed physiological rest as well as repair of dreams. I had things to forget. I had prepared the material the day before, so I have been able to go directly to the Rupt du Puits. I wanted to test my new harness and a new regulator (only one in order to avoid double failures; the other regulator is an old one). I found some cavers from the Ardennes near the entrance. They explained to me that they planned to initiate some new members of their club. They weren’t talking about politics, and it has been a pleasure to discuss with them about caving and caves. I have explained to their beginners that the entrance pit isn’t vertiginous, and that the underground brook is worth to be seen.

I started before them with a large kit bag containing all my items and two tanks ready to be side mounted. I progressed in the underground brook, which wasn’t very high but not very clear too. So I began to think to a possible cancellation of the planned dive. And if it remained possible, what goal could be reached? I arrived at the place where some cascades interrupted the brook; and I passed them in three times: first the kit bag, then one tank and then the other tank. I took some pictures with a disposable camera. The mix of ambient cold saturated air and the warm saturated air I breathed has caused the appearance of white ghosts. Mist is unavoidable in such situations.

When I arrived by the sump, I took a moment of rest and drunk a can of Coca-Cola. Dressing on a flat soil with enough height under the ceiling has been easy. The other cavers were not far away, for one could hear another noise under the brook’s song. But I entered the sump before they arrived. First, I walked on my knees during few metres after when I started to swim. The guideline was covered with sediments, and the tags had to be cleaned. The visibility had decreased since last June. In such surroundings, having a problem with the guideline would be problematic. Hence, I took care of it in a thorough fashion. Many thoughts were in my mind. During a moment, I was thinking that, very likely, I would be unable to reach the terminus this day. I didn’t regard that as a problem. What matters is to understand the cave. It is a necessary condition if you want to succeed your integration in such surroundings, if you want to learn things and to preserve your life. This enables you to come back later and to go farther. I dare to play with words. It is ‘long-life learning’ as well as lifelong learning. There is a category of things that cannot be learned in a great hurry. It seems that some elders have not understood… . I arrived 460 metres far away from the beginning of the sump, at my last terminus. The Belgian had cleaned some loops of the old guideline. Nevertheless, stopping and continuing to clean, to take care of the guideline, was necessary. I followed the new line, which was slack and twisted around blocks. I had been obliged to fix it thoroughly using rubber bands. After 30 metres of progression, it ended, and one found again a free surface in a breakdown room. The water was foamy. In such a situation, testing the air above before fully breathing is necessary… .

After putting the tanks on the soil, I began the exploration of this room. This more sustained physical exercise had been welcomed to balance the heat loss. Near the beginning of the second sump, there was a crack of direction N 330° (it means ‘at 330° from north’) with an ascending part leading to a passage having the shape of a meander. I crawled and climbed inside. I stopped only once the risk of injury had become too important and the lamps on my helmet too cumbersome. After having done the survey of this room, I decided to dive the second sump.

It was deeper than the first one, and I came back after 65 metres in not-fully-opaque water. Back in the first sump, I was still very careful but less tense. The water colour wasn’t the blue-green of many other sumps. It looked rather like a murky mix of Orangina and mint syrup. Sometimes I shut my eyes and swam peacefully with the guideline in one hand. All was still, quiet, and I was very happy.

When returning and walking in the underground brook, I thought to lithologic and geologic details. The second sump was deeper because the breakdown room acted as a kind of dam. Other questions were in my mind. Why was the Belgian’s guideline slack? Why had they laid their guideline only after my terminus? Their guideline had tags each five metres like mine, but their tags were smaller and devoid of arrow. Why?

I hauled my material in the entrance pit. The other cavers were still here, and we discussed little a bit. Their beginners were happy too. I went salute Jean-Luc Armanini (a local caver I knew) after what I went back to Paris. The night sky was beautiful, still and with many bright stars.

27 June 2002: Back to the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne, I have used a dry suit, with two back-mounted ten-litre tanks and a seven-litre stage tank. I needed not really the stage tank, but I carried it in order to verify it was possible. In the entrance, you have to remove the tanks from your back and to lay a rope. This is complex a task. I think my consumption has been important. Regarded from the surface, it is equivalent to 35 litres per minute for a depth between 5 and 9 metres. Perhaps it was due to the fact I was stressed by the surroundings. Perhaps it was due to the cold. The waterproof zipper of my suit was damaged. It let air flow outside and water flow inside. It had been very dangerous for a deep dive with many decompression stops. I have been obliged to use my dorsal homemade buoyancy compensator, and it has slowed down the progression.

During outward progression, water was transparent up to the small pit. I saw many details that I had not previously saw, and I memorised them. I thought that the day after, making notes was necessary and that I had to take time for this very important task… . The passage does not develop like a straight tube because it intersects some cracks and joints who have oblique directions. Blocks and mud are present in some of these places.

I think the guideline I laid in less favourable seasons was well laid. However, as I am an elitist and perfectionist man, I am not yet satisfied. I have only laid 70 metres during the dive.

I saw traces in the clay deposits. They are laminated and have been dug by water during a past time, when the cave was not totally flooded. Otherwise, the passage has a cross section that looks like an almond. In the upstream sump of the Rupt du Puits, one finds the same kind of profile. The rock is not very solid. Natural anchors often get broken when one tries to catch them with rubber in order to fix the guideline.

I encountered an incident. After the small flooded pit, the passage develops slightly upwards, from -9 metres to -5 metres, and when returning, one of my ears has gone blocked.

28 June 2002: During breakfast, I had the visit of Jean-Luc Armanini. He has the same problems I have with some arrivistes. We discussed about that, and he also told me that he would visit me at the Grande Fontaine during the afternoon. He is a great caver who has already discovered and explored many caves even if he doesn’t dive. He is a true explorer, and first of all, he is wise. The Grande Fontaine belongs to his investigations. He has attempted some chemical tracings, and he would be very happy to connect this system with other caves or sinkholes.

I filled the two 10-litre tanks and prepared at the same time 140 metres of guideline. I didn’t believe it would really be useful, for it remained almost 100 metres around the reel I had used during the last dive and let into the cave. But it was important to have enough means. Anyway, I could let it into the cave at my terminus and use it later. After spreading some wax on the zipping of my suit, I arrived by the pond at 3pm. There were teenagers who were looking at the preparations. I wanted to avoid any disturbing question, and at the same time, I wanted to give a good public image. Foremost, I wanted to avoid subjects that are not understandable by other people, so I began to speak. And when I want to speak, I can speak a lot! I asked questions about their college or high school. I explained to them how I am able to wee outside of my suit and a lot of other things. This speech was, in fact, a screen.

I left the free air and passed the entrance with a stage tank, which demanded a certain organisation. With this encumbering material, tying the rope to the guideline turned to be a more complex operation. I had first to fix the stage tank to the rope with a carabiner in order to have both hands free. After that task, I had to put back the two main tanks on my back and to fix the rope on the beginning of the guideline. Finally, I had to recover the stage tank before being ready to start.

I knew in this part of the cave, the guideline was safe and I could see there was enough visibility. Not having the hand on the guideline was possible and pleasant. Despite the reputation of the cave, a part is a good conduit with a three-metre-width circular section and little clay at its floor. I reached the small pit and looked thoroughly all around in order to verify the absence of continuation straight or at right. I found nothing else and dropped down in order to continue. I jettisoned the stage tank just before a narrow section. I thoroughly observed this passage in order to avoid to be trapped when returning. I made notes up to my terminus where the reel I had let during the last dive was waiting for me.

My mood turned from optimism to a slight fear, which was very simple to explain:

- I was no longer in a known part of the cave.

- If I lost the guideline, I could quickly go astray in an area devoid of any landmark.

- My bubbles could release something from the ceiling, and this ‘something’ could be heavier and nastier than clay.

- Eventually, I absolutely didn’t know what I would find when returning. Absolute darkness?

Explained fear is not shame. In a feverish fashion, the reel turned in my hand, and I laid more and more guideline … up to the end of this first reel, 135m after. I joined the second reel. I had enough air to continue… . I stopped 80 metres later. After securing the guideline, I stuck the handle of the reel into mud where it would wait for the next incursion. I made survey measurements when returning. The visibility was quite good. I could see the guideline and read the instruments. Five kilograms of ballast would have been better than the four kilograms I had, for it was a shallow cave and I had consumed air. The end of the return turned to be comfortable, for I had no longer to make measurements. At the end of the dive, I had still 130 bars in each main tank and 70 bars in the stage tank. The dive lasted for 96 minutes, and I have consumed the surface equivalent of 31 litres per minute. I am elitist and perfectionist; reducing one’s consumption rate is important to me. After the dive, I thought that even if I would say nothing to anybody, I was a very happy man. I was very happy, quite ecstatic, of these 215 metres of première. To a certain extent, it was the happiest day of my life!

Jean-Luc arrived with one of his friends who was scuba diver. They wanted to help me, and eventually, Jean-Luc carried with precaution the stage tank back to the car while I carried back the rope. We have had a long discussion, mainly about the cave. He hopes the sump will end and lead to a ‘dry’ passage. I explained to him that the average step is one metre over hundred metres. End of sump in 400 metres? Nine hundred metres? Jean-Luc congratulated me because he has worked on this system during 30 years. He was very happy that another caver had contributed to the investigations. I have been twice happy because I regard happiness of other people as something important; they aren’t human resources, slaves or pure objects. I felt at ease because we were able to discuss about my former state of scuba diver, my actual state of caver, without any problem. During a moment, I have forgotten all problems I had with the cavers and the cave divers of the federation.

25 July 2002: I went in the Meuse for only one day just for one dive. I used two 10-litre tanks filled with 230b of air and a 12-litre stage tank. My suit began to be leaking since the beginning of the dive. Nevertheless, I continued. I wanted to perform this dive. I belong to the category of those who will do it despite any obstacle, and I have a very tough character. During this kind of dive, one is always swimming; therefore, cold is more bearable contrary of dives with long and static decompression stops.

I entered the cave without rope, all right! After adjusting the tanks on my back, I started. Because of the stage tank at right and the suit, which was leaking, the balance was far from perfection. I passed the second narrow passage after the small pit and swam in a long conduit, which was wider. I jettisoned the stage tank after having consumed one-third of its total capacity. It would be possible to use it up to 40%; but when returning, in my situation, if one is cooled, one needs more gas to breathe. In addition, this material was cumbersome. Eventually, once jettisoned here, it acted as a kind of milestone. It was a post indicating ‘You are on the right way towards exit’. Once the tank left, I recovered a perfect balance; it was easier to swim. My progress was monotonic, and the visibility wasn’t ideal. It had recently rained, and the sump had probably raised. This event was visible even outside, for there were sediments deposits on the shore of the pond.

Reel: I took it, removed the rubber band, and began to lay the guideline in this new unknown part of the cave. It seemed wide, but I could hardly see something, so the best way was the straight one! I suddenly heard a long, loud sound of bubbles. During a short moment, I feared a breakdown, but the bubbles were just ascending into a joint some metres in front of me. I succeeded to see that there wasn’t any free surface.

Just after this place, I found a room due to a breakdown. My forecast was wrong. Any free surface had been reached, and more than 400 metres away from the entrance, I had to follow a scree and to descend. No problem with the ears. As soon as I stopped, the visibility vanished. A first rock on which I wanted to fix the guideline with a rubber band broke, a second one broke too and the third one broke too… . Nevertheless, the latter was heavy enough and large enough, so I used it as an anchor even if it was free from the wall. It was quite uneasy to avoid the guideline to become slack. The best term to qualify things was, in short, ‘It sucks!’ However, the visibility remained good enough except during stops. During this dive, I have been able to understand the conduit, which has the same shape than before the breakdown room and looks like the Béva’s conduit. A depth of 11 metres is an important one in Meuse!

Once at the end of the reel, I had a strong will, so I fixed the reel on a block in order to have both hands free. I prepared a loop in order to tie the next guideline (200 metres on another reel). I had no interferences into my thoughts. All that has to flow flowed in the right order. But I surprised myself to think of a former teacher of cave diving. I wasn’t thinking of potential rivalry regarding exploration, air consumption or endurance. Rather than pointing out differences, I was thinking to some similarities in our philosophies of life and the fact we had no children. I was also thinking of his fashion to move underwater. Even if a tendency to avoid each other underwater had risen, I meet him sometimes in more civil places. Meanwhile, time had flowed, and it remained 150b in one of my tanks, 170 in the other. I had to go back without using the second reel. Important margins are needed because in addition to the possible failure of one tank or one regulator, it is possible to get lost or to get entangled. Going back takes a long time in surroundings of poor visibility. I had formed a ring with my hand into which I let slip the guideline. It was quite slack, and I had to avoid to lose it. After the breakdown room, conditions improved, but I continued to be very careful with the guideline up to a place where I knew that I could allow myself to be less cautious. I could cease to have a firm grip on the guideline not only because of psychological reasons. Water was clearer in a place where my motion was quicker. Once outside the cave, except the fact I was slightly cold, it appeared that I had encountered no other difficulty. It was a dive of duration 91 minutes for a consumption equivalent to 3,200 litres at surface. The mean speed was 12.3 metres per minute.

Making notes of all the numerical parameters can be regarded as a boyish trend. At that time, it was also a means of continuous improvement.

10 September 2002: Last Sunday, the department of Ardèche has encountered high rises, and those who explore there are in trouble. But here, the weather was nice, except this morning. Jean-Luc’s wife has explained to me by phone that some showers happened. When I have arrived near the Grande Fontaine, the pond was brown and the visibility was null. But the water level was low, and the small resurgences downstream were clear. It was very probable that only the surface water had been troubled by the showers, so I decided to dive.

I used a rope in the entrance. It was compulsory with the vanishing visibility. Inside the cave, the visibility was better. I wore a wet suit, and I had encountered some troubles. The inflator of my buoyancy compensator didn’t work properly. Afterwards, I have found a small pebble inside. The regulator of my stage tank also didn’t work properly, and my back tanks were not well positioned! With a wet suit, the main problem remains the loss of heat. I arrived at my terminus in bad physical and psychological conditions, and I just prospected around it with my safety reel. I didn’t lay any new guideline. The water temperature was 11 degrees Celsius. When I went out of the pond with a strange feeling, it’s as if I was dazzled by white snow.

The results of this dive weren’t important, but I have increased my knowledge. The breakdown room is rather a large joint even if it is followed by a scree. How was it possible to find the continuation with a very low visibility? I can confirm that the frightening noise of bubbles is due to a joint. At the vertical of each joint, I have observed that debris are always transported by water at right, not at left, but I have no explanation.

14 September 2002: Grande Fontaine again. The visibility into the entrance pond was still low. I laid 105 metres of guideline. The conduit continues with few natural anchors. One can find clay blocks. It suggests that during a certain period, the cave has not been flooded. The clay has become dry enough to break into blocks. I saw also some kind of stalactites. I do not believe that they are roots coming from the surface. The conduit keeps the same shape with a ceiling obviously corroded by water and a floor covered by a thick layer of clay. Its height is 1.5 metres, and its width is 2.5 metres.

Just before the tag 220 metres along the guideline, a narrow passage seems to develop from the left bank. Just before the second narrow section, there seems to exist an upward continuation at the right bank. Due to technical adjustments, I spent only 45 minutes in order to reach my terminus, with a mean speed of 15 metres by minute. The total duration was 107 minutes for a mean speed of 14 metres per minute.

Because of the wet suit, I was exposed to an important loss of heat. I was on the brink, just at the threshold of what was bearable. At the end of the dive, I have been obliged to be very careful in order to avoid cramps and to control my breathing pace. Now the Grande Fontaine develops more than 750 metres, and I have made 600 metres of première. It is a great happiness to be stealth, to share these results only with Jean-Luc, Nathalie and her brother Richard.

24 September 2002: Grande Fontaine. Seventy-two metres of première. The conduit remains at 7 metres depth, and its section decreases (2 metres times 1.5 metres). It is very muddy with a poor visibility. Where I stopped, the floor rose and the ceiling went down. Is it the end? Just before, there is an ascending part at left bank, which is to inspect. Perhaps this conduit is muddy because it is becoming inactive? Perhaps other active conduits are to search elsewhere? Diving the 200 last metres before the terminus has been difficult, for the visibility was poor. Few anchors were available for the guideline, except the handles of the two reels I have left. I had rented a dry suit. ‘Learning’ it underground took me a dozen of minutes, and entering into the cave has been less easy. But my consumption was only 17 litres per minute compared to 20 litres per minute with the wet suit. This dry suit allowed me a dive of duration 138 minutes without too important heat loss. Sometimes, during the incursion, I have thought of the problems I encounter regarding the milieu of caving. Some people don’t want me to become a caver, perhaps because I would be more useful for them as a scuba diver. They don’t regard me as a true caver, and they do their best to exclude me of the federal structures. Anyway, I will never go back to scuba diving, and nobody will prevent me to become a complete caver!

I keep a very beautiful sight of the evening after having dived. I looked at the surface of the pond, and like in a mirror, I saw the blue sky with a crown of golden leaves. This sight is a brief and intense moment of happiness. It is worth to remember contrary to the numerous political nonsenses.

I visited Jean-Luc Armanini, and he offered me a cup of coffee. We discussed about the dive and about some publications he has written. I regard him as a very wise and experienced caver. Having now his friendship is a great honour.

Time has passed since 2002, and the Exurgence du Pas Saint-Martin is the first sump I have dived and forgotten. I remembered this cave only when I have opened my diary more than 11 years later. During the dive, my future wife Nathalie was waiting at the entrance of the cave. Caving in Meuse has been also a time of collective caving (Pictures 5.4, 5.6, 5.7 & 5.12 to 5.22), with many positive and negative interferences.

I went one time in Meuse with another cave diver from Paris region. This boy was a monitor of cave diving, and I had had him as an instructor during the training session described in the first chapter. We dove the downstream sump of the Rupt du Puits, the sump of the Bézerne, the sumps of the Dhuy of Bettaincourt, and we also saw other caves. Afterwards, I have a very reserved feeling regarding these dives. We were two people at the same time in a cave. In case of problem, for instance with the guideline, our safety margins were very small. I remember a poor visibility (except at the Dhuy) and the fact I was always behind him. Obviously, there was a shift between what was taught during training sessions and what was really done. I do not agree with such shifts. Regarding physics as well as cave diving, I have always taught what I really did or thought.

I have also dived with this boy in other places, in other French sumps, for instance the Source du Diable in the Vercors. I have given him more information and more means than he has given me, even if he has helped me one time to carry tanks in a cave. The peak has been when I have started to dive the Source de l’Orbiquet in Normandy. We were in a situation where I drove the car, and he dived! It has been difficult, but I have stopped things. I was very troubled by this situation, and I remember having fuelled my car with petrol in place of fuel oil. It has been very difficult to recover this mistake. I still do not understand why this boy was better regarded than I. I still don’t understand why, within some exploration projects, ‘one’ has given him more things to explore. Jealousy had certainly a big a place in my thoughts, but this jealousy had very concrete bases, and I regret nothing.

With Nathalie and her brother Richard, we had created a caving club, the Rhînapi. The fact of being an individual member of the ‘French Federation of Speleology was judged lower than belonging to a club. So creating a tiny club was an attempt to go along with the expectations of the majority of cavers and at the same time to preserve our individualities. Such a preservation is more difficult if you subscribe to a pre-existing club, for it will superimpose its own culture on your character. Even if the Rhinâpi club has disappeared and if I have gone back to my fate and to the status of individual member, we have had many happy moments. It was particularly true in Meuse. Among these happy moments, I remember an attempt of digging we have made in order to penetrate a sinkhole near the Béva. Even if the sinkhole was too narrow and the clay above too plastic, we found many big calcite crystals. We visited a lot of underground quarries, and we visited also some shafts in a place named Bois Communal (Pictures 5.21 & 5.22). From a quantitative point of view, this place holds the record of density of penetrable caves. In one shaft, we had made fractionation using two pitons, but due to the poor quality of the limestone, the two pitons failed. By chance, the rope was also tied to a tree. This has been a very fine ‘in the field’ teaching, and it had nothing in common with the official curricula. I also remember an underground rambling in the Rupt du Puits we made with my future wife Nathalie (Picture 5.6). We were interested by nothing else, and we had woken up very early just to spend one day in the Meuse. She was exhilarated when she fell in a pothole in the underground brook despite the coolness of water. I was also exhilarated by our underground wilderness. In addition, we brought back nice pictures.

Once, we went in Meuse with my brother-in-arms Denis, one of his close friends Lubin (Picture 5.23), Nathalie, and one Swedish friend named Léna. This was a spring weekend. Some of us had to choose between a federal meeting and the Meuse, and they had preferred Meuse’s clay. I had started an artificial climb inside a cave where, perhaps, a meander leading to another part of the cave was to discover. Denis and Lubin had gone in this part of the cave in order to evaluate if a digging using small quantities of explosives was interesting. But they had found nothing interesting, and their advice was to stop things. I accepted their arguments. Even if they were less interested by Meuse than I was, I think they were very good and honest cavers. Denis had motivations to do caving that were quite different from mine, and this complementarity allowed more friendship than a rivalry about the same goals and objectives. Anyway, he had given me several pieces of valuable advice at different periods. As a technical advisor for cave rescue, he had always done his best. I strongly regret that other cavers prefer caving politics to caving engineering. In addition to other differences, I had been despised by certain cavers because I was regarded as Denis’s friend: this is a great honour.

Picture 5.1: Map overview of the Rupt du Puits and the Béva. The “dry” caves are in black and the surveyed sumps in blue. I did several solo incursions and dives in the upstream sumps of the Rupt du Puits. I made also a solo incursion in the Béva, where my dive was shortened by an incident.

Picture 5.2: A part of the material I used to dive the upstream sumps of the Rupt du Puits. Mist is unavoidable, this is more action shot than aesthetic photograph.

Picture 5.3: A small cascade cuts the underground brook. When arriving closer and closer to such an obstacle, reverberation gives it a great imaginary power. One can see two kind of strata, this isn’t the sheer limestone which can be found in other massifs.

Picture 5.4: Nathalie lights the underground brook.

Picture 5.5: A pothole in the Rupt du Puits. When Nathalie fell in such a pothole, we both were exhilarated because we felt free.

Picture 5.6: Nathalie in the Rupt du Puits

Picture 5.7: The artificial shaft of the Rupt du Puits. The lid (at left) has been removed in order to equip and drop down.

Picture 5.8: The pond of the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne.

Picture 5.9: My survey of the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne.

Picture 5.10: Surface map overview of the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne and other related caves.

Picture 5.11: Some notes I made just after a dive. It is very important to process the information as soon as possible, for making notes underwater in uneasy and one’s memory can fail.

Picture 5.12: With Nathalie and her brother Richard, we visited a lot of underground quarries. Here, we made a photograph of an old truck. We used remote flash lights and an argentic camera of the Russian brand “Zenit.”

Picture 5.13: Nathalie admires some concretions. They formed afterwards, once rock has been exploited.

Picture 5.14: Richard lights the surface of an underground reservoir. The ambiance is an eerie mix of pure nature (the mineral world of rock and water) and man’s footprint (the reservoir has been built by people who are no longer here).

Picture 5.15: I made a survey of this reservoir located inside a quarry. I entered a ventilation stack with all my material.

Picture 5.16: In order to avoid a collapse of the ceiling, rubble is often piled in the places where exploitation has proceeded.

Picture 5.17: According to time, seasons, and other parameters, the light which penetrates underground has a wide range of tinges… This weird green is due to late spring leaves.

Picture 5.18: According to time, seasons, and other parameters, the light which penetrates underground has a wide range of tinges… One is dazzled by the sheer blue.

Picture 5.19: The quarry intersects a natural cave. The photograph has been made using an acetylene lamp as light.

Picture 5.20: Inside the natural cave. Nathalie uses a flash light, with colder tinges as a result.

Picture 5.21: The Bois Communal. It contains a large number of caves by unit of surface even if they aren’t clearly visible from outside. With fifty pits each twenty metres deep, one could reach the threshold of minus thousand metres!

Picture 5.22: A cave of the Bois Communal. They are all muddy and narrow, classical bolts are difficult to use.

Picture 5.23: Denis and Lubin, they are among the best cavers I know.

CAVING, LIFE AND DEATH

The fact is very well described by many authors, for instance May Sinclair in A Journal of Impressions in Belgium. Sometimes, especially at first sight, when you face very dangerous situations, you don’t immediately realise. Sometimes you experience things as if they were just interesting or amazing. You don’t realise at all that these things can have a deep and even definitive impact on you. This has been the case when I was a beginner.

I enjoy life, and I am very happy to be alive. The fact this wonderful thing, or state, is limited, with its beginning and its ending, rather enhances things. Practising caving has been a fashion to identify and deeply understand what is important and interesting and what isn’t. Caving, more than other parts of life, allowed me to cease to be a teenager. Practising caving has also been a fashion to realise that if life has many facets, death can also present many facets. Beyond physical death, there exist several kinds of social death, which are nonetheless serious.

The most obvious difference between conscious life and material death is the process, probably a percolation transition, that makes the set of all your neurons and other cells of your body more than the sum of its parts. Consciousness emerges, and that is ‘you’. Recent scientific and philosophical studies show that consciousness at different quantitative levels has emerged not only in the human species. It has also emerged in some animals such as dolphins, apes, crows and many others. This is a very good illustration of the fact that not being able to communicate with someone does not imply this person is devoid of consciousness. During a period, I have had many discussions with some fellows cavers. According to one of them, art was what makes men so different from animals. He probably thought that man, and him especially, has the exclusive privilege of his consciousness. His view did not take into account, for instance, the behaviour of several species of birds whose cocks compose works of art with coloured pebbles in order to seduce females. I believe that giving one’s consciousness a prominent or absolute place is a mistake, very common in the Western culture.

One of the reasons of this belief is that consciousness, ‘culture’ to a certain extent, develops and evolves with time. Consciousness is an assembly of interacting ideas which evolve with time. If your consciousness of today could discuss with your consciousness of 10 or 50 years ago, they would probably disagree each other. As the you of today has to win the discussion, you must give your present consciousness the more prominent place. Having brushed death has increased my respect to any conscious life. I have also been more aware of the fact I changed, and I have learnt to tolerate my own changes. I regard all that as a great chance, which isn’t given to everybody.

Another part of life is the social one, and it deals also with consciousness. Being permanently alone, without social relationship, would be something awful (as well as it is something very different from solo caving during a limited moment). To a certain extent, being really alone implies the disappearance of spoken and written language, hence very probably the disappearance of any structured idea. The exchange of ideas by means of structured spoken and written language is perhaps what makes a distinction between mankind and other animals having consciousness.

According to the famous philosopher Hannah Arendt, man exists in another fashion than being simply a member of his species. She explains very well this concept in a chapter entitled ‘The Concept of History’ of her book Between Past and Future. Man can escape from the cyclic time of reproduction precisely because he has a biography, with its beginning and its end, and because this biography can survive his physical disappearance

This defines another fashion to exist and disappear: if you have no biography or if someone succeeds to erase your biography, you no longer exist. This is very probably one of the motivations to write the present book. With a continuous graduation, this is why I describe and name only some people I have met in the milieu of caving. Retaliation is neither my aim nor in accordance with my outlook, but it is very difficult, from a biographic point of view, to practise something else than reciprocity.

Falling in a Pit

Coming nearer to the void and the height has been very important and is still very important to me. When I was a young boy, I was not at ease in such surroundings. I was more fit for water (Picture 6.1) as already suggested. I owe to my parents the fact I was accustomed with mountains before starting caving. But it was rather an accustoming to mountainous landscapes than sheer height. Due to different reasons, caving has been the only possible way for me to discover and enjoy void and height (Picture 6.2 & 6.5). The way I followed hasn’t been a straight one. It has been something very sinuous and sometimes thinner than a hair. Sometimes I went on, and sometimes, afraid, I went back. Dropping down a pit can be very impressive, and at the same time, this is one of the safest means I know to immerse oneself into sheer verticality, emptiness as well as height. This is very impressive because on the contrary of mountaineering you are not in close contact with rock. You are not in an aircraft with a metallic floor below your feet. You cannot bail out; you have no corolla above you. At the same time this is very safe because, once the technical knowledge is acquired, you move along a rope that is a part of a set of elements where any possible failure has been anticipated. Inside a well-equipped pit, in case of failure, there is no shock, no surprise, just perhaps a little swing if an anchor fails.

I had read some books and foreseen that this activity was more methodical, clearer than other vertical activities. I was looking for something where the approach of void wasn’t intuitive but very conscious and thoroughly made. I could as well write that when practising caving, dropping down pits is a necessity to reach a higher order goal. In other words, dropping down a pit, as well as diving in a sump, is not a goal by itself. The goal is at a larger scale, for instance understanding the cave or doing première. I knew very well that, on the contrary of other activities I had practised, I would have to bear unpleasant sensations. Learning in such a context is more delicate, for there is less synergy between pleasure and reason.

I have learnt by myself the essential of vertical techniques because of this absence of synergy as well as to balance the fact I was regarded foremost as a scuba diver. Many people could state this is very unsafe and that I am an unsafe man. But I repeat that it was the only possible way to progress: sheer height, full immersion without free air and other related activities deal more with primal fear than knitting or playing chess. In order to learn such an activity with other people, either you must already have a whole intuitive knowledge or it must exist a kind of empathy. Regarding water and diving, I had the intuitive knowledge. Regarding the vertical activity and the kind of problem I had to solve, I had no intuition. I already have had problems with a guide when mountaineering, and so I was not sure that finding a proper teacher of ‘vertical activities’ was possible. Finding a teacher perfectly able to put himself/herself at the place of pupils is common only for common activities. On the contrary, I was sure that a wrong teaching would quickly lead me to give up. I was very motivated— ‘I wanted’. I never had taken the risk to give up, hence my uncommon fashion to learn by myself.

I have tried to be involved into real vertical collective projects only after having reinforced my approach of height. When I write ‘reinforced’, it means not only dropping down one or two pits. During the end of the winter 2001–2002, in a solo attempt, I have equipped the Igue de Planagrèze up to its bottom and carried out a dive into the upstream sump (Picture 6.3). My equipment was highly perfectible (Picture 6.4), but reliable enough. Otherwise, I would not able to write this now! It means that in addition to moving myself in the cave, I had to carry alone a cumbersome diving equipment. I am not Superman. The attempt took me several days, and I used only four-litre tanks, which are very light. The dive allowed me just to travel the first perched sump, which is quite shallow and short.

As a digression, it is worth to tell more about the cave. The Igue de Planagrèze is a shaft in the French department called Lot. Very roughly, its entrance is a 70-metre pit with (at least) one fractionation. After that, one finds another series of pits totalling about 40 metres, which are more fractionated. This series allows to land near the entrance of the upstream sump. Regarding northern sumps, it is very pleasant and beautiful. Its water has the transparency of crystal and is thirteen degrees Celsius warm. It is at -110 metres and is a ‘perched sump’. Water flows down through an impenetrable part of the cave and reaches a downstream sump below. This sump is at -180 metres and can be reached by a series of pits, which develop into very corroded and beautiful limestone. I had chosen this cave because it was the simplest and the more adapted to my goals. Later, with Denis Langlois and other friends, we have come back to this cave in order to dive more seriously. Denis has dived several times, and we have worked together beyond the first and second sumps. This endeavour developed in a context of rivalry, for another team was also exploring the deep parts of the upstream sump. The leaders were well-known in the milieu of cave diving, and I still don’t understand, regarding their reputation, why they had not chosen a more difficult and complex cave.

Another problem I encountered during my learning of vertical techniques is that I was obliged to lead the members of the tiny club we had created with Nathalie and her brother Richard. They have personalities different from mine, and this has led sometimes to the fact that I had to do for them things I was not able to do for myself with a great ease. This kind of situation has happened, happens, and will probably happen forever in many clubs. To a certain extent, it is regarded as more normal than learning alone (Picture 6.5). However, I think it is by far less safe. In conjunction with other human problems, such a situation has led Nathalie’s brother and myself to brush death.

During the summer 2002, we went in the Vercors, a mountainous area symmetric of the Chartreuse massif, with the city of Grenoble in between. We wanted to attend the caving festival of La Chapelle en Vercors. Many cavers from different social origins, different technical levels, different clubs and countries were concentrated in a small area. During this festival, movies were projected, and there was a competition with different awards for different kinds of films. Some caves were equipped in order to be easily visited by cavers. Other caves were not equipped.

Some months ago, in a solo attempt, I had equipped a cave named Scialet de la Fée Anglaise (English Fairy Shaft), and I had dived the lake, which was in the bottom, in order to verify that there was no continuation. This day we wanted to visit the Scialet du Pot du Loup (Wolf’s Pot Shaft), but it was already overcrowded by two or three other clubs. The lodge was noisy and uncomfortable, so I was nervous. Nathalie and Richard were also nervous. The last day we had only made rambling with Nathalie, and now I wanted something harder. Nathalie was resting at lodge, and there were only two persons: Richard and me. As the Pot du Loup was not possible, I eventually decided to come back to the Fée Anglaise with Richard.

The entrance opened in a wood and was quite narrow. When we arrived, a piece of wood lay over the entrance and seemed to have been recently used by another team. So I tied the rope on it and started the descent. I had not started by a guideline, for there was no risk to slip and fall. The rope was tied only to this object. Richard was waiting outside the pit. Below the entrance, this pit had moist and glittering walls with some narrow parts and some larger sections. When I was dropping down, I suddenly felt a kind of quiver on the rope. Immediately, I thought that the wood above was breaking. I stopped and tried to explain to Richard what to do, knowing we had little time:

- Richard, please clutch your lanyard into the loop of the rope!

- What?

- Richard … clutch … your lanyard … into the … loop of the rope!

- That’s done.

- Are you OK?

- Yes!

- I will ascend and come back. Something is wrong.

As soon I started to ascend, I heard a crack and fell. Instinctively, I succeeded to stop myself in a narrow part of the pit, about two metres below. I had just a very light pain at hips and elbows. I remember having shouted some swear words. After that:

- Richard, are you OK?

- Yes. The wood has got broken. What must I do?

- I do not understand. If your lanyard was clutched into the loop of the rope, why this fall?

- I exactly did what you said.

- OK. Tie the rope to the tree near the entrance.

- That’s done.

- OK. I’ll ascend and go out.

This was a problem of implicit communication. I expected he would stand near the entrance and act as a human anchor in addition to the wood. But he hadn’t understood. He had entered in the pit and hung himself to the trunk on which the rope was tied! With his weight in addition to mine, the wood had instantaneously broken. I brushed death and he too. When connected to the same rope with no more anchors, like in some mountain situations, the fall of one implies the fall of the other.

We went back to the lodge and told the whole story to Nathalie. We were no longer nervous, and we all spent a delightful evening. I had realised this blunder only from a technical point of view. The day after, we went to the Scialets Neufs (New Shafts, in French there is also a game with the number nine). This cave was equipped because of the festival, but we had laid our own rigs in parallel when it was possible. This was a vertical cave, and even if it was not very deep (less than 400 metres), it afforded some technical complexity. I remember very well a narrow section in which I tore a kit bag. We dropped down the terminal pit of depth more than 60 metres with great ease.

Only later and back home, I have felt the first emotional consequences of the blunder. What I had made was in accordance with the principles developed in one book about techniques of alpine caving I recently had read. But this was a blunder, not only a mistake, and I think I am the only responsible. I had either to take into account that we were two people and make an adapted equipment, which anticipated even the strangest failure, or to explain to Richard that I was not yet able to equip pits with him. If I had been alone, I had very probably installed a guideline.

Being too confident and having too much self-confidence belongs to the same categories of problems than primal fear. It renders less safe and prevents the right action being done at the right moment. According to my experience, the best is to be in a mood of very slight fear. This hadn’t been the case.

Each night, I had the same nightmare, during which I fell endless. Some days in my job, in the stairs that led to the third floor, I was overcome with fear. This was the same thing when I had to close a window. Recovering has been difficult, but step by step, the nightmares have become less frequent. During the spring of 2003, I went in the south of France, in Ardèche, and I equipped alone the Aven Despeysse. This is one of the vertical entrances that allows to penetrate the complex network of a cave named Grotte Saint Marcel. I laid ropes into several pits without emotional problems. This has been a new stage in my learning of vertical caving. I had equipped alone, but I had invited Denis Langlois and other people to visit the cave afterwards. As a specialist, Denis improved my equipment and explained to me many interesting things. The most interesting in Denis’s speech is that a whole coherent philosophy of equipment underlies beneath each clear punctual explanation. This is very different from a recollection of clear punctual explanations based on false hypothesis or devoid of interrelationships. Denis belongs not to the category of stubborn instructors. I used mainly iron links and thick nine-millimetre ropes ‘because they were cheaper’. In addition to explain that ‘the rope can be tied to only one anchor if it is reliable’, one of the books I had read explained that a good equipment had to save up material. Denis’s philosophy was deeper and better weaved. One aspect of this philosophy regarding equipment is that comfort and reliability are linked together. In order to fulfil both requirements, sometimes it is better to add some material or to use more expensive but handsomer items. In addition to the ideas themselves, a consequence is that I have begun the extensive use of Dyneema (this thin material of 5.5-millimetre diameter is extremely resistant, especially to rubbing) and of lighter screw-less carabiners, which are by far easier to open and to close than links. Few months later, I tried for the first time thinner ropes of eight-millimetre diameter in a shaft of Meuse. I have also acquired a ratchet wrench, handsomer and quicker to screw and unscrew bolt hangers. Some years later, one of my friends has told me that regarding my vertical skills, I was haughty. If it is true, this is not because I regard myself as better than other people. This is rather because, in order to reach the same level, it has been by far less easy. Many other people would probably have given up; not everybody prefers difficult things and endeavours.

Getting Lost in a Sump

One of the instructors I had met in a training session of cave diving was accustomed to leading explorations in Mexican sumps of Yucatan. He had carried back a lot of results. The length of his premières was reckoned using kilometres rather than metres. He was at the centre of a team that involved members of his club as well as other people. All that was quite impressive. More precisely, on the one hand, there existed impressive data. On the other hand, there existed beliefs and opinions that were held by cave divers. The reputation of this project was fitting into a context of rivalry and political problems among cave diving commissions of different regions and between the federation in charge of caving and the one in charge of diving. Eventually, it was said that participation to expeditions abroad was very important if one wanted to be a true cave diver. It was also said that people from Paris’s region were specialists of that kind of caving.

With more than 12 years of perspective, I regard this situation as a very hot context, where social recognition had a greater importance than personal fulfilment. Today I wouldn’t subscribe to such a process and would withdraw immediately. But in March 2003, I went to Mexico with Nathalie in order to participate to the exploration project. We spent two weeks there. Things appeared to be difficult as soon as we landed. I prefer to think that I am the only responsible because of my character. As aforementioned, it has the shape of a star, with peaks and hollows. In Mexico as in other places, it has happened sometimes that I had a deep overview of the situation and that I was perfectly able to manage things even if I was regarded as a newbie. The contrary has also frequently happened, and sometimes I have really been unable to understand things ‘that were understandable by everybody’. It created many relationship problems.

Since 2003, I have learnt the best fashion to manage things when I have a deep understanding of problems or situations not well understood by other people. I have also become a specialist of withdrawing. This is not cowardice or weakness. This is just the best fashion to spare time and energy. In order to be regarded as a leader in a given situation at a given moment, you must be better than other people, but you must resemble them. You have to represent an ideal: slightly better is perhaps the right word. It is difficult for me to develop such a profile. I do it only scarcely, when there is money to earn or something else really vital. But during this journey of 2003, I had not fully developed my withdrawing skills. Sometimes, especially when I received orders that I regarded as too coarse or when I felt I was regarded as dumb, I was in great trouble. In addition, machismo perspired from certain members of the team.

This kind of problem is very well described by the great climber Lynn Hill in her book Climbing Free. In a chapter entitled ‘First Contact’, she asks herself the question whether it is important for women to capitulate in order to keep the peace. I have noticed in several situations, inside the milieu of caving as well as outside, that people prefer to impose their views than enter in an optimisation process that truly takes into account the other person’s view.

As a digression, again, it is worth to describe the landscape and caves of the Yucatan. This is a karst that has features very different from continental karsts. The whole peninsula is made of limestone of tertiary era, young and quite porous. It is close to the sea, so this porous material is invaded by salted water. Due to rain, fresh water seeps into the rock until it reaches the salted water, which is denser. Both water cannot mix quickly, and so, at the scale of the karst, freshwater can literally float and flow above salted water, leading to what is called Ghyben Herzberg lense by specialists. The corrosion of limestone is maximal at the interface between fresh and salted waters: caves form mainly at this level. In Yucatan, it often creates long shallow networks that are mainly flooded. The hierarchy of these underground networks is very special. In place of the tree structure, which is common in Europa, one finds more frequently something that looks like a maze. This is not the quadrangular maze of some gypsum caves; it has rather a spongy structure. One penetrates into the sumps from the seashore or from inland holes named cenotes. In the case of blue holes in Bahamas or other places, some sumps are very deep, for the caves have formed at a period where the sea level was more than 100 metres below the actual. But in the part of Yucatan, we explored caves that have probably formed during another period. Anyway, they are shallower.

A technical and human consequence of these geological specificities is the equipment. Cenotes are explored mainly by American or Mexican people. They used to mark their guidelines with one knot each ten feet, which is quite unusual for European cave divers accustomed to guidelines with tags. The guidelines are not oriented towards the root of the tree, which would also be the exit, but towards the nearest free surface. The water is often very clear, transparent, warm, about twenty degrees Celsius. It allows to dive using a wet suit, as well as it gives a false sense of safety. Carrying tanks is also different. Here, one finds mainly aluminium tanks that are lighter underwater, heavier ashore.

Our leader was obsessed by a very long sump, in which he made several dives of very long duration. Because of the temperature, he used a shabby wet suit. Perhaps it was a matter of fashion in addition to being the best adaptation to surroundings. He carried two tanks on his back and two or three stage tanks. I have respect for what he made. More widely, I have more respect for long-distance cave diving than for a very deep cave diving requiring a lot of gas mixes, tanks, and decompression stops for a shorter distance. The border between cave diving and underground tec diving is perhaps in-between.

I succeeded also to make some explorations. I dove more than one kilometre far from the entrance of a cenote where première and survey had to be done. Nathalie did a little a bit of diving in the pond, swam a lot and enjoyed the sun. As an illustration of my differences, I have thoroughly listened and applied some instructions about the guideline in the aforementioned cenote, where I succeeded the missions, but I have been less impressed by the jungle than other members of the team. When I was young, with my parents, we sometimes rambled and picked up wood in forests, which were French but thicker than Mayan jungle (Picture 6.6). When I heard that I had to be careful with possible jaguars, I just took a shovel with me before entering beneath the trees to do what I had to do (not a survey but a more personal task). Once, when we were looking for a cenote, we met local people with machetes in their hands. Some members of our team believed that if we asked more questions, we would be injured or even killed, so they imposed to go back. Later, with Nathalie and only two other French people, in the forest, we met an old man with a gun. This time, we had not been obliged by the rest of the team to go back. A smile and a drawing we made on a paper had been enough to explain us and to be allowed to continue. I remember that his first name was Lucio.

The two weeks of the expedition were different. The first one was purely devoted to exploration. At the end of this week, our leader went back to France with two other divers. The second week, the team was reduced to four people: another diver and his girlfriend, Nathalie and me. Our leader was probably slightly in trouble because he had to cope with opposite tendencies: he and some of us were pure explorers, and other had different motivations. At least, they were regarded as having different motivations. It had been planned that this second week would be more devoted to sightseeing. We had visited Mayan temples and pyramids, and we also dived in tourist sumps. I suggested that we went back to a sump into which we had begun some explorations and succeeded to dive it again. For Nathalie and me, the most interesting has been the contact with a ‘developing country’, which was also a part of the ancient Spanish empire. We visited a place where a village was split into two opposite parts by a straight road. It was striking. On the shore side, new guarded hotels took place, and the entrance was allowed only for rich clients. On the inland side, there was a traditional pueblo with untidy white walls, corner shops with merchandise and so forth. One side was inhabited by white-skinned people; the other side was dwelt by browner-skinned people. This day, I have begun to realise what means really underdevelopment. It was not a conscious process, and it needed other journeys to rise at the full level of consciousness. I have begun to understand how pernicious mechanisms can keep underdevelopment going, even in some places of our Western countries. I have understood that underdevelopment and unhappiness are two different things even if they are sometimes correlated. I have also begun to understand why, to a certain extent, I was regarded as underdeveloped and exploited by certain people not only in the field of caving. It has been a very quick and a very deep lesson of political philosophy and self-construction (Picture 6.7). Even if we didn’t speak Spanish, even if we had few socialisation, I have immediately felt a kind of empathy with people of the inshore side. It will last forever. This has become one of the multiple non-Western facets of my character. I have brushed death during the end of the first week. Once again, the emotional consequences of that incident have arisen later back in France. Before this incident, I was in trouble because of the aforementioned personality clashes. Precisely, I wished to do more exploration and less diving into already-known caves. Looking for caves in the jungle would have been more interesting. I was more interested in ‘small’ sumps or even ‘dry caves’ somewhere in a newly discovered place than in classical sumps. However, with another diver, we had to dive a big sump whose entrance was underwater. This sump was already known and had been explored; it opened inside a tourism park (Picture 6.8).

Telling how the story continues is uneasy. I have nothing to conceal, but I still don’t correctly remember some details. Even after more than a dozen of years, I still don’t fully understand. Falling endless in a pit is awful, but if I had to choose, I would prefer to fall or to be killed by a falling slab than to get drowned. Brushing that kind of death is very traumatic; this is perhaps one of the two reasons of this partial oblivion. I have become an even tougher character.

The entrance of the cave was wide. I started after the other diver, and I well remember we crossed when he went back few minutes after I entered the cave. I was in a hurry because I wanted to escape people, the members of the team as well as other people. I have laid my own guideline in order to reach the main guideline farther in the cave. I have not started my guideline ashore for a very precise reason: I wanted to avoid the risk it would be plucked by tourists. I remember also having started this guideline in a place where light fully penetrated, daylight with only a rim of shadow around. I have progressed in the cave, thoroughly identifying crossings with other guidelines. I thoroughly marked the forks and thoroughly observed the surroundings. When necessary, I laid guidelines in order to observe places too far from the main guideline.

Of course, I have found nothing interesting from a caving point of view. I went back. When I arrived to the beginning of my guideline, I found myself in the darkness, without daylight or other hint indicating the exit. I turned off my lamps in order to identify any twilight but detected nothing. My next reaction after turning on the lights was to perform a quick calculation. I had enough air for about two hours before dying. I went back towards the distant part of the cave. Perhaps what I recognised as my own guideline was another guideline. Perhaps I just made a mistake regarding a fork. I spent about 20 minutes looking for another guideline looking like mine but found nothing. So I went back to the beginning of what I assumed to be my guideline, tied a reel on it and started to search the exit in the direction I had written on my pad when entering the cave. Ten minutes after, I was outside, and I could swim at the surface and breathe without a regulator.

Once again, I prefer to think I am the only responsible. This time, I have had few or no nightmares. Simply during at least one year, I have been not at ease when diving. The stage of the drama was inner, and nothing happened outside. Sometimes I suffered panic attacks. I had to concentrate myself on the tags, distance indications and other arrows in order to recover. I have never said anything to anybody, and I have never over-consumed my air.

Encountering primal fear not only in vertical surroundings but also in aquatic surroundings has been a kind of balance. It is also the inception of a paradox. On the one hand, I strongly recommend to any cave diver to be very careful and to avoid this kind of extremely hazardous situation. On the other hand, I started to believe that one cannot be an experimented cave diver if one has never survived that kind of event. This kind of violence is probably a part of the status of ‘veteran’. I remember especially the illogicality of the situation, the fact it was not included inside the tree of potential problems I build each time I am to dive. This is the illogicality that renders the situation dramatic and traumatic. Up to now, I have less encountered this kind of illogic situation during solo practice. Since this awful event, I have got lost only one time. It was in a non-flooded part of a cave after a sump. It was during a period where I was ill and had other problems; after a moment of rest and having thoroughly explored all the possibilities, I found the right passage without further problems.

I have been affected forever by this incident. This has changed my view about ‘international expeditions’. My opinion is very similar to the one of Lynn Hill, which is developed in the chapter entitled ‘White Wind’ of her book Climbing Free. Later, I have made several journeys in Morocco, Libya, Algeria, Germany and Austria; but it has never been a collective and more or less anonymous endeavour with the main aim to plant a flag. What matters is to deal with one’s character in depth.

Getting Ill

Just after coming back from Mexico, I have had another vital problem. One evening, I was preparing my material in order to continue the explorations at the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne in Meuse. Suddenly, I felt a pain in my back and just thought something like ‘That’s tiredness after a hardworking day. After a good night of sleep, I will be fine and ready to start.’ Next morning, very early, I felt a very acute pain. It was by far sharper than the day before, and I was unable to stand up. By chance, Nathalie was close to me. She was still sleeping in our bed, and I succeeded to groan in order to awake her. She realised, or more precisely felt, immediately there was a real problem. She phoned immediately a doctor, who asked her few questions. After some minutes of discussion, he explained that at first sight it was not an infarct and that he will arrive as soon as possible.

We lived in Paris’s suburbs, but this emergency doctor used a motorbike, so he arrived quickly. The situation had worsened. I was even unable to move in the bed. The pain was very acute. It was like to be nailed on the bed (or, with some imagination, to be wounded by a bayonet). In such a situation, you are conscious, but you perceive the surrounding world through a kind of mist, which becomes thicker and thicker. You feel that your level of consciousness is going down to the threshold where it will vanish, perhaps forever. However, I analysed the situation: the most frightening was to disappear without having done all the important things I wanted to do. Dying was less frightening. It is by far less awful in one’s bed than into a flooded cave or crushed by a slab. Anyway, life has always its end. The pain was intense, but it was not the kind of moral pain I had recently encountered in Mexico. Some kinds of physical pain can be weaker than moral pains, particularly those related to illogical situations or situations on which you have no grip.

Nathalie and the doctor sat me with many pillows and blankets between my back and the wall. The pain was more acute even with few motions, breathing being a compulsory motion. But I had no other effort to do by myself, and I became to feel slightly better. The doctor gave me a strong morphine-like analgesic and made some examinations. His diagnosis was, with a high probability, a striking pleurisy. He suggested also that the pleura may have unstuck from the inner rib cage ‘because I was lean’. He prescribed strong antibiotics devoted to this kind of microbial strikes. I vaguely remember having groaned at rough explanations about what I had done (studying caves in Mexico) and about the fact I was not really lean. I also asked Nathalie to serve him a cup of coffee.

- You have perhaps breathed dust infected with bat droppings?

- That’s improbable. We went only one time in a dry cave. We rather dove cenotes.

- Cave diving is a very engaged activity. I would by no means do such a sport! Gas mixes can be dangerous, as well as long decompressions!

- It has a very special image. Sumps are not always very deep. In Mexico, we used just air and had few or no decompression stops. I’m a former scuba diver, but now I prefer this kind of underwater caving. Cave diving as depth record doesn’t interest me.

After having signed the papers, he left us, and Nathalie phoned her job to explain that she would be very late. She took care of me up to noon. I also succeeded to phone my job in order to explain why I was absent and to apologise. However, during this very special morning, I still thought that I could die, and so I took precautions in such an event. As a cave diver and regarding material precautions, it is worth to have good insurances, but that wasn’t the limiting problem.

In the early afternoon, Nathalie has been obliged to leave. None of my close friends were available, so my parents came and transported me for a radiography. Due to analgesics and antibiotics, I was again able to walk even if it was very painful. The doctor who performed the radiography asked me to take a deep breath, but I did not succeed. It was too painful. On the picture, he explained that he saw ‘just a black dot’ at the place where I felt this so acute pain. Twenty-four hours later, I was back at the job. I had stopped to take the morphine-like analgesic, for it prevented me to properly drive a car. I remember that I had to hold myself to the blackboard in order to stand up, but probably, nobody at the job realised what I had. I remember a poem about that:

Success is counted sweetest

By those who ne’er succeed.

To comprehend a nectar

Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host

Who took the flag to-day

Can tell the definition,

So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,

On whose forbidden ear

The distant strains of triumph

Break, agonized and clear!

— Emily Dickinson

It has taken about ten days before being able to start again training, running, swimming and other physical activities. Apnoea was especially difficult, for the pain awoke each time I had to take a depth breath. Having brushed death for the third time has been a catalyst. I couldn’t prevent myself to foresee a link between that and other problems I had with divers or cavers from the Paris area. After these events, I withdrew more deeply. I resigned from the presidency of the Regional Commission of Cave Diving. This was not only a physical withdrawing but also an intellectual one. On the contrary of earth’s surface, the spirit has an infinite strategic depth and you can withdraw as much as necessary. It can happen that people understand there is a problem or regret what they have done. Then it becomes possible to work with them again. It can also happen that withdrawing makes the problem go away. Finally, it can happen that people don’t understand or pretend they don’t understand. Then, withdrawing more and more either let those persons to get lost in problems they are unable to solve or to collapse because of their internal contradictions. Even if many people regard withdrawing as a mistake or a weakness, I think the contrary. If you kept your stance, you would become no more than an additional pad on which people can write their life to the detriment of yours. However, when one withdraws, one induces a breakdown. It isn’t purely intellectual. I’m unable to explain why, but it has often delayed material consequences too, which are at the expense of the opposite party.

I decided to act and to take some important decisions I had postponed. I fully realised what my deep and true motivations were. I also realised that they were incompatible with a certain number of things in which I was involved. I liked cave diving (and I am still in love with it) for itself but also because it was a way to approach height and verticality. In certain caves, there are sumps to dive after several shafts, and height becomes acceptable because it is a necessity.

From a materialistic point of view, resigning from the presidency of the Regional Cave Diving Commission was logical. It didn’t even afford me material facilities; these facilities were reserved for elders or more well-known people! It didn’t even afford me more premières to do! On the contrary, all that politics made for other people or on behalf of them corresponded to a waste of time regarding exploration and personal improvement. I also decided to take some distance with some collective exploration projects where I had the feeling to be abused. However, I decided to continue teaching cave diving, for I was a professional teacher and I regarded propagation of knowledge as something essential. I decided to present the exam of initiator of caving: I thought I had the proper level, and avoiding to be regarded as a scuba diver was very important. During the summer of 2003, all these decisions have developed their positive or negative social and material consequences. This summer has been a summer of deep changes.

First of all, I succeeded to obtain this diploma of caving initiator. The organiser was a very interesting man, with deep knowledge about caves and caving. He was a former cave diver and we shared the same regard for cave diving commissions. I have learnt many interesting things or gained more self-confidence regarding these things. Under his supervision, I have been responsible for teaching survey to other people, and we made a very nice plan and elevation of a part of a neighbouring cave. He suggested to me to try to become quickly a monitor of caving, and I did my best to follow this advice (I have encountered impassable obstacles reported in a further chapter). Later, he invited me on several projects and participated as a teacher to other training sessions. He has also gave me several pieces of valuable information about some caves of the Doubs (this is a French department located at northeast of France). We discussed especially about a sump named Combe du Creux in which he had dived. I strongly regret that our paths got separated because of ‘political’ problems. In addition, in the milieu of caving, it is very difficult to be a friend of two people if they aren’t friends to each other. This is exactly what happened because some of my friends didn’t like Didier.

During the spring of 2004, I participated as a trainee to a session of scientific caving he organised. This was one of the three examinations needed to become a monitor of caving, the other being a technical examination and a pedagogical examination. The session was very interesting because it was something very concrete, in other words ‘on the field’. Several subjects had been proposed to several teams of two, three or four trainees. Two teams had studied scallops in two caves, and the fashion scallops can be used in order to get information about the past flow rates. ‘Scallops’ are marks made when water corrodes rock. Their shape looks like the edible shellfish, and their size depends upon the speed of the stream. One other team had studied the filling of sediments in a cave, the underlying history of their deposit and all the information they can provide. We had to produce a memoir and to present slides. With another boy and my Swedish friend Lena, we were in one of the teams who studied scallops. It has been a moment of happiness, and I have succeeded this first part of the examination. However, during a short moment, I have been outside of the normal range because of the following story. The relationship that gives the size of scallops is known as Curl’s relationship, according to the name of a certain Mr Curl, who was one of the first researchers about this subject. This is an empiric relationship, mostly based on experimental results. During the training session, I had an inspiration. In less than five minutes, I understood how to demonstrate this relationship using theoretical considerations and how to improve it. I tried to explain this to other people, teachers as well as pupils. Of course, I have not been understood, and I have probably been regarded as a fool.

Being Socially Dead

During the summer of 2003, after I had resigned from the presidency of the Regional Cave Diving Commission, I participated as an initiator to a training session organised at the national level. Officially, it was an international session, but certain people had derisively dubbed it ‘intergalactic’. I will explain in a further chapter how and why I have been very disappointed and what happened during and after this training session. What matters here is that I have not succeeded to continue to be involved in the teaching of cave diving. I still strongly regret that. There are few people really able to become cave diver, and it is very important that a place exists where exchanges at a good level are possible. I believe that teaching at the level of a region, a whole country or even many countries is the best fashion to make alive such exchanges. Teaching must be done by experienced people. Being experienced means having encountered engaged situations. It means also to be able to make the distinction between the most important relevant things and other details. Teaching cannot be a speciality different from exploration. One has to be very open and dynamic. Eleven years later, the structure of teaching has evolved in a direction I don’t like. One can find a pyramid of three levels—initiator, monitor and now instructor—for a too few number of motivated trainees. In addition, the teaching seems very normalised and no longer mainly oriented towards exploration. Eventually, I deplore that academic backgrounds are ignored. Cave diving is mainly an engineer’s and scientist’s activity. So I was right to withdraw.

Problems with a Rebreather

Since this summer 2003, as a consequence of my resignation from some institutions and my wish to make more exploration, I have begun to frequent caves of the Doubs. Located at the northeast of France, this department belongs to the region of Franche-Comté and is close to Switzerland. I had worked mainly in the Chartreuse’s massif and in the Meuse, and my projects in these places had temporarily or definitively ended. My future wife enjoyed the Doubs, so we have bought a barn. I have spent more time with concrete, a jackhammer and a dust mask. I have abandoned politics, commissions and endless rivalry stories. Later in the Doubs, I have brushed the death a fourth time at the age of 43. For several reasons, I have to develop by myself some gears I need to explore sumps. If testing gears outside of caves is necessary at least during the early development, it is by far not sufficient. So I have done attempts to test new gears in sumps where the risks of the test add to the risks due to the surroundings or to a failure of the ordinary material. This step of the tests is the most important. Some materials that would be accepted for extra-cave divings have to be rejected and reciprocally. Except Nathalie, I have been despised by the few people who saw my gears. Either they don’t understand the aims, or they look for aesthetics before looking for efficiency. Nevertheless, the vital problem I encountered had absolutely nothing to do with other people and has no social origin.

I had decided to test a rebreather. This material recycles the breathed gases and provides a larger autonomy than classical tanks. I went in a sump I had already explored, and I knew very well. Its entrance is a quite narrow passage, and this day, it was flooded two metres below the free surface of the pond. I had two ordinary back-mounted tanks, the rebreather I wanted to test and a six litres tank to feed it. I bore the experimental material on my side. I had already passed this entrance with the same kind of equipment or with heavier equipment, for instance two 18-litre tanks on the back and two stage tanks. I tested the regulators of the back-mounted tanks and started breathing with the rebreather. When entering the cave, I got blocked in the entrance: impossible to go forwards and also impossible to go backwards! In addition, the valve that fed the rebreather got closed, probably because of rubbing. I was breathing a mix with less and less oxygen. I tried to take one of the regulators of my back-mounted tanks. It turned out that I didn’t succeed to find them despite the fact they were fixed on my necklace as usual. I tried to liberate myself, making huge efforts in order to tear or break something. Nothing happened! In a last attempt—I don’t remember precisely how—I succeeded to slightly move the stage tank and to go backwards. I broke the free surface in apnoea, and several minutes were necessary to recover.

If I had not succeeded to liberate myself, I had died in the same fashion as in Mexico. Nevertheless, I experienced very different feelings, and I was in a different mood. There has been the same part of incoherency, of surprise: why did I not succeed to find my regulators? But here, rather than a long moral torture, it had been a short physical fight. I dare to write ‘close combat’. In addition to possible delayed psychological consequences, I immediately realised that this incident could easily lead me to abandon projects extending over many years. So I quickly readjusted my material and started again. In order to avoid to get blocked anew, I pushed the rebreather at a place of pulling it on my side. I dived a dozen of minutes before the experimental rebreather started to leak and water began to flood the soda lime inside (this stuff absorbs carbon dioxide and must be kept dry). So I decided to come back using the tested gear as long as possible. When it definitively failed, I tried to breathe with one of the regulators which hung on my necklace, but it failed too! I was obliged to use the second regulator and to contort myself in order to close the valve corresponding to the bad regulator. This is necessary to avoid a possible ‘free flow’ that could empty the corresponding tank. Nevertheless, I did not regard this second problem as vital or too risky. It belongs to the category of ‘current’ things one can encounter in sumps. I finished quietly and went back to our barn. Nathalie was waiting for dinner:

- You must know. I have encountered a problem, and I have brushed death. I’m very happy to be here, close to you.

- I had a kind of foreboding. You are slightly late. What happened?

- I got blocked in the entrance with my rebreather. I tried to free myself but didn’t immediately succeed. One minute later and I would be dead.

She smiled and wasn’t very surprised or shocked. Nathalie knows me very well. She prefers that kind of risk to the certitude of having an angry, unsatisfied and unhappy husband at home.

All those events have reinforced my self-confidence. Self-confidence is not a matter of temporarily overestimating oneself and engaging oneself in too difficult things. Many explorers are lucky to come back alive despite their ignorance. Self-confidence is a matter of being conscious of one’s work worth. The more different you are from other people, the less easy it is to build yourself and gain self-confidence. On one hand, it is more difficult to make yours the experiences and examples of other people. On the other hand, people regard what you do with their own eyes and their own aims, which are very different from yours. Either they give pieces of advice that are useful only for them or they despise you. It doesn’t matter.

Being Socially Dead Again

Since my withdrawing, I have never regretted nothing, except the cave rescue. During 2004, I had been asking if I wanted to become cave rescue technical advisor, and my answer had been positive. At that time, all the serious people involved in federal structures at such a level were monitors, especially all those I knew in Paris’s region had such a graduation. My answer underlay the implicit fact of having a normal career and becoming monitor in the next years. This appeared very logical: organising and leading trainings of cave rescue implies teaching rope techniques and managing team organisations at a higher level than the simple teaching of vertical caving to beginners. After having been socially dead as a teacher, it has become compulsory to take some distance from the Paris region’s cave rescue despite the fact that I belonged to a team led by my friend Denis Langlois. In addition, we suffered from a certain trend to normalisation imposed by other people. This prevented us to use thin ropes we preferred for their convenience or to use some other handsome and efficient materials we liked. Things were less and less easy. Even if having said yes is a kind of betrayal, leaving has been a fashion to prevent possible further incidents or accidents due to human problems with stubborn people who don’t want to evolve.

Picture 6.1: (Courtesy of Nathalie Boudinet) Cave diving can sometimes be practised without dropping down series of pits…

Picture 6.2: (Courtesy of Nathalie Boudinet) …whereas sometimes dropping down is necessary. The pit of the Rupt du Puits isn’t very technical but if one wants to dive the upstream sumps one has to practise vertical caving before cave diving.

Picture 6.3: The perched upstream sump of the Igue de Planagrèze. I equipped the pits and dived this sump alone before coming back with some friends for more important dives.

Picture 6.4: I made notes of all the problems I encountered when I equipped pits. I wanted a continuous improvement, this was more serious than leisure even if non-paid.

Picture 6.5: (Courtesy of Nathalie Boudinet) Moving along vertical ropes is a very special activity. On the one hand it is the safest vertical activity I know if things are properly done. On the other hand, it can be very impressive.

Picture 6.6: The quantity of light passing through the leaves and branches shows that the jungle of Yucatan is perhaps impressive for tourists, but is less impenetrable and dangerous than other jungles. It exists tougher forests in Europe.

Picture 6.7: Visiting a developing country is a very interesting human and philosophical experience.

Picture 6.8: Except for rest if I were very tired, I must confess that I’m not interested in Caribbean beaches and other paradises for tourists.

Picture 6.9: A Mayan pyramid. The light is too bright and it renders it ugly. Perhaps a foreboding of imminent death?

THE COMBE DU CREUX

Since 2003, the Doubs has begun my mecca of sumps. Here, one can find many sumps that are tough, difficult, without being very deep. In addition, the weather and the landscape are less attractive for the category of cave divers who want to do technical diving underground, so I have found a stillness impossible to find in more southern regions such as Lot. This isn’t only a matter of sumps and caves. Very simply, Nathalie and I feel at ease here. People are kind and keen. After we have buy a barn during the spring of 2004, we never have been despised by our neighbours as in Paris region.

After the initiator training session, I had been advised to have a look at the Combe du Creux. Viewed from outside, the sump is a pond that lies hidden in a wood, near green meadows in a shallow valley (Pictures 7.1 to 7.4). This is really a pretty place; with a blue sky and sun shafts, it is an invitation to wilderness. The men who dived this cave before I came have made a great job. They have put a ladder in the pond in order to facilitate the descent with heavy tanks. Otherwise, when the water level is low, step slipping in the sand, mud and gravels would be very painful. The risk of being trapped below would be real! They have enlarged a part of the entrance, which was quite narrow. They have laid a thick rope up to the deep horizontal part of the cave. This rope renders decompression stops safer in case of buoyancy problem. Last but not the least, they have laid a guideline and explored the cave up to a fork at about 400 metres from the entrance. The right fork had been explored by them up to moving mud dunes, and the left fork had not been explored.

The first time I went near the cave was 14 September 2003 with Didier, the leader of the initiator training session who was also one of the former explorers. He has been very kind with me and has even helped me to carry some pieces of material. I wasn’t very at ease with such help. Cave divers are by no means superior to other men, and the limit between kindness (it was the case) and deference (it is the case of most people) is thin. What follows is issued from my diary:

I found intact the rope he has laid in 1994. The descent is a succession of steps as Didier explained me. Near its entrance, this cave is quite complex and has probably had a complex story. Especially, there is an impenetrable passage that leads back to the entrance, below the heap of blocks that lies at the bottom of the pond. This passage was lighted by some sun shafts, so it appeared very beautiful as well as very hazardous. After the entrance, the passages are wider. In some places, I encountered a cloudy, milky water, and I have been obliged to turn off one of my lamps. It was too powerful, and the light was too diffused. The depth increased quickly, and I had the surprise to reach -20 metres, having virtually consumed no air. I found a big step. This is a flooded pit that leads to the deep zone. According to what Didier told me, its top also reaches the free surface. I thoroughly verified the rope, looked at the passage and swam down. I arrived to the place where the rope stops, leaving a place to a thinner guideline. A tag that indicated 110 metres was still clearly visible. I stopped at the depth of -50 metres and went back. I did not know the cave and had just two 9l tanks and a wet suit. I was obliged to do some decompression stops in the ten-degree-Celsius water; meanwhile, Didier and one of his sons were outside, waiting for me.

I was still shattered by what happened few months ago in Mexico, and I had also the fear I described. Below in my diary, I have also found the following notes:

- Diving in sumps is something really dangerous, even if it is less impressive than dropping down a deep shaft, even if it is less physical than crawling through a difficult meander. It seems that all the cave divers, except myself, are perfect people. Any of them is always the best, and he never makes any mistake. Perhaps is it because they have a lot of stupid numerical parameters to standardise their relative levels? Perhaps is it because in a sump, mistakes are concealed? They become visible to other people’s eyes only if they cannot be hidden before going out.

- Several cavers specialising in cave diving are frustrated people. Either they are frustrated because they have been rejected from instances of scuba diving or they are frustrated because they are unable to practise vertical caving at a good level.

I was far from the problems I had encountered. Very often, in this cave as well as in other caves of the Doubs, reflections of this kind have arisen in my mind. Healing takes a very long time.

12 October 2003

I am weary because of my job, and I need some mental rest in this sump. The road along the River Doubs between the towns of Beaume les Dames and L’Isle sur le Doubs is beautiful. We are in a season where light is lower and leaves have warmer colours. The water level was one metre higher than during September, and the pond appeared quite opaque. I started with two 12-litre tanks, a 9-litre stage tank and an oxygen tank for the decompression. After entering the cave, I found a part of Didier’s rope replaced by a piece of new dark and green rope with very pedantic eight knots. Who? Why?

During the progression, the visibility was limited. However, I was able to see the guideline, my hands, and a part of the walls. Mud has begun to sediment on the rubber bands I let in September, and there were no traces of those who have installed the new rope. I breathed pure oxygen up to -6 metres after what I closed the tank and let it fixed on the guideline with a screw-less carabiner. I put the other tank at the beginning of the depth zone after what moving has been easier. In addition, in case of problem, this tank had provided a good safety margin regarding decompression stops. I progressed along a double guideline: its two strands were close to each other, only one has flags. I didn’t know very well the cave, so I stopped before having consumed all what would be theoretically possible. My back tanks were full of a mix with 26% oxygen. There is less nitrogen, and at a depth of 50 metres, this is also a limit regarding the toxicity of oxygen. I suffered any narcosis, and my immediate feeling after diving has been ‘doing some première in this cave would be especially interesting. Even simply reaching its actual terminus would be a valuable goal’.

From a geological point of view, it seems that this cave has not always been flooded. One can see some concretions underwater at about -4 metres.

14 April 2004

I got entangled in the deep part of the sump, but I succeeded to solve clearly and quickly the problem. Of course, I have not used the pedantic methods described in some papers. Just after this dive, I went to the notary’s in order to sign in and buy this barn we want.

15 April 2004

I got breathless in the deep part of the sump, but I succeeded to solve the problem. Very probably, narcosis can explain this problem. Perhaps some remembrances of the Mexico have enhanced this problem? Or perhaps is it due to the barn and what it changes in our lives?

We took a weekend during June in order to reorganise my flat in Paris’ Region. It was necessary but very painful. Before we can move and live in our barn, I needed to sort out the mess of all my caving materials. Nathalie was so tired that she had a car accident on the motorway the next Monday. Years later, I still regret this situation because on my side it was egoistic.

10 July 2004

I dove in order to prepare the incursion of tomorrow. I put an oxygen tank at the right place.

11 July 2004

I laid guideline in the passage at right after the fork until the passage became too narrow and too muddy. Then I stopped, went back and laid guideline in the other passage at left. I have stopped because of the runtime and the decompression to do, but I have surveyed the cave when coming back.

Forty-five minutes have been spent in the deep zone, with a consumption rate lower than 13 litres per minute. The consumption rate was lower than 14 litres per minute for the stage tank and lower than 13 litres per minute for the oxygen tank.

20 July 2004

I wanted to try a model of rebreather for further decompressions in the Combe du Creux, but it is not reliable enough, and it leaks. I have to improve the reliability and render it more handsome. This is by far more important than oxygen sensors, blinking LEDs or any possible embedded electronics that seduce all the rivals.

31 July 2004

My father has had important health problems on 20 July, and he has lost a leg. This is a catastrophe for him, for my mother and for our small family. I have moved and visited him to Nice’s hospital. During more than a week, I was unable to do caving because of that… . I have stopped the dive at 420 metres from the entrance in the left branch. My consumption was higher than the last dive but lower than the standard 18 litres per minute. Regarding further dives, I will be obliged to add one stage tank or perhaps two if I am obliged by the size of the passage to use 12 litres main tanks at place of the 18l. It will become a siege.

23 August 2004

I dove with a wet suit and two 12-litre tanks. I wanted to explore what I believed a passage starting at the beginning of the deep zone, but this is just a part of the main passage partly filled by pebbles. I explored another passage that starts at the place where -6-metre oxygen decompression stops are done. It is not very wide, not very clear. After 15 metres, I stopped and fixed the guideline on blocks, perhaps in the bottom of an ascending shaft. It is difficult to be more precise; the visibility had become very poor.

1 November 2004

The pond has risen, and a small brook flows outside. The fields are wet. I hope the water level will decrease before the incursion planned for November 13.

12 November 2004

I dived in order to install two oxygen tanks and also one stage tank at the beginning of the deep zone. The consumption has been lower than 14 litres per minute. I had thick underclothes in my dry suit, and I felt more at ease without narcosis… . I feel a great happiness: Nathalie and I are together in the Doubs. Moreover, I am very happy to dive alone, which means without anybody from any club or official institution.

13 November 2004

I have used two 18-litre tanks, one 12-litre stage tank full of air, one 7.5-litre stage tank full of 45% oxygen gas mix, and two oxygen tanks. The consumption was still low, less than 14 litres per minute and even less than 8 litres per minute during the decompression stops. The temperature was ten degrees Celsius.

I laid guideline up to 480 metres from the entrance and succeeded to pass a clay dune. I stopped at a depth of -39 metres because of the autonomy and because of the fact I have consumed too much guideline. The last metres I have laid are devoid of any label, for they belonged to the safety core of my reel. The perhaps last 30 metres are too close from the axis of the reel to be efficiently rewind. Ordinarily, I try to keep them in case of problem, for instance to solve an entanglement. I spent 160 minutes in the sump. Due to the stage tank, I moved in the deep zone only to a mean speed of 14 metres per minute.

Perhaps two hours after the end of the dive, I felt bad. I saw very strange phosphenes. I don’t believe it was decompression sickness unless it was something very strange and delayed. Was it what doctors call a foramen ovale with micro-bubbles reaching the brain? But in that case, why not just after diving? Another possible explanation is that I was dehydrated and hungry. A third possible explanation (due to the fact I breathed very slowly during the oxygen decompression stop) is that a kind of delayed hyperoxic incident happened. Anyway, I lay down with legs higher than head and took aspirin. Nathalie was slightly anxious, but she has rehydrated me with many glasses of Adelscott. This is a beer made with smoked whiskey malt and which contains not too much alcohol. This strange ‘medicine’ has had good moral effects. Less than an hour after, I had fully recovered. The phosphenes had disappeared, and I got no other problem.

After this dive, I have realised that I was beyond all was expected or could be accepted by all those cave diving commissions. I have also realised that despising certain persons was giving them a supplementary space and enhanced their existence. I just had to forget them. Even regarding close relatives, I have to be stealthier, for I no longer want that one speaks about what I did or failed to do. I was (and I am still) by far less interested by a reputation than by doing the caving I want to do. Very probably, if I earned money with this activity, I would be obliged to have another behaviour. Anyway, life cannot be rewound and lived again; this is a meaningless question.

I had got entangled with the guideline, and I had solved the problem. I had also had other problems with guideline in other caves. I have always solved the problems in another fashion than the academic one, especially the two techniques that were or are taught during training sessions. I don’t want to give their description here, and readers interested in technical details will find them in the following online French review: http://www.calameo.com/books/000534681815b81338a2b.

According to my own experience, I think they are not always efficient in real conditions, and I wish develop my point of view.

The first of these techniques is the one devoted to solve entanglements. From a theoretical point of view, it works perfectly even without visibility if one is entangled with one’s own guideline. However, it is based upon hypotheses that are not always realistic. For instance, it doesn’t take into account the following situations. Firstly, it can happen that one follows a guideline and one gets entangled with another close guideline. The strict application of the methodology would lead to mixing up your guideline and the other and to getting lost. Secondly, it can also happen that in a flat and narrow section of a cave, one gets entangled without being able to reach the guideline. Then the method just cannot be used.

The second of these techniques is devoted to finding back the guideline when one got lost. From a theoretical point of view, again, it works perfectly even without visibility. Practically, this technique does not take into account the case where many guidelines exist in the same passage. Once caught, which is the right one? What happens in case of fork? Eventually, one can get lost because the guideline has broken. In such a situation, the systematic search for an object that doesn’t exist will fail.

I think that what matters is, again, the knowledge of surroundings, including not only the mineral parts of the cave but also the guideline and other artificial objects as well as the diver. Anticipation is very important. In each part of the cave, the following questions must be asked permanently:

- What will happen if the guideline breaks, and what would be possible to do in order to recover this failure? For instance, where is the last anchor, and how is it possible to find it? Especially in a narrow flat passage, what are the other available landmarks?

- How can one get lost? What would be efficient to recover? For instance, if the contact between one’s hand and the guideline ceases, where must one search the guideline?

Very often, the most obvious or direct solutions are different from the pedantic methods that are regarded as universal. If no solution arises, this means that the incursion turns to be very hazardous and should be postponed or that one has to give up.

20 March 2005

We have worked hard in our barn. After that, I went to dive the Combe du Creux again. It has been a readjustment dive with just two 12l tanks. When starting, I felt not at ease, but it has improved once inside the cave. The dive lasted slightly more than one hour. I think my consumption was too important (2,400 litres), though I finned only 200 metres in the deepest zone. Anyway, a mean consumption of about 14 litres per minute has no meaning, though what happens during decompression stops and when finning in a deep gallery is different.

In the deep zone, my mind was not quiet, and I felt narcosis. Especially, my sight was shrunk, and any decision was slowed. This is what has limited the dive. Giving up is the only means to be able to try again. This is very similar to what happens with martial arts. The difference between being the winner and being the loser depends upon very few things, and what matters is to be still alive. I have no propensity for sheer risk, but cave diving is the only moment during my life where I can do what I think of and where I can think of what I am doing. From the point of view of Buddhism, this is a fashion to practically understand some principles, for instance that I is nothing. This is also a fashion to approach impermanence. I do not regard myself as practising Buddhism. I don’t belong to a Buddhist community, and I have no master. I just read books, which is perhaps less disappointing. Anyway, if I were Buddhist, it would be an impure Buddhism, which looks like the one of medieval Japan. It would correspond to a very impure mix of philosophy and concentration on one hand, hardness and violence on the other hand.

9 July 2005

I have dived in other caves, the Source de l’Écoutôt and the Gouffre du Paradis. Some rest would be needed. I am slow and less resistant to cold. The sky is overcast, the weather is not very beautiful, and sometimes it rains. This is demoralising. I have taken several cross sections in order to produce a valuable survey. I had planned to visit the ascending part of the pit, which leads to the deep zone. I wanted to reach its free surface of this pit, but I was too chilled. The sump was quite clear. I went back and observed the secondary passage at -6 metres where I had laid guideline several months ago. It stops below an impenetrable ascending shaft. If it communicates with the pond, I did not saw any daylight.

I have let two oxygen tanks and a reel in order to do an incursion next week, if the weather is beautiful, if I am in the right mood. I spent a lot of time between -26 metres and -14 metres because of the cross sections. I consumed 14 litres per minute, which is encouraging.

10 July 2005

Back home in our flat. I can shave myself, have a shower, eat correctly and sleep in a bed with Nathalie. This is the rest I needed. I have received very disturbing emails, and I must be very careful regarding my answers. Any weakness will allow some rival cave divers to give me new problems. Any appearance of weakness, as well as any appearance of force or power, can be a prompting to ordeal and can trigger catastrophes. Alone, I was quiet and not disturbed by all those problems. I think that one of my close friends has probably gossiped about what I did the last week. This explains perhaps this explosive situation.

Nine years later, I do not remember the subject of those emails. A certain group of cavers spend a lot of time to discuss about what other cavers do and think. They should do more caving by themselves. Despite all the efforts I have made, I still belong neither to the category of basic cavers who must believe in some haughty idol nor to the category of haughty idols who are obliged to cultivate their superiority. What matters is to do caving and cave diving at the highest possible level. I think of a level corresponding to material difficulties, not a social one.

18 July 2005

The water level is low. I was obliged to crawl and to carry my tanks through the entrance that was not flooded. I dove in the branch, which is at right. I used two 18l tanks, one 12l stage tank filled with 43% oxygen gas mix. I have laid 15-metre guideline beyond my terminus of the past year. I felt narcosis, but I am very happy not having being disturbed by thoughts about the recent emails. I mainly worried for Nathalie who was waiting outside. I had planned a dive of two hours’ runtime. I remember having asked myself if I had to go farther. The visibility was bad, and a little silent voice has said ‘murderer’ because scaring the girl who waits isn’t a good thing. Even if I am in a critical situation, with many doubts and questions, I was from a technical point of view very at ease in the cave. The gloves I wore were a very good protection against cold, and I had supplementary underclothes, which afforded also a good thermal protection. In addition to the lamps on my helmet, I had a 5w lamp on my left wrist, which was very efficient. Its position avoids suffering light diffusion. In the deep zone, I took only one cross section, near the flag 290 metres, and I consumed less than 15 litres per minute. The intermediate zone is always the most difficult. I consumed 17 litres per minute and only 8 litres per minute during the oxygen decompression stop. One of the oxygen regulators failed because its gasket was extruded. After the end of the dive, I let the tanks in the cave, obliged myself to avoid any effort during one hour and drank several litres water. This time, the decompression has been very good without phosphenes, without skin problems.

29 July 2005

After having mowed the grass near our barn and written some articles, I was back to the Combe du Creux. In the passage, which is at the left, I tied a new guideline at the point where the flags stopped, near the flag 500 metres. I took two cross sections at the points 300, metres and 345 metres. Here, one can find on the right bank a kind of small meander and also some potholes. It is sure that in a past epoch, this part of the cave was not flooded.

Before trespassing the deep zone, I have put a part of my ballast in order to be lighter and more at ease. When finning back, I have found the water quite dim with small flakes. Narcosis and cold ran in a cyclic and coordinated fashion. Sometimes I felt in a good mood, and sometimes I felt in a bad mood. In order to move back faster towards the exit, I have used all the holds I could find in order to pull myself. This very special kind of climbing saves up time, efforts, air and decompression time. During a short moment, because of narcosis, I did not remember very well where I was, but with the systematic arborescence of the guideline and its flags, I encountered any problem… . The different caving projects I manage feed each other, and if we succeed to go back to Morocco, I will probably remember there the Combe du Creux. Vertical caving and cave diving are the two only things that interest me. Taking some time and dives in order to study the cave is more interesting than laying guideline in a hurry. This is a fulfilment, not a drug.

19 December 2005 (Pictures 7.5 to 7.8)

I arrived at the barn very late in the night. I was very weary because of problems in my family and because of the kind of moral decay I can see in the milieu of caving as well as at job. ‘Positive discrimination’ is still a kind of discrimination. I am angry, which sustains weariness. Regarding caving, I must be very careful and avoid vital mistakes. When deeply developed, the opinions of some of my friends or former friends become cumbersome logical paradoxes. For instance, one of my friends does not like people who belong to a certain federal instance because of their low level of knowledge. But my friend has friends who have exactly this same level of knowledge. That’s just hell!

It was raining, and the water level was high. It had a blue opaque colour even if nothing flowed in the fields. I installed a tyrolienne. It was a rehearsing of what will be necessary next summer, and even now, it has been helpful to transport my tanks without efforts. I have developed the right technique, and I am able to ascend and descend along the oblique rope. This is a pleasure. I have worked a lot in order to prepare the tanks. I had no longer oxygen and have been obliged to buy a new oxygen tank. The weather is windy and cold with low clouds. I had planned to install the tanks today and to perform two incursions Saturday and Sunday, but eventually, I decided to install the tyrolienne today (in order to install the decompression tanks tomorrow) and to make only one incursion Sunday. Anyway, I hadn’t enough oxygen for two incursions. I went back to the railway of Besançon in order to take Nathalie. Then we went to the lodge in the small village of Montrond le Château. During winter, our barn is too cold, and we cannot sleep there.

10 December 2005

I was still angry against some institutions and the moral decay they promote; therefore, I had to be very careful in the sump. I had to dive in order to install the decompression tanks and train myself to depth. I was late when starting, for the weather, still cold and windy, was not incentive. Once in the water, I felt better. I put two oxygen tanks at -6 metres and a stage tank at -40 metres after what I sauntered in the deep zone, up to the potholes. I have felt no narcosis. I have come back just when my diving computer started to indicate some first stops at -6 metres. When I arrived in the shallow zone, it indicated a first stop at -9 metres. You must always pay at exit! After the dive of 90 minutes, I felt better and no longer angry. Very probably, I’m changing with a pace and in directions (solo caving) that are not understandable by other people. With the sunshine, the cold has increased. We have come back to the lodge, where a bottle of chardonnay and a cheese dish made with hot Mont d’Or and hot potatoes were waiting for us. We have had a good evening despite the presence of another group of cavers. They were not very interested in solo caving, high-level practice, exploration and so forth. While I dived the Combe, Nathalie has worked in our barn. She has precise ideas about the place of the inner walls we will build and about other details. She is very motivated. Not being alone for such a project is essential.

6 July 2006

It was raining, and I was weary. Because my LED lamp has failed, I had another lamp to test. I found a rope in the entrance of the cave, with a fluocaptor tied on. I carried a camera, but because of the moisture, it did not work properly. I was unable to take good pictures. On the contrary, the new LED lamp worked perfectly. I am satisfied, the two 12l tanks I used comfortably allowed myself to fin in the deep zone. I went out with more than 150b in each tank.

14 July 2006

I installed stage tanks in order to perform an incursion. I escaped from familial events. I have had an intense feeling of loneliness; nobody understands what I am doing and how it is important to me. The only people who could partly understand are hostile rivals. Outside the cave, the weather is very hot, and associated with my thoughts, it creates a kind of shock. I have torn a piece of my dry suit. There was again moisture inside my camera, and in addition, I was not very concentrated. I have over-consumed and almost missed the -3-metre decompression stop … except if I find something new and extraordinary—this is my last incursion in this cave—it is time to stop the process. I feel free, for I am no longer interested in many things that prevented myself to progress.

17–18 July 2006 (Pictures 7.9 to 7.14)

In order to keep cool during dressing and departure, I went near the cave yesterday evening; and I installed a tyrolienne, carried the tanks near water. Its level was low, so I was obliged to crawl into the entrance which was not flooded. I even prepared the small material, fins, mask and other instruments. After that, I slept near the pond. Early in the morning of Tuesday, I woke up, ate breakfast and went on for the incursion. I let a message to Nathalie, who had planned to join me after the incursion. In case of decompression sickness, her help could be warmly welcome.

This kind of organisation allows to avoid any stress and to avoid efforts and sweat before diving. The tyrolienne avoids many efforts after the dive. All the preparation was fine. I have been able to repair the part of my dry suit I had torn. I have been quick to install this tyrolienne. I made some technical notes about that:

- I used no load balancer, just two strands of Dyneema. If something breaks, the Dyneema is very static, but the rope itself has enough elasticity to avoid any shock: NO PROBLEM.

- I didn’t make any knots at the ends of the rope. The problem is not to fall but to be able to quickly remove the ropes without problem. This is rather the problem that is encountered in canyoning.

- The tanks were fixed using de-clutcheable knots in order to be easily removed.

The night has been short but nice. Living during a moment near the pond, sleeping on the pebbles transported by water in a place where it has flowed and will flow again is very fairy tale-like. In addition, this magical place is in the woods. At night, one can hear animals and noises due to the wind and the trees. And I can entirely belong to what I am interested in.

The evening has been warm, but the morning has been quiet and cold. The grass is full of dew. I have been very happy to roll myself in a blanket during the breakfast. After, time has begun to flow at a higher speed. There is no time to think of beloved people or of future endeavours. One lacks time even to think of the fact that the present action is engaged. The fact that the probability of dying isn’t null.

I dressed polar underclothes, with a pair of leggings and a polar shirt below. Then I dressed the dry suit. Alone, it needs a tree, a rubber band and a carabiner in order to close the zip. Finally, I equipped myself with instruments, tanks and so forth and entered water. I scarcely have dived early in the morning, but this is quieter. It resembles to the only occupation that should be mine in a perfect world. I started carrying a 60% oxygen stage tank and a 24% oxygen tank devoted to progression in the deep zone. The first stage tank has been jettisoned after 8 minutes, and the deep zone has been reached after 13 minutes. Some ballast has also been jettisoned. Ballast can be heavy and cumbersome at the beginning of the dive but be very useful at the end when one needs to balance the buoyancy due to empty tanks and the need of air in the suit against cold.

What follows was like a dream. Perhaps was it really a dream?

Progression: all was quiet on that front except for a slight narcosis at -46 metres. The last stage tank has been jettisoned too. The morphology of the passage was useful as a stimulation against monotony. Progression again: all was still. First fork: at left. Second fork and finally the terminus of the previous explorers has been reached. Then it has been time to lay some guideline. The passage’s shape, the possible rubbing, the possible traps had to be anticipated. Caving reflexes have arisen as in vertical caving. The passage was quite narrow, with clay dunes. I have been obliged to stop on such a dune, and I abandoned the reel. Either I would come back in an indefinite future or it would be the task of someone else to see it and, why not, continue.

It was time to come back towards the exit. Curiously, I remembered absolutely any number, but I remembered perfectly having read my timer, my depth gauge, my pressure gauges and my compass, comparing the indications with the thresholds or what was expected for safety purposes. Of course, I made a survey. Towards the exit, the depth increased slightly. So I felt again narcosis below the -40 metres. When I recovered of the first stage tank, it had been impossible to open it, so I continued using my back-mounted tanks. I recovered my second stage tank and my ballast and made the first stops with a 60% oxygen mix. These stops were ‘long’, but the oxygen decompression stop had been longer: 50 minutes. After a short stop at -3 metres (one is never too careful), I was able to go out.

I planned the decompression using Visual Deco, a Java program I have built and which was based on more refined things than the currently available Haldane’s, Bühlmann’s and Workman’s theories. I have very well felt that the decompression quality has improved, and I have no longer had the minor pains encountered in the past. I have told other people that I was doing researches, but they seemed not very interested. The fact they want to use my results or they would be able to understand them no longer matters.

I went out of the pond, leaving all the tanks in the water, tied on a rope. This had been too cumbersome in the passage where one must crawl. Then the first things have been to find something to drink! I had prepared two pills of aspirin in case of problem, but nothing arose.

Meanwhile, Nathalie had arrived, and she had taken pictures. I climbed along the ladder and removed my suit and small gears. After that, we lunched under the sun shafts. I warmed slowly, whereas she found the place too hot. After the lunch, we hauled the tanks. It needed time and effort, but they were less intense and irregular than if I had been totally alone for that part of the incursion.

This was my last dive devoted to exploration in this cave. I have made here other dives with other aims: sometimes to test a model of rebreather, sometimes to keep a close eye on what rivals are doing, sometimes just because I wanted to visit an old friend and discuss a little a bit with her. I have not dived the terminal sump of cave of Combe Ainée (Picture 7.15), which is a presumed upstream. Alone, it would be too difficult and a human junction between both caves seems to me very unlikely.

15 October 2006

With Nathalie and his brother, I went back to the Combe du Creux in order to test a model of rebreather. This cave has been chosen because it is not a straight tube and because a rebreather devoted to decompression must be tested in a cave where decompression may really occur. It was raining, so we let the material in the meadows and went back to the road with the car in order to avoid any surprise. Using this new material is not painful, not difficult as it was before I made some improvements. Carrying the material is easier than the exploration of the last summer. Once in the water, I began the trial without fins, and I found myself perfectly able to slip on them. I dove during 21 minutes without problem. It had become realistic to use such a material for explorations.

Picture 7.1: View of the pond of the Combe du Creux during a sunny day in summertime.

Picture 7.2: During dry summers, the water level is low. The entrance (upper right) is out of water. The other place (lower left) isn’t penetrable.

Picture 7.3: The cave opens in a wood. During summer, it is delightfully shadowy.

Picture 7.4: When the water level is low enough, one must crawl into the entrance before diving. I took this photograph in the same place where I brushed death when testing a rebreather. At that time all was flooded.

Picture 7.5: During a rainy November, the water level was very high and the pond was to overflow in the meadows.

Picture 7.6: Paradoxically, diving in such a situation can be easier. Carrying the tanks needs less efforts, for one hasn’t to climb the ladder.

Picture 7.7: Preparing gas mixes in our barn.

Picture 7.8: Wintertime in the Doubs.

Picture 7.9: Stalactites underwater. This part of the cave hasn’t always been flooded.

Picture 7.10: Potholes underwater. This deep part of the cave hasn’t always been flooded.

Picture 7.11: I went out of the cave without all the stage tanks. This is safer regarding decompression, one must avoid efforts.

Picture 7.12: We installed a zip-line and, together with Nathalie, we hauled the tanks painless.

Picture 7.13: The survey of the sump I have maid.

Picture 7.14: The corresponding cross-sections.

Picture 7.15: Nathalie is near the entrance of Combe Ainée, a cave which is a presumed upstream of the Combe du Creux.

CRITICISING THE SYSTEM: SCIENTIFIC AND ETHICAL CONSIDERATIONS

Caving in the widest sense is practised by people from different origins, having different aims. In addition, caving hasn’t exactly the same meaning in one country or in another. For instance, the Romanian Emil Racovita Institute of Speleology suggests that caving is foremost an academic activity in this country. On the contrary, in France, karstology as a science is well separated from speleology as a sport, with two different reviews that are Karstologia and Spelunca. Other countries have an intermediate point of view; for example the American NSS (National Speleological Society) holds a review named Journal of Cave and Karst Studies that presents scientific articles.

I don’t agree with the splitting of caving into several fields as in my country. The scientists who use sportive cavers’ results without entering very far or deep in caves expose themselves to the risk of using things they cannot prove or verify. This is against the principle that defines modern science and can be summarised as ‘no beliefs, only doubts.’ Reciprocally, understanding a minimal geological frame, how a cave has been created, to what constraints it is submitted and how water flows inside should be the basis of caving and not regarded as high-level science.

The cavers who aren’t interested in the scientific aspect of things are exposed to two risks. Firstly, they can miss interesting discoveries and premières by lack of understanding of geological and hydrological data. Secondly, if they use things they don’t understand very well, there is a risk to be unable to master or understand those things. In France, there is a feedback phenomenon: the scientific aspect of caving is taught to sportive cavers with the prejudice they have not enough cultural background and they have not an understanding at scientific level. In many occasions, this leads to a teaching more devoted to observation or to obtaining measurements than to interpreting things or placing them into a deep conceptual frame.

The scientific face of caving is a very good example of how fashion phenomena and politics have invaded everything. Because everybody speaks about the probable warming of climate, credits are mostly devoted to this field of research. As a result, nowadays, a majority of topics in cave research belongs to the area of sustainable development and climatic evolution. Regarding other fashions and trends, an important part of an issue of a French review has recently been devoted to ghost-rock karstification. For non-specialists, it means alteration of rocks in situ without removing the by-products, which remain inside the in-formation hollow. At least in France, karstology is more and more regarded as a kind of geography, which is rather a literary field than a hard science. Even if karstification is based upon physical and chemical processes, it is not studied using all the powerful tools of modern chemistry and physics. This scientific field is regarded as few or non-mathematical. Such an outlook strongly contrasts with the theoretical concepts that could be applied to the formation of karsts.

For a non-paid comer who has the will to do something not only in the field of sport and who has a background of theoretical physics, bad luck! I wish, however, to expose some problems I regard as especially interesting even if they are outside the ‘right’ trends. I have deeply investigated some of these problems and only brushed others when time lacked. This is always the case with another job to do seriously.

A very interesting thing deals with the concept of emergence. It can be regarded as a series of problems very similar, at another scale, to those of cosmology, origins of life and consciousness: how can (or cannot) one integrate simple ingredients to produce a higher-level system that has new properties, absent from its lower-level components? Regarding cave science, how can one integrate water, rock and energy to form the very complex and structured world of caves penetrable by man? The formation of caves is, at least qualitatively, quite well understood since a long time. However, numerous open sub-problems still remain that are not only qualitative and require a lot of literal or even numerical calculations.

For instance, in some areas, all the ingredients seem present, whereas no cave has been found. What additional ingredient, still unknown, is lacking? What parameter is not in the proper range? Or is it just a question of probability? How is it possible, regarding two similar massifs, that one contains a lot of caves and the other contains few or no caves? This problem has been partially investigated by the Belgian karstologist Yves Quinif, but a general quantitative theory remains to be done.

Several ancient theories state that conduits form only at the level of the water table. This ‘water table’ roughly corresponds to the level at which water is found if a well is bored. Several other theories state that deep conduits can exist far below the water table. Solving the question is not so obvious, for the reality is always observed in an indirect fashion. During caving, one can ramble in tubes that are ancient conduits. If they have formed by underwater corrosion, only one thing is sure: they have formed when the water table was at a higher position. During cave diving too, the only sure thing is that one dive into sumps that are below the current water table. So even if good qualitative models already exist, for instance Ford’s extended four states model, a general quantitative model is still to invent. I have investigated a two-dimensional model (Pictures 8.1 & 8.2). It gives promising results and has been published in the Speleogenesis magazine. I’m developing a three-dimensional model, but since the end of Speleogenesis as a review, it seems more difficult to publish it elsewhere.

Caves penetrable by man are long and wide-enough conduits when regarded at the present time. How has varied the size of these conduits? Is it a slow and continuous evolution from a very small size to a size penetrable by man, or is it something more sudden? How can only one or a few number of future penetrable conduits be selected among all the possible pathways that correspond to the multiple intersections of beddings, planes, joints and other discontinuities? Only partial models, or models devoted to very peculiar systems, have been developed. Moreover, these models depend upon too many empiric parameters. There exist only few attempts to reduce the number of these parameters and to gain some universality. Some models take into account the development of a single conduit from a crack subjected to different constraints but don’t take into account the evolution of numerous conduits at the whole scale of a karstic massif. Finding a theory depending upon the smallest possible number of parameters would be very interesting. A theory explaining, even roughly, how conduits evolve in size and flow rate at the scale of a whole massif would give a new point of view.

More generally, a karstic system can be regarded as a network, with pathways that can be reinforced by some positive retroactive loops or weakened by some negative retroactive loops. For instance, it is classically assumed that the wider a flow conduit is, the more it enlarges. Other systems share the feature to be a network and to embed retroactive loops. They share also the feature that a node evolves according to its position inside the network, in other words according to the number of neighbours it has. Models of brain and consciousness or systems in the field of sociology belong to this category. Looking for the common points among all these systems, finding (perhaps) a general theory or developing general tools, may be very interesting. All that deals also with SOC (self-organised criticality), as studied by the physicist Per Bak.

That which was an unconscious truth, becomes, when interpreted and defined in an object, a part of the domain of knowledge—a new weapon in the magazine of power.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

There exist also problems that are linked neither with emergence nor with networks. On the contrary of the large-scale problems described above, these are local problems, regarding a precise place into a cave or a small part of a conduit. For instance, inside a given cave and at the present time, some hints regarding past history can be found. Sediments have been laid or removed, and some marks have been engraved by water flows (Pictures 8.3 & 8.4). The interpretation of those items as a time machine is very important. It allows to understand the past geology at the scale of a massif as well as the different states during the formation of the cave. In the case of a complex evolution, for instance many episodes corresponding to different flow rates, this is not always easy to do.

I am very interested in the following sub-problem. Water can create marks in sand (‘ripple marks’) or engrave marks (‘scallops’ or ‘flutes’) at the surface of a rock. This phenomenon is quite general. It may occur each time a fluid flows near a solid wall where something can be dissolved or transported (Picture 8.5). For example, it occurs when air flows at the surface of ice in a glacier, inside some kind of rockets, and in some kind of chemical reactors. It is more or less understood. One knows that the mark depends upon the formation of a vortex (or eddy or whirlpool if one prefers) inside itself. One knows that the size of the marks depends upon the speed of the fluid (Picture 8.6). But there are few studies about the speed of the process: how many millimetres of rock is removed each year? There are also few studies about what happens when the speed of the fluid varies. To what extent does the size of the mark vary? To what extent does it remain constant? This latter question is essential regarding cave survey; in some circumstances, variations of flow rate are perhaps not recorded by those marks.

The fact that caving is at the border of science and sport, the fact that it is practised by people from different origins, means also that one has several motivations to do caving. It is very important to me to avoid to lie to oneself as well as to other people. Sometimes, especially in newspapers, it is written that caving allows a better hydrological understanding of a massif. It is written or said that cavers contribute strongly to hydrological knowledge and to protection of water resources. This is an absolute truth only in some situations. In other situations, this is said only in order to have a good public image and to obtain authorisations needed to explore certain areas. Reversely, cavers or cave divers often add scientific data to their publications about première and exploration. Sometimes they perfectly understand what they do and are perfectly able to link both kinds of data. However, in other occasions a thorough read of their paper suggests that they absolutely don’t understand anything. It also suggests that they just try to enlarge and decorate their paper. All that mix-up well illustrates one of the features of our modern age: in order to succeed, one has to believe in one’s own lies.

I must confess that when I run on a computer complex calculations about karstic systems, I do not think of the cold or shade I feel when I dive in sumps. What is interesting is to use all the theoretical knowledge gained in doing theoretical physics in order to investigate fun systems (Picture 8.7). These systems are more available, more terrestrial and easier to observe than intergalactic space or collisions between elementary particles. One can see them with one’s own eyes, touch them, and small teamwork or solo work are still possible. Calculations can be summarised in more or less elegant formulas, and numerical simulations create often visual-coloured objects that are more or less beautiful. One must never forget the proximity between science and art; the former not only explains things but also creates new things. I am perhaps a nasty boy, but as a cave diver, I have never been interested in the sustainable development of water resources. Sustainable development is a lie when it implies that development remains possible. The first thing to do is to reduce the global population; it isn’t to find new resources in order to let it grow. What interests me is to go the farthest possible into the cave with the lightest material and to perform technical tests in order to check the material I have built by myself. Laying a guideline into a sump and improving material can be seen as a technical and scientific act as well as an artistic act. Here again, the notion of beauty is closely related to the notion of being handsome and reliable. On the contrary of consumer goods, the design of such objects is foremost internal. I will develop this notion in the chapter ‘Dealing with complex Systems’.

The ancient Greeks called the world κοσμος, beauty. Such is the constitution of all things, or such the plastic power of the human eye, that the primary forms, as the sky, the mountain, the tree, the animal, give us a delight in and for themselves; a pleasure arising from outline, color, motion, and grouping. This seems partly owing to the eye itself.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

Outside the frame of science, caving contains philosophic problems that should be solved. Discovering new caves by means of systematic examination of wide areas and further digging has a huge cost. It takes a lot of time and needs a lot of people. Due to gas mixes and diving material, the continuation of long deep sumps takes a lot of money too. So doing caving in the same fashion than during the past century yields to a result by person or by unit of time more and more lower. It involves also more and more ordinary people involved into a whole organisation, which totally overwhelms each individuality. This is probably another feature of our modern age.

As a digression, it is worth to mention that in our modern age, all must have a value, and all must be linked to society. This is very well explained by Hannah Arendt in her book Between Past and Future, again in the chapter entitled ‘Tradition and the Modern Age’. Such a system of permanent exchanges, where nothing exists by itself and where one exists only by the virtue of exchanges, had been outlined by Adam Smith in The Wealth of Nations. According to Karl Marx, it would lead to a radical transformation of man, who becomes the ‘socialised man’.

In my country (and perhaps in other countries), there is a trend for today’s caving to produce things, results, more and more remote from caves and sumps. In some reviews, the proceedings of meetings, political events and training sessions take more place than surveys or reflections about technical and philosophical progress. Some technical evolutions are proposed upon the basis of imaginary failures, regardless of statistical data and probabilistic analysis. As explained above, in France there exist two national reviews that are split into two distinct fields. Regarding the field of karstology, cave science is very interesting only if it mainly regards caves penetrable by man. This is a sensible trend. Some researchers in the field of karstology give lessons to cavers even if themselves aren’t true cavers! Regarding the review fully devoted to speleology, the articles must be readable by the largest possible public. As a consequence, the development of complex technical or scientific articles is trammelled. Without these kinds of articles, letting the field evolve and rendering it closer to caves and sumps is more difficult, almost impossible. Very often, the fear that some readers might misunderstand a difficult technical article and then be endangered is a pretext to refuse such articles. Safety has become a political weapon.

However, reality shows that caving and cave diving cannot be confined to things ‘understandable by everybody’. Some concepts, necessary to perform severe and engaged incursion underground, will forever remain difficult and conceptually deep. Not publishing texts about them, hiding them, widens the gap between current practice and top-level practice. I think this is rather unfair. Another big philosophical problem arises when institutions are led by people who do not understand deep concepts. This is possible, for those people have been selected according to their charisma rather than according to engineering knowledge. They think that what is good/complex for them is good/complex also for other people. So under their leadership, the practice is pruned, reduced to a shallower complexity. In addition, one might never forget that vote is not relevant for everything. For instance, neither a theorem nor the result of a series of experiments can be the object of a vote. In addition, one must never forget that a vote on persons (very frequent) isn’t a vote on actions to do (by far less frequent).

Even without speaking of politics, the ‘administration of things’ is often regarded as the most important, the core of the activities of a federation and especially the French Federation of Speleology. Nevertheless, it is allowed to have a very different opinion. One can think of the ‘administration of things’ as something very dull, narrow and boring one has to escape each time it is possible.

Escaping at international level is only a partial solution. There exist international reviews or projects more collaborative and less hierarchic, where people are more able to understand or to tolerate things that have a deep complexity. They are able to understand more difficult or deeper things. Perhaps the use of a common foreign language (often English) allows to cross the borders of narrow thoughts and narrow national languages. Nevertheless, because of the processes of representative democracy, international institutions are often led by the same category of people than national institutions, and it can lead to the same kind of problems. As explained above, I strongly regret Speleogenesis as an online review. It has had a too-short life. Now, scientific publications must be sent to other more specialised reviews.

Fulfilment in the afore-described frame is more and more difficult. Even if one focuses on exploration, doing some première in such a context means more and more discussing with people, convincing them, obtaining compromises. It means more and more doing politics, less and less being underground and solving huge moral and physical difficulties. I think that what matters is to solve complex and difficult problems. If looking for première no longer allows to find these problems, so fulfilment must no longer be tightly linked with première. Looking for première was a way of fulfilment, but at the present time, it can be a loss of resources and time. Something that doesn’t contribute to personal and moral elevation—that is just the result of an accumulation of human and material resources without fine optimisation—is no more interesting. In addition, caves to discover are, as petroleum or coal to consume, not a renewable resource. Première has also at least one negative feature, its staggering effect. The announcement of this première has often an impressive effect on other people. They are impressed or staggered. This is good for the preservation of one’s moral superiority. But one is also staggered, and many authors underline the fact that a kind of post-climax depression can happen at different scales of time.

By far, I’m not the only to think of this post-climax depression. In the chapter entitled ‘Full Circle’ of her book Climbing Free, Lynn Hill reports such a trouble after having free climbed the Nose (a well-known route on El Capitan, a big wall of North America). This is also reported by Reinhold Messner in The Seventh Grade. In a chapter entitled ‘Only Half an Hour’s Sleep’, he explains what happened to him after having solo climbed the north face of the Droites, in the massif of the Mont Blanc (France). In the chapter entitled ‘Five Climbs in a Day’, he explains that it is not usual to make twice a very severe and difficult climb one has made one time.

Even a long time after having physically and morally recovered, even with a pre-existing guideline, it is often difficult or impossible to do again the same incursion. Going out of this frame and being able to repeat several times a very engaged incursion can be an interesting aim for the caving of the twenty-first century.

Since I made my première during the autumn 2007 at the Source de l’Écoutot in the French Doubs, I have never been able to reach again the same point. The four years after this première, I encountered professional and personal difficulties. So I turned for a moment to other sumps and to climbing. But since I started again to frequent the main branch of the cave, during the four attempts I made, I never succeeded to reach again my terminus. Bad surroundings due to water flow are a possible explanation for one of those attempts. The visibility was very poor, and 300 meters before the terminus, I needed to have both hands on the guideline in order to progress and check it. I realised that once at the terminus, I could never seek the continuation and install a new guideline, so I turned back. But for the other attempts, the reason was purely moral and psychological. Either I was afraid or I lacked the warlike motivation that was needed. So even if another diver (a woman I hope) finds the continuation and makes the première, reaching again my terminus and its continuation remains a personal goal of first importance. Moreover, the Source de l’Écoutôt is one of the benchmarks where I test some gears I have made because it is a tough sump. Reaching the terminus using a rebreather instead of classical gears would be a valuable extra: if it works well here, it will be safe elsewhere.

Many other problems outside the sheer première are open and very interesting. Even if understanding these problems is out of reach of certain cavers, it is worth to precise what they can be and to develop some possible solutions.

They are foremost human problems, which can be summarised as follows:

- Firstly, how to increase the yield per caver and to bring it back to an acceptable level.

- Secondly, how to do something new and interesting in caves that have already been ‘discovered’

Though each caver is free to invent his/her own solution, solo caving can be an answer. It can be a central element of fulfilment at different levels. Doing alone something that has been done only by a team is something new and interesting. To those who think that it is dangerous and are against it, the answer can be Reinhold Messner’s argument (The Seventh Grade, ‘Finger Exercises by a Potential Suicide’): even if it lacks originality, driving one’s car with passengers is more dangerous.

This is the core of ethics to precise what solo is and which are the boundaries of this concept. It does not simply mean going underground or underwater alone.

- In the case of cave diving, diving alone after a preparation, which has needed several days of work by a huge team, is frequent, and by far, this cannot be regarded as solo.

- In the case of vertical caving, reaching alone the bottom of a cave that has already been equipped by a team cannot be regarded as solo.

A first degree of true solo is preparing the whole operation alone and treating the data, exploiting the results alone. Bringing back results is compulsory, for it is the proof of the incursion. From the point of view of yield, solo can be regarded as an intellectual release. The solo caver is responsible for any problem he encounters, as well as for any success he gains.

Survey has a special importance. Some cavers used to say that only surveyed première is a true première. It could mean that the première belongs to who brings back the survey. It could also mean that surveying an already-discovered cave could be a substitute to the première, a kind of under-première. Such concepts, that are close to ideas of virginity and reflect a kind of machismo, belong often to a world of shallow intelligence. For a start, it is preferable to mention what the great diver Cyril Brandt said: ‘What matters is the study of the cave’. It means that the cave must be conceptualised and that this conceptualisation is a valuable goal. Caving and cave diving are more than only physical exercise, only underground sport. Surveying a cave needs more ease than doing an incursion into it. This is why it is interesting for personal improvement and elevation. From an extreme point of view, returning from a première without survey could be regarded as cowardice or as an act of cheating.

However, survey is not the only proof of an incursion. There are other possible proofs. For instance, it is possible to bring back pictures of remote parts of a sump. Strong limitations exist, which make the difference between action picture and artistic picture made near the entrance. One of them is the transparency of water, for pictures are impossible with a visibility of only few dozens of centimetres. In such conditions, a proper survey is difficult too. Another limit is the light itself. Transporting and installing alone all the gears needed to the proper lighting of a part of sump or cave is a huge operation that would erode the autonomous margins devoted to an incursion far away. Magazine pictures scarcely correspond to such incursions.

A second degree of true solo caving is, from a financial and material point of view, to be independent from any institution, club, firm or commission. This second degree is an ideal very difficult or impossible to reach. It means that caving cannot be a job, that caving results cannot be sold—even the present book—and that one can by no means be a professional caver. This brings back to the play on words written at the beginning of this book, for it can be regarded as a Battle of the Sum. From the point of view of doing interesting things, solo caving is clearly something that belongs to non-competitive caving. This is a word that has the same meaning than non-competitive mountaineering. It has a meaning very different from the sportive speleology, which, in French books, implicitly means lower-level caving.

I totally agree with Reinhold Messner’s ideas (developed in The Seventh Grade). In contrast to practising an activity for the sake of sheer première, one can practise an activity in a non-competitive fashion. This means to solve problems in a distinctive fashion, and this means applying to oneself particular rules that are important only for this person. It the milieu of mountaineering, such a non-competitive view isn’t new, for it has tempted climbers at least since the nineteenth century. For instance, several mountaineers wanted and succeeded to reach summits and make difficult climbs without guide. However, in the milieu of caving, this trend seems newer. I’m not, by far, the only to do solo caving, but it seems that not everybody realises the ethical aspect of such a practice.

Non-competitive caving means that sometimes one prefers looking for something that has not been already done than spending time and means in order to discovering new caves.

To those who say:

- You are not doing something new, for the cave is already known!

It is possible to answer:

- Try to do the same thing in the same conditions.

The concept of conditions is very important. It has a wider meaning than simply doing all things alone. Buying by oneself the material needed corresponds to another engagement in life than borrowing it from a club or another official, for instance. From a financial point of view, one has to balance the sum of one’s whole life. The notion of collective material disappears, and strong limitations appear. The quantity of material I use, which is rapidly destroyed, is limited by the money that can be earned in non-caving activities.

Some kinds of gears are too expensive to be bought. If their absence can be balanced by making something by oneself, this is a possible new way of fulfilment. For instance, if propellers, very useful in large sumps and which allow to spare time and gas, are not available, engaging oneself in long sumps with the exclusive thrust of fins can be regarded as a valuable goal (even if it appears silly to other categories of cave divers). The milieu of mountaineering is not stubborn, and it has solved since a long time such kinds of problems. For instance, skying a summit after having being dropped by helicopter is regarded differently than skying after an ascent made without mechanised means. Earning money means to have a job and spending time to work honestly at that job. So it remains only a finished amount of time devoted to caving endeavours. Moreover, a free choice of those moments according to the forecast and the best hydrological conditions underground isn’t always possible. Eventually, the practice of caving can be regarded as the materialisation of dreams; having one’s job outside of the cave’s realm is a necessary condition in order to prevent the alteration of dreams by materialistic compromises. This ethical way has many outcomes regarding specific subjects. It is interesting to develop some of them.

Caving abroad acquires a new meaning. Some expeditions can be regarded as more or less colonialist endeavours. By ‘colonialist’, I mean looking for caves not yet explored by the natives as they are already too poor or too late to be able to explore these caves. Inside this frame, one can think of the possibility of an exchange of première against training, technical help or even money. As a native in your own country, could you accept such a thing? On the contrary, caving abroad in more developed areas or outside the frame of any exchange can be regarded as a fashion to find interesting strong constraints and limits. The amount of material one can transport by oneself is limited, and available time is limited too. The available help in case of problem is very reduced, and it is compulsory to be very careful. Sometimes being stealth is necessary; this is an interesting constraint too. Due to the limited available time, action can be performed only on the basis of partial information, and sometimes the travel does not allow an optimal fitness. This gives to any success a higher value than in France. To people who will say:

- This cave has yet been investigated by an international team with a publication!

It can be replied again:

- Try to do the same thing in the same conditions.

Caves penetrable by man are a non-renewable resource. Once this potential has been used up, if one wants to do something else than practising in already-known caves, two different possibilities exist. It is possible to create new caves. This is exactly what happens when digging extends over a long time and through a huge blockage. Or it is possible to sustain technical exchanges at the border of caving. On one hand, it is possible to reinvest the acquired background to the exploration of other vertical surroundings than caves. For example, artificial climbing can be interesting. On the other hand, testing new things, some of them coming outside from the cave milieu, can be very interesting. Those things can be material items or more conceptual models. An example of material item is the Dyneema. This is a thin cord with a diameter of 5.5 millimetres. It is very resistant to abrasion but very static and quite unable to bear shocks. It is already used for instance to tie together two anchors. It is possible to use it to abseil, and many canyoneers do that. But at the present time, there exists no reliable, quick and easy solution to ascend on a single strand of Dyneema. The main problem is not the prevention of shocks that could break it. A correct equipment with or without Dyneema must be designed to avoid any shock. While people are paralysed with questions such as ‘Will single-strand Dyneema be enough resistant to shocks?’ the main problem is elsewhere. Classical ascending gears fail on Dyneema and tear it. Dyneema is expensive. It could become cheaper only if the demand increases. Developing multipurpose reliable gears would be of the highest interest. It would allow to use the thickest ropes at the entrance of a cave, thinner ropes few hundred metres below and finally Dyneema at the deepest level or for short steps, when something light spares many efforts and pains. The exclusive use of Dyneema could be a fine solution for a quick solo engagement in a deep vertical cave and to go beyond the limit of -300 metres. Otherwise, round-trips for carrying other kit bags and several successive engagements are needed.

There already exists a technique that avoids using a lot of ropes. A rope is used to abseil, and a thin cord is in place of that rope. This cord is used to re-install the rope before ascending. But regarding guidelines, fractionation and deviations, this technique is quite restricted. The risk of falling is not very important, but there is a risk for the cord to fail. Such a situation would lead to be trapped inside the cave and waiting for external help. This isn’t acceptable.

In the field of cave diving, decompression models (the theories that indicate the depth and the length of decompression stops) are an example of conceptual model with very material and vital results. In sumps, things have still to be improved. Decompression and decompression sickness have been a main subject for military and civilian studies during the past century. At that time, one had to improve the safety of commercial and military diving (for example in order to rescue submarines and to clear off mines). This scientific research has reached a culmination point with the saturation deep diving. Mixes of helium, hydrogen and oxygen were breathed by divers whose dives lasted several weeks. At the present time, robots are preferred for deep interventions. So decompression research has now gone down; what has been found is enough for the present purposes of engineers and doctors. Hence, the only remaining field where important decompressions are unavoidable is cave diving. Such decompressions have to be optimised in order to reach a maximal safety and a minimal duration. However, a majority of cave divers use diving computers and decompression software that are opaque. The ‘models’ (Bühlmann, Workman etc being the keywords) embedded inside are based on empiric studies. Improving them by a statistical survey of the whole set of all engaged dives made by all cave divers would be a very valuable collective project. One can regret that communities of cave divers seem to be less interested by such an endeavour than by blinking blind software.

I have developed a new model, freely available on my internet site, that reduces the dozens of empirical parameters of previous models to only two parameters. Since 2009, and after a less-refined model, I exclusively used this one to reduce the length and to improve the safety level of all the decompressions I had to do.

Ethics and what kind of fulfilment can be reached, what resources can be used, will always be controversial. As pointed out, for instance, by Lynn Hill (Climbing Free, ‘Heading East’), when you do something new, suddenly all that pre-existed seems narrow, rigid or dull. You are in a new learning process that allows you to go farther. At the same time, you have to face too-‘conservative’ people who find you guilty for failing to respect the old principles.

Picture 8.1: I have developed a two-dimensional model of karstic flow conduits. It depends upon a minimal numbers of empiric parameters. Here it is a system where the strata have a moderate dip; the colours represent the different probabilities to find a karstic conduit. Blue codes for a high probability, purple codes for a lower probability and white codes a very small or null probability. The dark horizontal line represents the water table.

Picture 8.2: With the same model and the same conditions, a possible system of conduits has been sketched (dark). It resembles to some elevations of actual sumps, including deeper part of the Combe du Creux (another mechanism explains the shallower part).

Picture 8.3: Scallops in the Scialet de l’Aspirateur (Vercors, France). It has been explored by the club Spitteurs Pan and they had kindly invited me.

Picture 8.4: These scallops in the Scialet de l’Aspirateur are close to similar shapes formed in sand deposits. This suggests (but doesn’t demonstrates) that a same hydrodynamical mechanism can act in several different conditions.

Picture 8.5: The qualitative mechanism of scallops and related shapes. The vortex (or eddy or whirlpool of one prefers) is what physicists call a non-linear phenomena and it is the key to understand scallops. I’m sure that a lot of things remain to be discovered regarding theses fascinating shapes.

Picture 8.6: Curl’s relationship has been established by Curl on the basis of experimental and practical observations. I ran some simulations using Gerris (it is a free software devoted to hydrodynamical simulations created by Stéphane Popinet and available here: http://gfs.sourceforge.net/wiki/index.php/Main_Page). The theoretical results (in blue) aren’t perfect but match quite well Curl’s relationship.

Picture 8.7: Several simulations of scallops using Gerris. The vortex inside each scallop remains stable in a wide range of velocities. It suggests (even if further investigations are needed) that sometimes, when the water velocity varies, the size of the scallops could remain constant. In such a situation, past velocities aren’t “recorded” on the scallops.

DIVING THE SOURCE DE L’ÉCOUTÔT

My explorations in the Source de l’Écoutôt started in 2004. On the contrary of the Combe du Creux, they are still unfinished. Each sump has its own difficulties, its own specificities. This one is a tough place where I can also test some material. Of course, it would be meaningless to state something like ‘This cave is one of the toughest I frequent.’ The maximal depth is lesser than inside the Combe du Creux, and one has by far less decompression to pay when coming back. The difficulty is rather related to the length of the sump, about 1,800 metres for the main branch, and to the fact that some sections are narrow or muddy. Parameters are always relative. There exist longer or narrower sumps and muddier caves. If you think that you are the best, it means simply that you have not yet met someone who is better; if you think a cave is difficult, it means simply that you have not yet met a more difficult cave.

As many other sumps of the Doubs, the Source de l’Écoutôt had been more explored than surveyed before I came. My first aim has been to re-explore and make a proper survey; doing première has been a second aim. In order to tell something interesting about this very large project, I have separated things into three parts: the history, the human aspect of things (I mean the psychological and social aspects) and finally an objective description of the cave issued from all the known data.

History: Rise and Decay of Exploration

I dived in this sump for the first time during 2004, and roughly, I never ceased to dive here (Pictures 9.1 to 9.5). Some selected excerpts of a diary are more expressive and faithful than rebuilding the history from one’s remembrances. I added some comments only in order to underline further consequences of the situation or to establish the link with some important external events.

12 September 2004

I lacked of sleep, and as a consequence, I was chilled. I laid 125 metres of my guideline along a pre-existing wire, and when coming back, I made a survey. I will continue with a guideline lighter and cheaper; I will use the one of diameter 1.6 millimetres I had bought for Mexico. Here, one must reckon 10 anchors per 100 metres of guideline. The visibility was quite poor. I spent 49 minutes underground with a mean speed of 10 metres per minute. I didn’t find warm and clear water, and the temperature was 11 degrees Celsius only.

13 December 2004

The weather was very cold, and things turned out to be even more uneasy when I tried to close the zip of my dry suit. I have also had problems regarding other elementary tasks. I dived and followed the guideline, but the visibility was poor: even if I knew that I followed the right line, it was very difficult to see again the details I had seen during the last dives. I laid my guideline along a wire up to its end. Then I followed two ancient guidelines, which were going at left. The visibility has become lower, and I have found a tag with the word bell. After 130 metres, I decided to go back. I had more than enough air, but the visibility had become very poor, and it prevented to continue with a minimal level of safety… . The dive lasted for 78 minutes, and I consumed less than 15 litres per minute. The temperature was more or less ten degrees Celsius. There are different areas with a mixing of surface water and ground water having different temperatures.

14 January 2005

I went in the Doubs with several friends. Diving when I am not alone has become a problem. When other people are waiting for you outside a sump, it is very difficult to forget them and to forget their thoughts once in the cave. It is easier with relatives or siblings than with other people, but it remains difficult. With Denis outside, it was bearable—there were enough confidence and affection—yet it has become very difficult to tell to other people what happened during the dive. The flow rate was higher than during summer dry periods, but diving remained possible. It is very likely that this cave is insulated from the rest of the karst by a breakdown or another obstacle, which limits the flow rate.

Before the dive, the owner of the plot that contains the cave visited us, and I have given him the promised survey I made. Drawing surveys, preparing dives, takes a lot of time. I am no longer interested by the different kinds of meetings specific to the milieu of caving. They cost too much time for a very limited yield.

I dove with side-mounted tanks in order to be flatter in some tough sections. I had to test a home-made buoyancy compensator adapted to my harness. When starting, I felt not at ease: with people around me, I am always in a hurry because I want to escape them and to escape their sight. On the contrary, when I start alone, entering into water after having made efforts is entering into a calm place. Because of the flow rate, the sight in the sump was better than the previous dive. I have had a better understanding of the cave… . Quickly, I arrived to my previous terminus and retrieved the reel I had left. After having observed three divergent ancient guidelines in a place where the visibility was reduced because of the presence of mud, I decided to stop (which meant not laying any guideline this day). When coming back, I measured several sections of the passage. This operation needs to connect a special reel to the main guideline with a carabiner. This small reel has tags each metre, so it allows precise measurements of the passage width. The height can be measured using the indications of the depth gauge. The visibility was sporadic but let me discover what was the morphology of the passage. It looks like a penstock with scallops on the walls. Frequently, it has potholes on its floor. This last detail suggests that in the past, the gallery was not flooded. Sometimes a joint crosses the passage. It looks like a fork, but it isn’t a fork! Outside, Denis and Jean-Luc have prepared a new guideline, measured it and put flags in place. This exercise has avoided them to be too chilled.

19 March 2005

I wanted to dive but didn’t succeed. The stream was increased by snowmelt, and the visibility was too poor (less than 40 centimetres underwater).

2 May 2005

I wanted to dive because the weather was to deteriorate. But I found myself very tired, probably a kind of flu or another virus. So I stayed in our barn, where there was caving material to wash and concrete to prepare. I had also many professional tasks to do.

3 May 2005

I was still ill, but I dived the sump as I wanted. The flow rate was important and visibility was poor, but at least I found the place where I stopped last winter cleaned by the stream. I also found my guideline broken, and I have been obliged to repair it, which has consumed several anchors. I continued to lay my guideline close to one of the pre-existing guidelines or weaved both together. I stopped because of the lack of anchors… . Even if I didn’t reach the safety limits, my air consumption has been important, almost 15 litres per minute. I have spent 75 minutes in the sump, using side-mounted 10-litre tanks and a 9-litre stage tank… . During the evening, I have had a dinner with a friend caver, Didier, and his family. We have discussed several problems of the federation. Between ultra-conservative people and empty-headed people, finding a satisfactory compromise is difficult.

4 May 2005

I dived again in the Source de l’Écoutôt. I was not very fine, and the weather was not very good. But I was longing for a part of the sump I didn’t already know. This is exploration, at least for myself, and exploration is the most important! I have laid less than 100 metres of guideline, but I had the feeling to be very far from the entrance… . I have spent 75 minutes in the sump, and I have been chilled. Thicker underclothes would be very welcome for diving as well as for ‘dry’ caving (when one must wait for other people). I have surveyed a part of the cave that had never been surveyed, and this has been a great happiness.

7 June 2005

I woke up very late and started late. This was a conscious tardiness, for I had to recover. To recover from what? I was weary because at my job, I have been obliged to work with people (some students as well as some colleagues) who were slower than usual. Is it possible to write slow-minded? Their paces were very different from mine… . They are not creative persons, and among them, there are too few women. All that is harmful. I am very young, but I must confess that the dream of being retired has brushed me more than once during the recent nights. This is only a dream, but it would be a pleasure to cultivate roses in the garden of our barn in place of working hard with people who are not hardly motivated… . I started with two 10-litre tanks and a 9-litre stage tank. The weather was warm, with a nice blue sky. The meadows were full of flowers and butterflies. All that was very peaceful and pleasant. The only unpleasant thing has been the effort to pull on the dry suit and close its zip. I sweated, and because of the moisture, I have been chilled later in the sump… . Almost at 120 metres from the entrance, when I finned quietly, I suddenly have been overcome with fear. I have remembered that two years ago, abroad, I got lost in a sump. I was to go out of the cave as quickly as possible, but I tried to have coherent thoughts. I realised that here, the guideline was a firm link between the diver and the entrance. It has the same level of safety than a rope in a pit. This idea allowed me to recover and to continue to dive. I left the stage tank on the guideline at about 300 metres from the entrance before having reached the safety margin. I felt lighter from a moral and physical point of view and was able to continue. Then I recovered my reel and started to lay my guideline.

It is more complicated to lay a new guideline in a sump that already contains a guideline than in a virgin sump. Two other persons had dived in this cave before I came, but the second hasn’t woven his guideline with the first. As a consequence, I had three guidelines to manage. When it was possible, I tried to tie or weave them together. I left many marks on the guideline, which was very slow and very tedious. First of all, such an operation doesn’t allow a good observation of the passage, for one is obliged to focus on the pre-existing guidelines in place of focusing on the natural parts of the surroundings. When coming back, the visibility is always poorer and does not allow to compensate this lack of observation. I laid 300 metres of guideline before stopping it, tying it on the other devoid of tags and cutting it from the reel. The end of the dive has been easier. I went back in more-known places. I was very happy because I did the maximum. I did all what was possible to do. Near the exit, I felt warmer water. It corresponds roughly to the tag ‘140 metres’ of the guideline and to the beginning of a passage that I have to re-explore. This cave is a complex system with many flows. I tried to enter in this passage. It appeared muddy, low; and after 15 metres, I stopped when the pre-existing guideline got trapped in a too-narrow section. After going out of the cave, I undressed under the sun shafts, into the wild nature, and drank an alcohol-free can of beer for rehydration purposes. After that, I went back to Paris, not without bursting a tyre.

An extensive transcription of a diary would take many pages in addition to be boring. I present below only the most representative parts and the widest possible outlook.

6 July 2005

I left the lodge very late after a long sleep with many dreams and the sound of raindrops falling on the roof. I stopped to observe the Puits de la Brême (it is a shaft that can be dry or full of water according to the weather), which was still absorbing surface water despite the rain. It was a good indication regarding the underground flow, and I thought, ‘Very well, the dive will be possible!’

Due to other important recent dives, I hadn’t fully proofed my material, and this is perhaps the mistake that has shortened the dive. After having jettisoned the stage tank, I found myself unable to breathe on the starboard regulator. I didn’t recognise its usual shape, probably because its lid had been unscrewed by rubbing and was lost somewhere in the cave. I didn’t panic at all: I had still two tanks, each containing enough gas to go out. But I have been obliged to stop and go back! By chance, I succeeded to find the lid after 300 metres and even to screw it. I have been able to observe temperature variations in the same place where, during outwards, I saw a very clear-cut separation between clear groundwater and more opaque surface water.

Having no longer regulator problems, I started the exploration of the left bank passage. It was muddy, and a block has possibly fallen after the guideline has been laid by predecessors. It would explain the trapping of this guideline in a narrow section. There was a sensible stream and warm water, 12 degrees Celsius in place of the usual 10 degrees Celsius.

During July 2005

It has rained again. This is demoralising at least because it is difficult to estimate the quantity of water that has fallen. It gives the false feeling that all is rising. In fact, all the sumps are in good conditions. Outside, one isn’t very comfortable when dressing because of the moisture.

Now I know quite well the entrance of the cave and other proximal tough sections. I should try to dive with back-mounted tanks rather with side-mounted material. It should improve my speed in the sump. The French literal translation of ‘using side-mounted tanks’ is ‘to dive in the English fashion’. I should also think to more powerful lights. This is not very useful in muddy water, but sometimes water can be clear! Anyway, buying material costs money. The decision to buy (or not) more powerful lights is a kind of commitment.

I laid 150 metres of guideline. The ancient guideline stopped, and with my ‘light’ guideline of diameter 1.5 millimetre, it was less safe. I found a larger and less muddy passage. I was able to observe several deposits of gravels and laminated clay. This part of the cave has probably had a complex history. When coming back, I continued the exploration of the left bank passage. I had consumed a part of my air, but this passage is close to the entrance. I encountered alternations of warm and cold water, and the visibility turned to be too poor for a proper survey.

Recently, a rival has tried to dive into the cave, and I found a piece of his material near the tag ‘100 metres’ of the first guideline, near the entrance. This is a strange piece of regulator with a male direct system fixed on its hose, probably an element of a rebreather.

Even at the present time, I am very reserved regarding the fact of using a rebreather at place of the main tanks and not ‘in addition’. My personal philosophy is that, in case of problem, it must be possible to jettison the material that has failed and has ceased to be useful. One must be able to try to escape with the rest. It must be noticed that a rebreather flooded by water can create huge problems of balance in addition to the drag and its inertia; not jettisoning it exposes to a huge loss of autonomy. I have developed this philosophy especially during tests in the Source de l’Écoutôt and also because I had read The Sky My Kingdom. As explained in chapter 2, this book has been written by a German woman who was a test pilot before and during WWII, after having started with gliders. She tested the most complicated and hazardous planes of her time. The surroundings are different, but there are also striking similarities with cave diving. There are no numbers, few or no technological tricks to find, in her book. This is something more general, and many stories are interesting also from a psychological point of view. For instance, she explains how she succeeded to survive after her glider got trapped into clouds with a hail storm.

During July 2005

I dove with back-mounted tanks and consumed almost 16 litres per minute; I spent 134 minutes underwater and got chilled. I stopped only because I lacked guideline. I succeeded to avoid getting entangled near the entrance. The places with 12 degrees Celsius warm water have been more than welcome. I measured many cross sections when coming back. In addition to the entanglement, during the measurement of the last cross section, I made a mistake regarding the direction of the exit. Thanks to the tags with arrows, I finned only a short time in the wrong sense and solved quickly this mistake. One of the most perverse effects of cold is that it can alter memory and thoughts. I have already encountered this situation when diving the Grande Fontaine de Sommelonne.

7 January 2006

I looked for a passage between the tags 40 metres and 100 metres of the guideline, but I found nothing.

15 January 2006

After caving with some friends, I prepared my material in order to dive. I had cross sections to measure. Obviously, it is difficult or impossible for some other people to understand what I do and why I do that.

I spent 134 minutes in the cave. I used two stage tanks in order to verify that it was possible to enter into the cave with such a burden. I had prepared a maximum of things in the lodge in order to avoid the cold outside the cave. Nathalie was here, and she helped me to dress. After that, she rolled herself into two sleeping bags; she waited for me and slept. During the beginning of the dive, I have been too hot because of the efforts of carrying two stage tanks in the entrance. My speed was 1,000 metres per hour, which is quite good regarding the morphology of the cave. One can pull oneself on holds only in the first 300 metres of the cave.

It was a long journey, and sometimes I have lost my concentration; thoughts about uninteresting people of the milieu of cave diving have arisen. At a larger time scale, the use of enriched air mixtures rendered the dive very comfortable. The depth is not very important, but spending a long time at -15 metres leads to a certain saturation whatever decompression tables can state. Surveying cross sections is very important. Unknown places are not only in front of the diver but also beside him. Uncanny and unknown territory lies all around. If you get lost, a good knowledge of the shape of the cave may allow you to quickly solve the problem.

When surveying the section that corresponds to the tag 730 metres of the guideline, I have discovered that this part of the passage, which appeared so frightening, has just the shape of a huge penstock with clay banks. The visibility depends on the place. The image of a tiny plane flying through clouds and misty valleys is very pregnant.

After the dive, Nathalie has helped me and has been very kind with me. She knew that this dive was very important for me, and she has done her best. I succeeded to sleep during the first time of the travel towards Paris. After that, I was able to finish to drive our car.

29 January 2006

I made a dive for 190 minutes. I was obliged to stop laying guideline because of the lack of anchors: I let one-kilogram ballast and a carabiner in order to tie the end of the guideline on it. In addition to this première, I surveyed a cross section when coming back at the tag 830 metres. Things that were weird, frightening or worrying have become gradually known and are now a source of happiness. Pretty could be the right word.

The visibility was quite poor (how many times will I repeat this sentence?), and in order to lay my guideline, I followed a clay bank aside the passage. Lying guideline when doing première changes the fashion to ‘read’ the cave. As aforementioned, the attention devoted to pre-existing guideline can be fully dedicated to the cave itself. From a mental point of view, a good balance must be found. Being too reserved is good for safety, but this does not allow to make the maximal première, whereas being too euphoric is good for the première but not for safety.

I am very happy!

This dive was a great source of satisfaction and strongly contrasted with federal and politic problems in which I was still involved. A few times after this dive, I participated a meeting in the house of one of the cave divers from Paris region. It was a meeting about cave diving rescue.

Rescue should, in principle, be one of the more selfless activities of caving. But here, a crude rivalry appeared. I was on one side, and the other cave divers, all from the same club, were on the other side. All my forecasts have been confirmed by the issues of the meeting and the fashion it took place. Some people—all from the same club—were present despite the fact they did not answer to the email invitation. They also did not answer to the emails I had sent related to the conception of a cave diving rescue exercise. They just criticised it during the meeting. The planned agenda has not been followed during the meeting. This was very probably a fashion to try to destabilise me.

Those people have tried to impose their views during the whole meeting in place of fair negotiations, discussions and suggestions. Nobody has criticised my level or my abilities. I was criticized exclusively regarding the form and the appearances. They reproached me for not having respected very vague rules that they didn’t respect themselves or that they had freshly invented. They even had more incredible reproaches on the fact my emails were not easily readable, which is totally false. I am very careful regarding this aspect of things, and I always structure and proof the text. Were they not able to use their own computers? They also pretended that they didn’t understand what ‘doing the survey of a sump in order to look for a missing diver’ meant. This is very strange, though one of the divers has made a lot of surveyed explorations. Perhaps he wanted to please his ‘friends’? Eventually, they refused the use of gas mixes (mixes containing more oxygen and less nitrogen than air) for the exercise, which is against the most elementary safety regarding decompression!

Even years later, I am still unable to choose between the two following explanations:

- Perhaps they were really short-sighted. Perhaps they didn’t realise that their ideas, very well structured at a short scale, were totally contradictory at a larger scale.

- Or perhaps were they totally aware of what they did. Perhaps they regarded cave diving rescue as a tool of power among other tools of power. And if this explanation is the right one, what kind of power did they expect? At least, this event has provided me a new view of what they were: a social class whose power is linked neither with personal competences nor with personal understanding. Their power is only linked to the network of relationships they can establish or to the image they can give. Anyway, I think cave diving is a serious activity. This is not a sandbox. This is not a place to reach the social level one is unable to reach in other parts of life. In a sump, you are alone to solve any problem and to find the exit; your only power is material and intellectual. Hence, of course, I have resigned from this kind of cave rescue. I still regret (again, cave rescue should be selfless), but at least, it is impossible to crush someone if he is not in the proper place to be crushed. I will never go back to cave diving rescue trainings.

13 October 2007

I started for the première. Two 12-litre stage tanks were in the sump since the last summer. In addition, I started with a 10-litre stage tank and another one of 7.5 litres. I wore thick underclothes, so I found myself too cold when starting. The visibility was very good, and sometimes I was able to see for the first time the sections of the gallery exactly as I had drawn them. I finned quickly, at ease.

I found the foam on the stage tanks (it lightens them) crushed by more than two months of immersion. Once arrived in the ‘deep’ zone, I found myself slightly stressed. It was more than 1,000 metres far from the entrance, and the only guideline was mine. But all was OK, and I was able to progress … until I found a ball of guideline. Because of the flow enhanced by the rainy days of autumn, the guideline has broken and has drifted. This was problematic because I found myself unable to use the reel I had left at its end. I have just a safety reel, and if I used it, I would then be unable to solve any further problem. But I found quickly another solution to this vital problem. I tied this ball with rubber bands in order to stop the process, and I went back, relieved. I needed probably a ‘blank’ dive in this remote area for a better habituation, and that is exactly what happened. I came back at ease and was even able to measure two cross sections. I succeeded to bring out all the stage tanks. They were quite cumbersome, but the most difficult has been to remove them once outside in the very shallow water of the entrance.

2 November 2007

I dove in order to carry stage tanks at the right place. I made many pictures with my waterproof camera. I observed a ‘paragenetic channel’ in the ceiling of the passage not very far from the entrance. During its history, the gallery has probably been totally filled with silt. Water created itself a pathway above the filling.

4 November 2007

The sky was overcast with grey clouds, something that was partly mist, partly drizzle. Nevertheless, the hydrology remained perfect for the première. I started again with two stage tanks and worn my old seven-millimetre-thick neoprene dry suit. The weather was cold and allowed a painless, sweat-less dressing.

Farther, the water was still very clear, and I progressed very easily. Sometimes I was able to fin at almost 20 metres per minute with the stage tanks! Just at the beginning of the deep zone, I jettisoned the fore-last stage tank and used the last full of 50 % oxygen mix. It diminishes the saturation and avoids any decompression stop. I jettisoned also the flask I carried after having drunk half of its content. It was full of pineapple juice, very good for rehydration and sugar intake. I was no longer hot when I arrived on the ball and tied on my new reel. I progressed. It went up. It turned. It ended 80 metres after the beginning of the new guideline. I was at the ceiling, near what seemed to be the left wall of a passage, with a little dome aligned with a joint. I decided to stop here, for the level of risk had increased. The visibility had vanished. I was in a non-already-known passage, and it was far from the entrance. I left a piece of ballast and a peg as anchors. Cutting the guideline and tying it on the reel has been a very delicate operation. It took me as much time as the 80 metres of exploration.

Sometimes the visibility was awful, but I did my best to make notes. Without measurements and without survey, my incursion and the risk would have been meaningless. I found back the last stage tank and the flask, and I finned. The visibility improved only in an area that contains fallen slabs. Unfortunately, I have been unable to take pictures. My camera hadn’t enough autonomy. I found back the other stage tanks and finned. Except the hands, I was not cold. I decided to continue to drag all the stage tanks despite the fact they slowed me down. Again, the visibility became poor, and I found myself obliged to use other senses than sight. I went out without further problem despite the flatness of the entrance. I removed my equipment, undressed, drank what remained in the flask and carried the material back to the car.

I went back to the barn and thought to all that when driving. I thought to the life that flows, to all what I had to do. The directions of the passage seemed to change. Perhaps it stopped on the hypothetical boulder, which would limit the cave’s flow rate. It would be coherent with the presence of mud, but I have no other evidence.

Up to the present time, I never succeeded to come back to this terminus because of several reasons I explain in other parts of this book. Thus, I don’t regard the exploration of the main branch of the Source de l’Écoutôt as a past work. After 2007, I continued to dive and to make notes.

30 July 2008

My goal was to find a secondary passage and to take pictures with a new camera. But I was ill. My sinuses were blocked, and below -2 metres, it was too painful. I gave up.

29 September 2008

My goal was to do some observations and to explore the passage I have named Bingo-Crépuscule, which is at right when going inwards. In this passage, the visibility was better than the last time I visited it. However some sections were narrow or flat, and sometimes the guideline was difficult to catch.

The entrance zone is quite chaotic. It seems that in an initial wide bedding plan (gap between two horizontal strata), passages looking like penstocks have developed, led by joints (vertical very narrow cracks.) All that looks like a delta. Farther from the entrance, the same configuration can be seen again. Before the beginning of the Potholes Gallery (Galerie des Marmites), it is possible to see something wide with many irregular rocky shapes.

I have had also a look on a second secondary passage, which is also at right when going inwards. It looks like a small flooded meander. Just before the first known bell, at almost 400 metres from the entrance, I have found another new bell.

After this dive, I have continued the exploration of the Bingo-Crépuscule passage. At the end of this flooded zone, one finds a ‘dry’ zone. Using a rope, it is possible to drop down in a kind of cone full of muddy water. I know its depth only because my timer has recorded it. The visibility was too poor during the dive. It is ten meters deep or slightly less if one takes into account the fact that mud is denser than water! The name Bingo-Crépuscule is issued from the film Un Long Dimanche de Fiançailles with the actress Amélie Poulain playing one of the characters, because it is a tough place.

I have begun several rebreather tests in the cave during 2009. Except those tests, 2009 and 2010 have been years of depression regarding my explorations here. I have started again serious things in 2011, but things turned to be less easy than at the beginning, in 2004. I already knew all the ‘easy’ parts of the cave that are close to the entrance, and I had no longer the satisfaction of discovering them. More exactly, it is more difficult to be in the mood of discovery. This kind of satisfaction is the basis of the progression that allows step by step to reach the farthest point of the cave. In the same cave, one cannot benefit twice of this kind of help. Therefore, from the moral point of view, preparing an incursion in order to reach the terminus is less easy. Regarding weather too, some years are better than others. In addition, the cave slowly evolves, and I find regularly more silt and mud deposits in some places. Wholly speaking, the visibility has become worse. For instance, I have installed two stage tanks in the sump during August 2013; and more than 15 months after, I have not yet found the right conditions to go farther.

Human Aspect of Things, Violence and Social Evolution

Up to the present time, I regard this cave not only as an object to be explored and surveyed. It acts also as a kind of mirror. It throws back an image; it helps me to develop thoughts and considerations about my situation and to define or solve some of the problems I encounter with other people. Very often also, it helps me to have a very remote regard on our modern age and to precise my ethics. It is one of the places that sustain my personal development. This is because it is a long cave; it requires finning during a long time, and so it allows thoughts to develop. This is also perhaps because it has tough sections. Once known, passing them enables the distraction and thoughts that would have been forbidden to other people encountering them for the first time.

This cave helped me to realise that in our occidental civilisation, many people are in trouble because they have ideals, role models, which are practically unreachable. An extreme caricature is perhaps the case of black women who want to become blonde because ‘one’ has presented the blonde women as perfection. They want to reach that perfection, oblivious of their original beauty, and they fail. When diving in the Source de l’Écoutôt, I have realised that one must have one’s own ideals and avoid to believe in other people’s ideals. To a certain extent, if you believe in the ideal of another person, you give to this person a grip and power on you. This is a kind of alienation, and it is of first importance to avoid it.

Anyway, I like this cave very much, and I don’t give up whatever other people’s opinions. When I insisted on the gas consumption and other parameters in my diary, I was probably worried by a possible competition with other people. Indeed, competition was not only about première but also about pointless things, which can build the image of someone. Those pointless things conceal frequently a huge violence to such an extent that I dare to do a comparison with WWI. Things look also like WWI because of the mix of material and pristine nature, and because the days before have irreversibly gone (this is a milestone for the road to modern age).

I’m not the only who thinks of a link between development and progress on the one hand and violence on the other hand. The famous philosopher Hannah Arendt reflects about that, especially in a chapter entitled ‘Tradition and the Modern Age’ of his book Between Past and Future. The idea that days have irreversibly gone is valid at the scale of the whole human history as well as at the scale of any person who remembers his/her own childhood. Childhood affords time to dream and to transform the world, as well as time to enjoy trouble-free long summers. After childhood, summer is always too short and dreams too scarce.

Of course, the likeness with WWI is a very partial one: cave diving is a pacific activity. On my side at least, there is no enemy to eliminate in order to reach a goal. In addition, the hierarchy of caving is the one of a whole society (not the one of an army that couldn’t exist by itself). In principle, elections and democratic processes exist among clubs and federations.

However, some facets of cave diving are very close to the heroic face of warfare, and the word tank speaks by itself. From the point of view of words, sounds and images, many other objects are related at the same time to warfare and to cave diving. The cave diver has a helmet with lamps at place of its panache. The suit he wears can be seen as an armour. The equipment process, before entering into the sump, is sometimes very complex and takes a lot of time. The diver wears a lot of material, and outside water, he is too clumsy to move easily by himself. This can be compared to the situation of a medieval knight helped by a squire before riding his warhorse. All that is related to pure chivalric values even if the warhorse has disappeared. It is superseded, sometimes, by a propeller. However, using a propeller is different to ride a warhorse. A better comparison could be made with the steering of an aircraft.

Even if chivalric values and heroism are still perceptible, cave diving is closer to modern and technological war, where you don’t have a total control over things and processes. Tanks used for diving are full of gas under pressure and can sometimes burst. They are filled with a mechanical compressor. It is a noisy machine that sings like a motorised vehicle or an aircraft. Stage tanks can be carried along the sump or jettisoned. There exist pictures showing a team posing near the heap of tanks needed for the successful exploration. Such a picture isn’t very different from a heap of shells or bombs.

Most people are unaware of that modern values. When reading specialised magazines, the image that appears beyond the text is only the heroic one. The successful exploration is the result of only one man, the diver who has made the première. There exists a team that has sustained him but only sustained him as the medieval squire served the knight. When prevention has not well worked, or when fate kills, one can even think of earlier moments of human history such as the Iliad and Odyssey or northern sagas. When a diver dies during cave diving, one finds often in some specialised reviews a kind of panegyric where his life and the fashion it has ceased are presented as a whole adventure. Frequently, a kind of underlying dramatic logic perspires as if all that was planned in advance. This can be regarded as a fashion, more developed than a simple première, to make the unlucky enter in the collective, perennial and universal history of cave diving.

I think that heroic images are not very interesting regarding prevention. More precisely, regarding cave diving commissions and editorial boards, it is quite paradoxical on the one hand to do prevention and on the other hand to subscribe to such a heroic scheme. Is it conscientiously done? This apparent image is also very different from the organisation that allows cave diving to be possible. It is true that the diver who leads the team and the diver who makes the première are often the same person. It is also true that this person cannot be changed, whereas the members of the team can be easily changed, added or removed. Nevertheless, few premières made with a team would remain possible without it.

I’m not very at ease with people who stand in between the situation of doing things alone with the corresponding consciousness and the situation of managing things at the size of a school, a plant or another big system. I think that either the results belong either to the whole team or there is no team. I have already written several times that I prefer caving and diving underground alone. It is foremost a fashion to escape from this modern social world I don’t like. But even alone, the encountered feelings, moods, sensations and rhythms are far from the realm of chivalry and heroism. This establishes another link with WWI. The proportion of time devoted to pure action is not very important, and a higher proportion is devoted to repetitive tasks of maintenance and preparation—to ‘routine’. One has to earn money, and one has to cope with ordinary everyday life when it interferes with caving projects. So in order to practise the true cave diving (the one that does not belong to newspapers and volatile information), one must be able to cope with stalemate during long periods of time as well as short moments of intense emotion and fear. It happens more or less frequently that a well-prepared incursion has to be postponed or cancelled as described above. Often, this is because the weather or the underground hydrology is not good enough. Sometimes it is simply because of weariness. It also happens because of technical problems, lack of visibility or weariness, that one has to come back to the exit of the cave without reaching any interesting goal. In comparison with other sportive activities, a lot of money, time and other resources are spent for a random yield.

The underground world is not so beautiful as the specialised reviews depict it. Regarding material and human optimisation, if you can see a person on a picture, it means that at least two persons were present. If you can see a large sump well lighted, it means that flashes have been installed. This cannot really correspond to the conditions of an engaged incursion. Regarding aesthetics, in dry caves as well as in sumps, the walls are more frequently covered with mud than with beautiful concretions. Generally, filthy is a more proper word than gorgeous. Diving in the total dark can be a challenge for a cave diver during a training session in order to show his motor ability, especially if he is sure to be able to turn on the light at every moment. Such an exercise is described in many texts. But during real cave diving, the visibility is different from the pure transparency of aesthetics and from the pure darkness of the texts. This is like moving in a more or less thick mist, where you have just enough visibility to see around you and not enough visibility to really see the surroundings. This is the main reason why diving alone is safer. Tightly following the guideline is compulsory as well as boring. When the visibility becomes lower, you have both hands on the guideline, and you are totally unable to turn on or off your lights as during a training session.

Some authors have written or said that in the trenches of WWI, there existed a permanent roaring sound that held each man at each time. They also reported that senses were more governed in an instinctive fashion by sound (they were less governed in a rational fashion by sight). With tanks as well as with rebreathers, this is exactly the same kind of situation. Some sounds mean ‘Incoming serious problem. Act and protect yourself immediately!’ Other sounds are on the contrary very impressive but don’t correspond to a real danger. For instance, air flowing along the ceiling can generate very strange noises. Darkness seems to be characteristic of underground worlds, and a book is even entitled Darkness Beckons. Nevertheless, my own opinion is that underground, you carry with you a dim permanent light that allows you a very partial sight. This is more likely comparable to the absence of darkness of some battlefields of WWI; they were lighted by flares even during night. Light and sound stop only when the war ends.

Lack of sleep and time shift, which were present 100 years ago, are also very present in my caver’s life. I do not think of the small-time shift due to the dozen of minutes or hours spent underground. Doing one’s job in an honest fashion and at the same time practising caving means that you are obliged to steal moments from your body and from your spirit. You have less time to let your body at rest. You have less time to dream during a shortened sleep. Sometimes it means working hard during a part of the night in order to scan maps, find information or build material. For the same reason, some weekends are devoted neither to action underground nor to rest. They are periods of non-paid job between two periods of paid job. Sometimes one has no other possibility than choosing between a proper physical training and enough rest; this is very demoralising, being able to bear all that is essential, and it is very far from chivalry. This is mostly a modern and economic warfare, where many essential choices must be done. For instance, would you buy a mattress or a new regulator?

Eventually, I want to confess an important reason to practise cave diving and to continue to practise it. I need a kind of balance between moral and physical violence. I regard our current world as something morally very violent because it is disappointing and devoid of real meaning. Very often, people act as if they were following a general logic that should be imposed on anybody. But in reality, they scarcely have a firm internal logic beyond their short time-scale egoism. I do not know if the proper word to call the health problems I had had during a period of my professional life is burnout or shell shock. Even if physical violence is prohibited, and despite the politeness of language, I think that our world is too coercive. This is the origin of its moral violence. In correlation, I think it is totally blind from a moral and organisational point of view. Many easy and costless optimisations or adjustments that could render a lot of people happy are not done. We are trammelled with a lot of rules and regulations that have lost their practical basis. They have become a world by itself, which isn’t the real and physical world.

A lot of resources are lost by static rules, lack of perspicacity and conformism. Therefore, I need another kind of violence in another part of my life in order to balance. Caves are the essential resource that allow me to develop and keep for myself the physical violence I need. Underground, if you do things alone, you owe any failure or success you encounter only to yourself. It is simple and devoid of any ambiguity. You can choose to do the optimisations you want, and you are the only responsible for the results. You can follow your own way and behave according to your own logic and your own moral values. In addition, nobody has to receive the violence you developed, which is wonderful. It must be noticed that violence and risk are two different things.

On the contrary of certain other cave divers (as well as certain soldiers, as described for instance by Siegfried Sassoon in his pseudo-autobiography The Memoirs of an Infantry Officer), I never take too much provisional risk. I have no motorcycle licence, I drive slowly my car, and I’m probably not regarded as the boldest man among cave divers.

Cave diving is my fate even if I strongly counsel to people who can choose their fate to choose another activity. There exist other open-door or artistic activities that are not submitted to the same stalemate and that give at least the same physical or intellectual satisfactions. If one is looking for that, they can also be very complex and technologic. Climbing and artificial climbing are one of the numerous possibilities, especially if one tries to avoid indoor climbing walls. I dare to write what other cave divers don’t write too frequently. I do cave diving only because I am less able to succeed in another activity. There is no military medal for doing cave diving, and even première cannot be regarded as a reward. The only reward, which is very cumulative, is to be still alive and not getting lost somewhere between front and home.

Certain divers are able to lie and boast. It seems to be compulsory if one wants to remain ‘well-known’. Instead of exaggerating things, I prefer to consider the low visibility (Picture 9.18) I described above as a metaphor of our terrestrial everyday life. It means ‘life at job’ or ‘out of caves’ realm’. Very often, we are blinded or trammelled by some problems we have contributed to create. Even if volatile and boring, these stupidities have an important and sustained impact upon our social life. If we would be able to lift our head, we could get a larger, cleaner and stiller horizon. The metaphor with the smog encumbering our mind is obvious too. We must save ourselves by developing deeper, wider and more abstract thoughts. (There is a trend, at least at my job, to avoid anything that would be conceptually too deep!) This second metaphor leads to cave intelligence. For instance, each gloomy measurement made underground becomes, once in the computer, a piece of a clearer survey. (As suggested in chapter 4, nothing is possible outside the concept of survey.)

Diving in this cave has always been a fashion to reconsider my social outlook. In addition, it is often a poetic exercise. This adds to the very material and objective data I want to bring back. Yet this does not supersede them. By ‘poetic’, I mean mainly the philosophy that is concealed inside aesthetics. When I’m going from my barn to the cave, I’m very close to the landscape. Once, I made the following notes in my diary:

The blue sky has crumbled away, leaving white clouds. It has rained. Then the rain has stopped. Now, a decreasing sun comes again. Its shafts are lighting the mist, drifting over the warm road, or they are going astray in the deep green woods on each side. This whole ‘green’ ranges over many undertones. There are the very light undertones of lit leaves. They contrast with the stronger green of leaves beneath the shadows. Some scientists, astronauts or cosmologists say that blue is the colour of life. Indeed, from space, Mother Earth appears blue because of her water. But I am persuaded that green is the true colour, which deals with life. Would it be anything alive without chlorophyll? In some African countries, the main colours are a deep blue sky and an ochre soil. But always green dashes point out life. And if you dive in the Atlantic Ocean or in many other places, the main colour is green again because of tiny algae and other living things. Yes, ‘green’ is a strange colour, and entering in ‘green’ is entering in another world. When colour is present, many pictures taken inside the Source de l’Écoutôt are seized by the green tinge too. All that is very far from the azure, one can find when diving under ice or in some Caribbean places. Is it a liquid forest whose only solids remains are tales?

Having green leaves near the entrance of the cave shows clearly the border between peace and war, technology and nature. I also made more social notes:

Development is wealth only if it is adapted to who is to develop. Aims, techniques and teaching of caving and cave diving can be regarded as development, so the previous idea applies to them too. Very frequently in our Western European world, development is imposed to people by means of sundry constraints. This isn’t often a personal process of continuous improvement. The basic dogma assumes that only one kind of collective development is the best, regardless to who is concerned. Other people have just to follow this development. Of course, they are neither supposed to forestall it nor to ‘take what is good and let the dregs’. Whatever the price to pay, I refuse to enter this frame where the worst addiction is to want to resemble to other people. If fairies exist underground, my muse of sumps has probably long dark hair, brown eyes and a lightly tanned face.

Consistently, I think of all that when I find the first hundred metres of the sump. I think also to people with whom I have had problems. As a caver, it can happen to be despised by people who don’t understand what you are doing. Once outward, I turn to a strange mood, realising that one is able to be here in addition to the other terrestrial things one is able to do. This is a release. There has been violence but just something physical. This balance is necessary to bear the extreme moral violence of our common terrestrial life. All that gives a deep subjective beauty to this cave I love and often dreamt of. My mind is never far from ancient poetry, for instance Blake’s ‘Angel’:

I dreamt a dream! What can it mean?

And that I was a maiden Queen

Guarded by an Angel mild:

Witless woe was ne’er beguiled!

And I wept both night and day,

And he wiped my tears away;

And I wept both day and night,

And hid from him my heart’s delight.

So he took his wings, and fled;

Then the morn blushed rosy red.

I dried my tears, and armed my fears

With ten thousand shields and spears.

Soon my Angel came again;

I was armed, he came in vain;

For the time of youth was fled,

And grey hairs were on my head.

The non-poet that I am could reply to his verses by a short prose: where is the difference between dream and reality? The man I am is often obliged to be his own guardian angel, and my only true sorrow is to be obliged, sometimes, to be far from karst and caves. It happened I shed tears in my mask during some painful tests of material I couldn’t suddenly stop. It is true that I no longer see some people I frequently saw in the past, when I was young. It is unavoidable that my hairs turn white.

Objective Elements

Before ending this chapter, I would like to give a material description of this cave, which is a very real object. Otherwise, all my efforts would be worthless and meaningless. It is located in the east of France, in the department of the Doubs, which is a part of the geographical Jura. Its coordinates are 47°05’57” N and 06°02’20” E. This cave is a part of a hydrological system presumed very large. It includes other sumps such as the Source du Maine and the Puits de la Brême. A link is presumed with the water that flows in the bottom of some caves of the plateaus above (Picture 9.6). I dived a lot in this cave, but I have also surveyed the Puits de la Brême and other caves alone. Together with Denis Langlois and other friends, we have re-explored the Gouffre du Paradis, dived its sumps and found new things. Here, I focus only on one cave.

The whole shape of this cave can be seen on a map (Picture 9.7). Knowing the directions, lengths, widths and heights of the galleries is necessary to know the cave, although it is not enough. The survey has been made underwater and alone. Hence, its precision corresponds to the degree 3B of the British Cave Research Association. It is interesting to describe some shapes and sediments that can be found at different places inside the cave. This adds a minimal geomorphological understanding to the raw shape. The entrance itself is very rich. One can peer (Picture 9.8) the two main directions of weaknesses of the bedrock roughly at N 017° (athwart the entrance) and N 115° (quite along the entrance). These directions emerge also from the direction diagrams resulting from the survey. Eventually, NNE direction appears also (Picture 9.6) to a privileged direction for faults. After the entrance flat narrow passage (Picture 9.9), one can observe scallops and flutes (Picture 9.10). I presented briefly such wonders in chapter 8. The entrance looks like an underground delta formed in the main bedding plane. There are other impenetrable outlets, for instance just on the actual bank of the River Loue at 47°05’56” N and 06°02’18” E. This part of the cave is flat, larger than high.

At about 120 metres from the entrance, one finds a fork. We continue with the left gallery, which is the main one. After this area, one finds a different shape. It has been called the Galerie des Marmites (Potholes Gallery) by the first explorers. Sometimes it presents curved grooves, which can be interpreted as former meanders, and one can find many large flooded potholes (Picture 9.11). They suggest this part of the cave has not always been a sump. Corrosion seems very active; one can find again scallops and other dissolution shapes. At about 375 metres from the entrance, the morphology changes again. One finds a mud slope located under a bell. It has not at all the shape of a church bell and looks rather like a part of upper gallery. Then the sump develops deeper after this interruption. The depth varies, but all details suggest that without the bell, there had been a slow regular descent from the entrance. The presence of a bell suggests a former breakdown, acting as a boulder (Picture 9.12).

Blocks of mud have fallen on the guideline between successive dives (Picture 9.13). They indicate that in some places there is also mud at the ceiling. It is very likely that such a deposit formed during a series of episodes where the cave was alternatively totally flooded or not. Perhaps in a past epoch, it was a sump only during rises after rainy episodes. Other deposits indicate a complex evolution of the cave. One can find in several places successive beds of sediments of variable graining. The coarse ones are pebbles of size of order of the centimetre (Picture 9.14). They have been transported by only a non-flooded stream with an important velocity that can transport such pebbles. The succession of beds indicates repeated variations of speed. Seasonal variations during a glacial era are a possibility. At about 500 metres from entrance, one finds a weird place where ribs are present (Pictures 9.15). It is admitted that ribs cannot form in flooded surroundings. This is an additional evidence that the cave, at least from the entrance to this part, has not always been flooded. At about 840 metres from the entrance, one finds again the same kind of morphology than at 350 metres. There is a bell with a breakdown, and the sump is temporarily shallower. (The free surface can be seen, and it is difficult for the diver to keep a proper buoyancy and balance; it would a possible temporary shelter in case of problem, for instance to repair a regulator).

After this bell, one finds again variations of depth and many mud banks (Picture 9.12). The visibility (Picture 9.18) is often poor up to 1,200 metres from entrance. Then one reaches a deeper part of the sump (Picture 9.16). There is few or no mud, and the section is rectangular with slabs fallen from the ceiling. The clearer groundwater, as well the morphology, suggests that this part of the cave has always been a sump. After several hundred of metres, the sump becomes shallower again and muddy again. The current terminus is shallow (-3 metres). Sometimes the lack of proper natural anchors has obliged to ballast the line with small pieces of lead (Picture 9.17). It has not been possible to see clearly something. A possible hypothesis is that the penetrable conduit encounters a breakdown that trammels the flow. This would explain the mud. Perhaps this breakdown is penetrable, or perhaps it is not.

I have re-explored the Bingo-Crépuscule zone at right and 120 metres from the entrance. It has some narrow parts, and there is a bell. This branch ends in a ‘dry’ place. In this place, one finds a kind of muddy waterlogged crater, having a depth of about 10 metres. It is interesting to superimpose the survey on a geological map (Picture 9.6). Except the entrance zone, the sump is aligned with the main fault direction. The Bingo-Crépuscule gallery suggests that faults can lead the cave as well as limit it.

Picture 9.1: The Source de l’Écoutôt is tributary of the river Loue. This is a green and remote place where Nature is still the Queen…

Picture 9.2: … It strongly contrasts with what can be found inside the cave. Exploration cannot be made without technology; after having made the photograph I have removed this very big and heavy reel left by the predecessors.

Picture 9.3: During rainy weather, the cave rises and cannot be dived.

Picture 9.4: Water appears still but isn’t, for the photograph has been made without flash. There would be no visibility inside the sump.

Picture 9.5: (Courtsey of Nathalie Boudinet) This cave is quite shallow but a lot of material is needed. The weight of the four tanks (about 60 kg) is balanced by Archimedes buoyancy, but drag and inertia remain!

Picture 9.6: Location of the caves and geological details.

Picture 9.7: Plane view of the Source de l’Écoutôt. Because of the amount of data, it is convenient to start from each section to find its location, rather than starting from the location to the section.

Picture 9.8: Entrance of the cave and fracturation directions N017° and N115°. Inside the cave, they very frequently lead the gallery. Upper right one can see two directions diagrams. The proper one contains 30° classes compatible with measurements precision. The other illustrates how false statements could be made without proper mathematical considerations

Picture 9.9: Beginning of the sump. This is a flat narrow part where one has to find one’s way with the guideline sometimes in one hand and sometimes in the other one.

Picture 9.10: Scallops and flutes inside the Source de l’Écoutôt. The height of the stratum is about one foot.

Picture 9.11: A flooded pothole hollowed out inside another larger flooded pothole whose size is almost 2 metres. This part of the cave has not always been flooded

Picture 9.12: Elevation of the cave. It suggests that several breakdowns occurred, acting as boulders. The vertical scale is exaggerated eight times.

Picture 9.13: A block of mud fallen on the guideline. It suggests deposits of dry clay above, at the ceiling.

Picture 9.14: Layers of pebbles. The stream was strong enough to transport them after what they have been cemented perhaps during a dry episode. This suggests anew this part of the cave has not always been flooded.

Picture 9.15: Ribs. They suggest this part of the cave has not always been flooded.

Picture 9.16: Picture taken during action, which explains its fuzziness. Inside Les Champs de la Liberté (“Liberty Fields”). Its real size is about 2 metres.

Picture 9.17: Small pieces of ballast used as anchors, far from entrance.

Picture 9.18: The visibility can easily vanish. The interval between the two photographs is about 3 s, then I left my camera and took the guideline with both hands.

DOING WITH COMPLEX SYSTEMS

I have never been able to behave as a component of a very large system I cannot (and shouldn’t?) wholly understand. Someone else would perhaps give up, but I have always tried to have a minimal comprehension of these kind of things. This is compulsory if one wants to act. One of the reasons why people get lost when they have to cope with complexity is that it has to be investigated otherwise; most of the methods taught at school are useless. Elementary lessons of physics and related sciences often focus on low-size systems, and the job to do is nearly always to predict what will happen over time or at the end of an event. The example of an object submitted to forces and studied using Newton’s laws will probably speak very well to some readers. Nevertheless, the understanding of complex systems has other aims. It must very frequently cope with the uncertainty Newtonian laws are precisely intended to avoid. It is probabilistic, multivalent and it needs other representations. All that is also related to the notion of emergence I brushed in chapter 8. It is very amazing to realise that caving, which takes place in underground networks, is also a good prototype to understand other kinds of complex networks. In our current world, if you want to do something, you have to face complex systems that look like mazes. This is, of course, also true out of caves but less obvious because of the existence of numerous and pre-established routines and rules. This is also less obvious because we all are born in that world. When you spend time with people who aren’t really able to think by themselves, it is sometimes a heavy burden that needs a clever way out. Doing things can be that way out.

From a very abstract point of view, doing complex things or with complex systems can be viewed as penetrating a network that extends between two walls. On one side, you have all what you can know or use from nature and social world. On the other side, you have all what you dreamt—all what you want and could obtain by a proper use of those resources. In between lies a jungle, a maze of all possible combinations of ideas, resources, things. What leads to what? With which risk? Which efficiency? Which probability, quantity or yield? In this game, you have to find the proper pathway to travel through this multi-dimensional maze from one wall to the other. This pathway must be safe enough, painless enough, efficient enough, quick enough etc. More generally, it must be the best pathway according to the dream you want to realise. It is quite difficult to develop a theory for finding such a pathway, yet some methods exist for solving certain categories of problems arising in the commercial or industrial worlds. If you have a pad and a pen, during reflection, you can quickly conjure up drawings, sketches, graphs and networks. This is quite natural. Then very theoretical calculations could follow-up if necessary.

However, I prefer to develop the poetic face of the maze. This is a world of shadows, and when you stay at one side, the other side is murky. It can only be partially seen. Some of its parts are too far. If you are on the side of dreams you want to realise, you have only a remote view of the resources you could use. The most obvious are not always the most useful; sometimes it takes a long time to sketch a proper pathway full of twists and turns. Such a pathway is almost impossible to explain to those who stand on the size of the resources, for most people will never be able to understand a dream or to understand why fulfilment is so important.

It is impossible to precise on which side ‘truth’ lies in a vision that resembles Plato’s Cave. The chains that imprison men in Plato’s Cave have been used in our modern age to weave a kind of iron curtain. Those who want to cross the curtain and reach the side of dreams are often regarded as strangers or dangerous antisocial offenders. The majority who dwells quietly on the side of resources is shocking. Indeed, people who do so are to a certain extent out of a certain normality. It joins the concept of hacker. This word doesn’t exclusively mean doing strange and complicated informatics. Hackers define themselves as using objects regardless of their official purpose. The notion of using something ‘according to the rules’ totally disappears; the only remaining notion is the one of what is possible (or impossible) to do with an object or a system. I have learnt that from several persons who taught me cave diving and caving. Some of them have evolved in other directions few years later. They are no longer on the right side, but it doesn’t matter. This iron curtain also represents the fact that, in our modern age, dreams must exist but must remain unreachable. Consciously or unconsciously, it is assumed that their existence is responsible for the motion of the system and that if they could be touched and realised, the system would stop or even disappear. Cave diving gives a small-scale example of what I want to express. Some leaders ‘own’ exploration projects that can work properly only if many other persons participate without claiming their portion. They are used as Sherpas, assistance divers etc. Only the leader or the few leaders will dive far in the cave, make the exploration by itself and ‘own’ the results. If you are the leader, you want to attract other people, gather them around the project. You have to ensure that they believe this project will bring them back something they want. But if they could really have their portions of the results, this would strongly reduce yours with the risk that your project vanishes. So the system you have built works only if dreams exist but cannot fully be realised by the persons you use. I’m not able to weigh dreams’ worth or dreams’ colour, but I could as well write that in such situations, you can realise your dreams only if you kill other people’s dreams whatever they are. This is not acceptable even if I have encountered people who have no precise dreams and who participate to projects only in order to socialise. The temptation to do things with such persons must be well balanced by the fact that, according to my experience, they have limited will and skills.

The ideas developed above bring us back to an underground labyrinth where one must challenge a minotaur and where sometimes one wins. But this minotaur is more intricate than Theseus’s beast, in addition to being uglier. Physical violence and sword are not the proper tools to fight such a beast, which foremost belongs to a conceptual world. When you want to do something to reach your dreams, you not only have to overcome the problems you encounter with each person you have to interact with. You not only have to overcome individual lack of understanding and individual differences regarding taste. You not only have to avoid giving to other persons the image of someone who is foolish or who makes hazardous things. The most difficult is, as a sole person, to deal with something that is more than the sum of many other persons. This is a very deep subject, which, anew, brushes emergence as well as other philosophical and scientific concepts including the one of ‘phase transition’. It has shaped my life, and I develop a part of it below. My temporary conclusion is that escaping whole trends, trends shared by a lot of people, is very difficult. In other words, the beast one has to fight also looks like the Hydra. Here, doing something is indissociable of being a character tough enough to fight this beast.

Let us go back to the practice of caving, with its good examples at reduced scale. For instance, the equipment of a vertical cave must be very reliable and very clear. It is obvious one must avoid the ropes look like an intricate maze! However, the underlying network of ideas is indeed an intricate maze. This is one of the reasons why people don’t always ask the proper questions and why the conception of an optimal equipment belongs to the category of ‘complex problems’.

Regarding equipment, many tests, regulations and user manuals deal with questions such as ‘What strain or number of shocks can bear this material before failing?’ However, this isn’t always the most important. Another question exists: ‘In several situations, normal or abnormal, what is the failure probability of this material?’ In the realm of light techniques and painless techniques, an equipment can be unable to bear important strains but simultaneously more reliable than heavier rigs.

A probability of failure can be regarded as a ratio of two quantities: the total number of failures divided by the total number of tests. It has a sense only if both numbers are very high. So the complete answer to the question above can be approached only by means of numerous tests. Huge numbers are out of reach of the milieu of caving (mainly non-paid persons who have another job, limited amounts of time and money) and even out of reach of a sole material manufacturer. At this smaller scale, only the two following sub-questions are relevant:

First, with a restricted number of tests, what can be investigated in probabilistic terms regarding potential problems?

Second, when the reliability of certain materials cannot be fully asserted, how do you combine them in order to make a more reliable set?

The figures 10.1a and 10.1b exemplify the answer to the first sub-question. In a situation where one failure is observed over a series of ten (10.1a) or hundred (10.1b) tests, they indicate whether this result is probable or not according to the chances of deficiency during a sole test. The whole figure 10.1 shows that a high number of tests is compulsory to deduce a degree of reliability from a series of tests. Figure 10.1a shows that impossible for a small team of cavers reinvented as ‘test pilots’ or even for a single a material manufacturer. It can be reached only by a statistical study over the whole community of users and all the problems they have encountered. In addition, figure 10.1a shows that the result of ‘several’ tests—as those reported in some caving reviews—gives only little information. Especially, it does not allow to state that something is ‘perfectly reliable’ or ‘not very reliable’. Such meaningless affirmations are frequently propagated in the public opinion of the cavers’ realm. Figure 10.1b shows that for a series of hundred tests with ten problems, the failure probability can just be asserted to be in the interval (0.25,0.02), but this does not allow to assert it is strictly 0.1 (10%).

To answer the second sub-question, it is necessary to realise that items can be combined in series or in parallel. ‘In series’ means that a only one item having a defect corrupts the whole set. For instance, if you drop down in a pit, you can fall because the rope is defective or because your descending device works badly. ‘In parallel’ means that the set fails only if both items simultaneously fail. For instance, if you are at a fractionation, you can fail only if the fractionation breaks and the rope above breaks.

Figures 10.2a and 10.2b show how the failure probabilities of each item combine in the or and in the and case. When the failure probabilities are not too high (this corresponds to something that could be used ‘at first sight’), the defectiveness of the set is cumulative in the or case and higher than the one of each item alone. In the and case, chances of trouble are always lower than the ones of separated elements. In that case, the whole probability can be very low and ‘acceptable’ even if individual qualities are not (Figure 10.2c). Roughly speaking and as a cave diver, I accept a risk of dying during a test of order or no larger than 1 over 10,000. This is why I use (with the corresponding autonomy rules) always two independent tanks (and of course two independent regulators).

Developing this kind of analysis and putting it in practice is one of the keys of a safe and painless caving. Among the numerous conclusions that could be issued, I would insist on the following. In the or case, increasing the reliability of only one item is useless. The less trustable item governs the whole level of safety. For example, it is useless to screw a more reliable bolt hanger on a bolt that cannot be proofed and is not very reliable. In the and case, coupling two items can strongly increase the whole quality. For instance, a fractionation made on two bolts must always be preferred to a single-bolt fractionation.

Cavers or engineers aren’t the only ones to make probabilistic analysis. In his famous book Goodbye to All That, the poet Robert Graves explains that he and his fellows had worked out a formula for taking risks. These formulas were dependent not only on the surroundings but also on the level of fatigue: when you are very tired, in some situations, it is better to take a higher risk if it can shorten things.

In addition to that probabilistic analysis, many other factors must be taken in account in the practice of real caving. Nevertheless, all can be summarised as ‘finding the limiting factor and reducing it’. This is the basis of light techniques, of painless techniques, where one tries to obtain something more handsome with less-heavy items. They are regarded by certain cavers as special techniques reserved to an elite. However, I think they are only the logical evolution of caving practice when one tries to improve things.

The text above is almost the copy of an article I had written for an international review of caving. I had been reproached by the editor (who is a friend and whose pieces of advice were good according to the context) because of the frequent repetition of some words such as reliability. However, here, I preferred to use always the same precise words. Synonyms may have a slightly different meaning or rendering of the text dimmer. This article was entitled ‘Testing Caving and Cave Diving Material’ with the subtitle ‘Probabilities beyond Certitudes’. Its last idea corresponds to something I developed publicly some years ago among the École Française de Spéléologie (French Caving School). It has had a huge personal cost, and this is probably one of the reasons for having a very short career here. I have never been accepted as a monitor because of various pretexts.

Beyond those pretexts, I believe the true reason was that people from the EFS felt I was different from them. I believe that it dealt with the opposition that is made between people having a tree-like thought and people having a linear thought. I belong to the first category. It is said that it allows a kind of ‘parallel thought’, which is very useful in some situations. But more often, it is assumed that it corresponds to an important scattering of thoughts or even to foolery. In other words, a majority of persons having linear thoughts and who believe this idea feel very well that some other persons are different. Frequently, they don’t like you and they regard you as a scatterbrain. I know very well that problem; in addition of my caving career, it has cost me a position as a teacher and has created me a lot of professional problems.

Nevertheless, it is false that having tree-like thoughts leads to disorder and to the impossibility of developing something very structured. If there is a specificity, it is elsewhere. When you write a document, there is no other possibility to do it than in a linear fashion. However, the framework of your document—the plan with its chapters 1, 2 and its sub-chapters 1-1, 1-2 (Figure 10.3)—is exactly equivalent to a tree (Figure 10.4). Perhaps tree-like thoughts allow a quicker or deeper learning, but from the point of view of delivering information and working, it is exactly equivalent to having linear thoughts.

A difference arises only when the maze of your thoughts ceases to be tree-like and becomes more connected. In a simple fashion, one could sketch it with a drawing where several boughs or leaves join. The notion of a unique trunk or root, which is the origin of the rest, can disappear. Even if it remains, it is impossible to develop the whole into chapters and sub-chapters without breaking some connections. The big difference is here, and it deals with taste rather than with clarity. When you express thoughts that have a lot of connections and look like a maze, you are obliged to choose what connections you will break and to choose a root among many possibilities. Sometimes, even if the content is exactly the same, it happens that the root you chose isn’t the root expected or preferred by other people. Sometimes it happens that the connections you removed were strongly expected by other people as ‘natural’ whereas they don’t like the new connections you established. In our Western world, in principle, you cannot be discriminated on the basis of your skin colour, race, religion or beliefs. It is fascinating to see how this principle of equality vanishes when it faces less visible characteristics. Having ‘too’-complex thoughts can even be regarded as a disablement rather than a social skill. The freedom of expressing one’s ideas, which is regarded by the greatest number as the fundamental right, is a very relative notion. It appears also that the contents, the intrinsic value of ideas, are less important for a certain society than their positions inside certain networks. ‘Right’ and ‘wrong’ have become very relative.

With age, I have noticed that several authors, in the scientific domain as well as in the literary one, very probably have their ideas shaped in the very connected network sketched above. Some of them are regarded as difficult to read. It is always a very great pleasure to reconstitute the links they have been obliged to break in order to write their book. I have also noticed that some occupations are more open than others. For instance, in fashion and art, choosing the root and the connections to break is probably a part of what is called creativity. In addition of many betrayed dreams, the world of teaching seems, on the contrary, full of linearity. This is perhaps because it has to explain the world as it is and because the ‘right’ array of ideas has become more important than nature and the realm of matter. Another reason is that many people, pupils as well as teachers, are not able to build their own tree or network of ideas using the linear texts or speeches they receive. Without very precise plans, they are totally lost. I wouldn’t trust such people for cave diving or other engaged tasks. My own opinion is that the making of one’s own map is the basis of learning.

In addition, I feel this incompetence to build one’s plan as something very dangerous for mankind. When a lot of people have their ideas marshalled alike, this network of ideas becomes to a certain extent a living thing. This can be the beast evoked above. When more people think of the same ideas or when people think of the same idea more frequently, some pathways in the network are reinforced. Other pathways are weakened or disappear. When you have (at least) the same ideas and the same knowledge than other people but not marshalled like theirs, then you cannot belong to this living thing. If you are unable to conceal your difference, you can be regarded as an alien, an enemy of the beast. In the best case, you are not regarded at all. Whatever your skills and your knowledge, you are no longer supported by the society and you cease to exist. This must be avoided, but concealing daily one’s true thoughts is something very tiresome. Not believing but pretending to believe is the hardest thing I have ever done. This is an extreme moral violence. The difficulties of caving and cave diving are nothing regarding this everlasting effort. However, I will never be the ‘socialised man’ dreamt by Karl Marx. This is why I have defined myself as ultra-conservative since the beginning!

Picture 10.1: Over a series of ten (a) or hundred (b) tests, chances of observing 10% of problems versus the failure probability of the tested gear. With few tests (a), few can be said about the probability of failure. It can be in a wide range (yellow interval) from a low value to almost the unity. Statements of kind “it is very safe!” or “it is very unsafe!” have no scientific basis. With a greater number or tests (b), the chances of failure can be more precisely approached. However (purple interval) it remains impossible to certify a very precise value and to state something like “the probability of having troubles is 10%!”

Picture 10.2: A set of items in series (a) is always less reliable. The hazard is cumulative. It can be greater than acceptable even if each gear is by itself “acceptable.” The less trustable gear limits the whole reliability. A set of items in parallel (b) is always more reliable. The whole safety can be very high even with gears not very safe if used alone. An example of gears “in parallel” (c) with individual failure probabilities of 0.01 (1%, I would not risk my life with such a level of risk unless I would earn enough money to become retired!). The whole rate is 0.0001 (1 over 10000, I risk my life every day when driving my car or walking along the pavement).

Picture 10.3: A plan is strongly expected by the greatest number when communicating complex thoughts. However, something linear, like a plan…

Picture 10.4: …is perfectly equivalent to a tree ! The equivalence is no longer true when some leaves of the tree meet each other. This is why very complex thoughts must be simplified before expressing them. According to its culture and prejudices it can be more or less difficult for the audience to reconstitute the whole set. This is (also) situation where Time’s Arrow appears, because of potential irreversibility.

Picture 10.5: The same tree than Picture 10.4 with supplementary links (in blue). In order to be able to transform this more complex graph into a plane, some links have to be cut (in blue, the choice isn’t unique)…

Picture 10.6: …This leads to another plane, very different from the “expected” plane!

COLLECTIVE EXPLORATIONS

Friendship is the core of such projects. Telling about several journeys in Morocco, Libya and Algeria would take too much place. I just detail three explorations done in France.

Solo caving and cave diving are regarded as extreme or unsafe activities by many people, particularly those who are the most gregarious. They conflate their anxiety to be alone and fears having a real basis, to state that ‘caving alone is very engaged!’ However, collective caving can be regarded as more complicated and engaged than solo caving. This is especially true when one wants to reach a maximal production. The available resources to manage are more numerous because they include not only one character. Making all the characters present at the same time in the same place for a coordinated action is always less easy. Collective mistakes and hazards are less easy to anticipate and to prevent.

Participating to collective actions, organising training sessions or collective explorations has been a very interesting challenge. Regarding training sessions, I was very motivated and have done of my best. I organised and tried to give a whole pedagogical coherence where other people would have just participated or would have just satisfied themselves with disrupted gregariousness. This is why I have been very disappointed by the whole outcome of my investment regarding teaching of cave diving and caving. Hence, I prefer to remember some explorations I organised.

Exploration is the most interesting for being free. It is open, and it frequently contains pieces of high-level practice. I will never forget the explorations we made or the caves or the teams. The verb organised is very important and not fully equivalent to led. I prefer participative management, and the topography has been signed by the whole team, not by only one man who was the leader, the explorer or the diver. I have tried to afford things that were really interesting for all the participants beyond the gregariousness (Picture 11.1). When it was not possible, I have tried to make this part of the non-paid job alone.

Later, I have realised that this was in perfect accordance with my own conception of what can be the ‘surplus value’. This famous concept is controversial amidst Marxist and capitalistic outlooks. In a world of non-paid activities, this surplus value cannot correspond to money, but it can correspond to time. In a situation where each member of a team saves up his/her own time by belonging to the team rather than working alone, each member of the team generates for himself/herself some surplus value. This is a very positive egalitarian situation and very productive too. This is interesting for everybody. It is very different from a situation where a leader saves up his/her own time by ‘stealing’ time to the other members of a team. I have no time to waste, and I presume it is also true for the other people with whom I can play underground.

Because they are free, collective explorations allow to sieve and closely examine the motivations and outlooks of each participant. My friend Denis Langlois uses to say the following sentence: this is like inside a boat; if someone does not make his portion of the work, it is immediately apparent. Because it is a closed and tough environment exposed to some kind of hazard and from which immediate escape is impossible, team caving is very similar to the life of the crew inside a traditional sailboat or a classical submarine.

Exploration of the Gouffre du Paradis (Heaven’s Shaft)

With Denis and the other members of the crew, we wrote an article that has been published in the French review Spelunca. Rather than translating this article, unfortunately only in French, I prefer to remember other details and to present a wider overview.

I started alone the re-exploration of this cave during the year 2003. It has a bad reputation, for during the sixties, a caver got trapped in a narrow meander and died in the cave. At that time, the cave rescue had been unable to bring back the body of this unlucky caver outside. Therefore, during more than a dozen of years, the cave had been his grave. The entrance of the fatal meander had been clogged up with concrete in order to protect him.

Later, the concrete has been broken, the body removed and cave has been explored by the SHAG (Société Hétéromorphe des Amateurs de Gouffres [Heteromorphic Society of Shaft Lovers]) and the Spéléo Club de Dijon (Dijon Caving Club). Some members of this club were good divers and dived the sumps located in the deepest parts of the cave.

This cave has no impressive numerical parameters. Its dry parts have a depth less than 200 metres, it develops not on several dozen of kilometres and the sumps are not immediately deep or long. But this cave has many narrow parts. Its non-flooded parts are systematically wet, and it has enough pits. Either you must be a good caver or you will be over-tired and will give up. In addition, mud is omnipresent (Picture 11.2) in the lower parts of the cave; this is very demoralising and also physically problematic. Once mud has penetrated into the zips, underclothes, ascending gears and so forth, it becomes an intimate foe. The weather renders this cave as capricious as the Source de l’Écoutôt. But at that time, I and my friends lived near Paris, and coming to the cave was easier than coming to perhaps more beautiful caves located in the Alps or in the Lot. Eventually, it was the dreamed place for the explorations we dreamt.

The collective work has been the occasion to combine very different motivations and skills in order to generate more results in a shorter time than alone. The first time I invited people was during May 2004. Denis, his first wife and I made an incursion that allowed us to carry material in the deep parts of the cave, to learn these parts and also to discover what difficulties the existing equipment, bolts could generate during a collective incursion. Denis’s wife was chilled, and we had been obliged to build up an improvised shelter with survival blankets. We installed her inside this shelter and warm her using acetylene lights. Then she recovered and was able to ascend all the pits. The day after the course, we made some climbing. It was not my first time, but I was not at all experienced, and I had not climbed since a long time. In addition, because of the size of my feet, I had not been able to find proper shoes, so I was obliged to do the climbing with caving boots. When you are a beginner as I was, fear of height can become a limitation once you have climbed more than some metres, and this is exactly what happened.

Later, during the autumn, we had planned another incursion. Two members of the crew gave up the week before because they were ill or had other personal difficulties, and Denis and I were alone to go into the cave. Knowing that our power would be reduced, Denis decided to devote this incursion to a better re-equipment of the cave (Pictures 11.3 to 11.5). He regarded it not different from the equipment required for a cave rescue, which must very comfortable, very reliable. It has to save up time and pain and if possible to protect from rubbing and shocks of an awkward progression any transported material. Denis is a very sociable man, by far more sociable I am, so I still regret we were only two capable people this weekend. At least, we were able to buy some Mont d’Or and other cheeses from the region. The Mont d’Or can be eaten hot, and the recipe is simple enough to be described here. You have to open the round wooden box that contains the cheese, and you must remove a small piece of cheese on the top in order to create a hole. This hole must be largely filled with white wine, savagnin if possible. Then one must put the box in an oven few minutes. When the cheese has molten and has a nice crust, it is ready to eat with hot boiled potatoes. This time, we went astray from the original recipe. We replaced the white wine by Adelscott beer that is made with smocked malt. It gave our dish a very nice taste. In some teams, food and drink take a very important place, and this leads often to excess regarding alcohol as well as fat. We always have tried to avoid those excesses. We prefer drinking beer than wine because beer contains less alcohol and participates to a better rehydration. It is unavoidable to have a rich meal after caving, but we try to avoid meals underground. We find it is not very optimal regarding the loss of time and the tidiness. On the contrary, having enough water to avoid dehydration is very important. At that time, it was also useful to fill the acetylene lamps we used. Sparkling water is unusual but not useless, for the bottle is more resistant to perforation and crushing.

Being only two characters in the cave, we used Denis’s cordless rotating hammer in order to install new bolts at the best position. Except in some scarce places, it was quite uneasy. Either the passage was narrow and slippery or the rock had some weaknesses. We found a ready-to-fall stratum on the top of one of the first pits. The most important thing we made was to install rungs in the deep and narrow meanders, which lay between some pits of the cave. These rungs were made of steel tube, nuts and screws. They were not very different from the Big Bros used by climbers. Later, even if a small part of them was not enough reliable and failed under our feet, the rest allowed us a quick and safe displacement into the meanders.

With a more important crew, we made another incursion with the same goal. Several tasks taking place in different areas were devoted to teams of two or three people. For some friends, it was an occasion to install a ‘true’ equipment for a ‘true’ exploration. They had to be efficient by themselves, and they succeeded. This is very different from a training session with an instructor who corrects the mistakes (Pictures 11.6 & 11.8). They installed two wires that helped to cross a deep and muddy basin without falling into. Despite the fact we had forgotten a part of the bolts we had prepared, Denis and I continued to install rungs and bolts in a tough meander.

For other friends who were able to move safely in the cave but were not experts regarding the installation of equipment, carrying heavy bags containing tanks and other items has also been a good training. I am very reluctant to propose this kind of task too frequently, but sometimes it allows people to realise that transporting heavy loads needs skills beyond those needed by the exclusive practice of ‘sportive caving’ or ‘spelunking’. Even if you are only interested in spelunking, in case of problem—for instance, if you have to transport a wounded comrade—the aforementioned skills will be required.

During our incursion, we had had the visit of a group of people who wanted to do sportive caving in ‘our’ cave because they have been told that ‘ropes were installed and there was no need to carry any material’. They were very vulgar. They also seemed not very brilliant or deeply educated. One girl of their team absolutely wanted to pass where Denis was ‘because her breasts prevented her to pass higher in the meander!’ Denis, who really has a wide chest because he is a true sportsman, has been obliged to descend in a narrower part of the meander and to protect himself from a potential fall only with a strand of Dyneema! This was not the first time we were annoyed by people not involved in true exploration. One time a professional instructor phoned me to explain that he had been obliged to remove all the equipment because an examination took place in the cave and he was not informed that I was exploring it. This professional caver let my ropes and anchors inside the cave without reinstalling them. Didier, the instructor who had presented me the Combe du Creux, had heard about that story and felt obliged to make the re-equipment of the cave before I came back two weeks later. I’m forever grateful for his fair action.

The crew to which I belonged succeeded to perform two dives in the Grand Siphon (Great Sump), which had been explored by the divers from the Spéléo Club de Dijon up to a depth of 30 metres. I made a first dive using 9-litre tanks and a wet suit. Before the incursion, because of large doses of coffee and orange juice at the breakfast, I felt very strong and moved quickly into the successive meanders with a heavy kit bag until I got blocked. I tried to move, heard a crack and felt a pain at my ribs. Very likely, I just broke one of them or tore something between two ribs. But we were in the cave, and a short reflexion before the arrival of my friends led me to the conclusion that the incursion had to continue. So I said nothing, continued with my kit bag and made the dive with my damaged ribs. It was only when returning that I allowed myself to let the pain fully develop. It quickly became unbearable, and the 2 or 3 last hours of the 16 we spent underground had been the most painful.

We arrived at the lodge in the early dawn and took our dinner when other people took their breakfast. We shocked a team of old people who were to start a ramble because we were drinking beer, cooking and eating hot dishes while they were eating breakfast! We had left the 9-litre tanks in the cave. They still contained enough air for another dive.

During two weeks, before laughing or coughing, I was obliged to ask someone to encircle his/her arms around my waist. When I was alone, I was obliged to settle against a wall. Before or after this dive—I don’t remember very well—the sump rose because of rainy weather. A large part of the material we had let about 30 metres above the sump was damaged. Especially, a survival blanket we had let for dressing purposes as a kind of tarpaulin was totally torn and gave the scene a very chaotic and sad aspect. This scene brings back to the previous chapter: because of the mud, this scene looked like a trench after shelling.

I have clearer remembrances of the second dive when I used more serious materials: a dry suit, two 10-litre tanks filled with 250 bars air and a 6-litre tank full of pure oxygen. Denis, who is fond of new technologies and really able to understand them, lent me his diving computer, which was able to record the whole dive. The sump has an oblique profile, and when I started the dive, the water was very clear. I was able to look at some possible lateral passages but found nothing interesting. During the slow descent I made, the water remained clear enough until the mud rose because of my fins, and my bubbles arrived at the level where I was. So when I reached what I believed to be the lowest part of this oblique sump, the visibility vanished. Through the dim water, I saw blocks suggesting a breakdown. In the darkness, using the guideline as a kind of compass (it was the radius of the closed circular path I made), I looked for a continuation. I looked for a horizontal passage between the blocks but found nothing. It doesn’t mean that there is no passage; it only means that at the time of the dive I found no passage. Perhaps in the future a rival will find something. It is worth to notice that this kind of morphology can also be observed at the Source du Pont du Diable (Devil’s Bridge Source). Here, the visibility is good enough to be sure that there is no continuation after the breakdown, which lies in the bottom of a deep-flooded pit at about -80 metres.

After finding nothing, I slowly ascended the passage. In order to have a good decompression, the ascent speed must be low enough, say less than 10 metres per minute. I made a very careful and long decompression. When you dive far from the entrance of a cave, you have no right to decompression sickness, especially no right to a neurological problem. Even something less serious such as a bend would have further extremely serious consequences. This is also why we had made the effort of carrying an oxygen tank.

During the dive, the rest of the crew—my friends—were involved in other tasks such as carrying kit bags for further incursions and waited. I myself waited one time for Denis and many times for other people, and I know very well this: waiting is by far more awful and difficult than diving even if the dive is sometimes difficult or even awful. When you dive, you are in the action: you can always do something. Cold is easier to bear during decompression stops than when you are waiting, when you are out of action. If something goes wrong, you cannot do anything before the diver has come back. In addition to boredom and to this awful psychological aspect, waiting is painful due to heat loss and the development of physical weakness that would be otherwise prevented by action and motion (Picture 11_9).

Many cave divers regard this kind of situation as their superiority over the rest of the crew as well as an opportunity to be pampered. To a certain extent, they enjoy that situation. They enjoy to be helped by other people even for simple tasks such as putting a diving computer around one’s wrist. I have a very different opinion, and I think this kind of situation should remain exceptional. It should be avoided each time it is possible. For instance, sometimes it can be possible to carry the material and prepare the dive during a course. The diver can dive alone the day after or the weekend after, and that is exactly what we made for another dive in another sump in this cave.

But let us come back to the moment I finished the last decompression stop and emerged. The passage above the sump is like the sump. The only difference is that it is not flooded except during important rains. So it was steep and muddy. With the two tanks in my back, during a moment, I was unable to move. Denis, who was smaller than I but brawnier, descended to where I was, put his back against my back and pushed me in the proper direction. I removed the material and undressed in a small space, where mud was threatening everywhere. We were all tired, and we left the heaviest parts of the material, ascending only with light kit bags. Some fragments of my diary can give an undertone of the feelings I had during this incursion:

Clearly, this is a teamwork. Diving would be impossible without Denis’s help for screwing the regulators on the tanks and preparing other items. It would be impossible if Denis and Benjamin were not here to transport the material near the water. It would be impossible without the others, those who have prepared tea for the team, those who have transported several kit bags through the cave. During the dive, they have equipped the pit leading to the Siphons du Fond (in a non-literal translation: Far End Sumps), and they have transported four-litre tanks here. It saves up a lot of effort; doing alone such a task would be impossible. A dream is transformed into reality. Dreams are very important regarding caving, and it is a seven consciousness’ dream. I feel indebted to the others. Certainly, other divers would certainly perform a calculation to precise how many times such a team is usable before being obliged to look for other people. Wondering and reaching one’s own limits are probably the most important components of satisfaction. A deeper analysis could lead to a kind of calculation, I mean a kind of disregard that has no place in friendship.

After dressing in the dry suit, I felt more at ease and warmer than with a caving suit. I wore side-mounted 10-litre tanks; this allowed a better descent in the mud slope before the sump. Then I entered into the water, recovered the 6-litre oxygen tank and started. At -6 metres, the visibility was poor, and hands have been more useful than eyes to put the oxygen tank on the guideline. A carabiner was lacking, and electric wire was welcome to replace it. Electric wire is to cave diving what Dyneema is to vertical caving. It allows to solve many problems. I descended with the guideline in the hand and ‘read’ the walls I already saw once. The visibility was sometimes good and sometimes bad. I used a lamp fixed on my left hand in order to have a better lighting of the walls. I arrived to my terminus, tied the new reel to the ancient guideline and continued the descent. The slope was increasing, and I saw vertical flutes on the walls. This kind of mark suggests this part of the cave has not always been flooded. I hoped and feared to find a large passage, something analogous to the main sewer of a city. Hope because it meant continuation and première to do. Fear because in such a large passage, with upstream and downstream parts, coming from the top and with a dash of narcosis, getting lost is possible. But the descent stopped at -50 metres on a breakdown. The particles floating in the water were still. They indicated no stream. I tied the guideline on an anchor and began to search. In the first direction, it was narrow and stopped; and in the reverse direction, it stopped too. I tried other directions but found nothing. Today’s terminus.

I had already realised that few minutes dawdling in the bottom of a cave can be very problematic. It leads to heat lost and prevents right thoughts and therefore can later induce a delay of several hours.

Maud, Denis, Benjamin and I went out of the cave at about 4am. The night was still there even if the sky turned to a deep ultramarine blue. The moon shone over the pine trees. In order to wait for our comrades without being chilled, we sat in my car, which was in the nice meadow by the cave. We started up the motor to warm us: when one is very tired, thermal regulation does not work properly.

With Benjamin, we laid in the boot after having removed our caving suits and our harnesses. The blanket was full of dog hairs and stank dog but was very welcome. During the dive, the device I used to wee underwater had failed. I was wet not only because of sweat or underground water, and I stank too. Many angular objects disturbed my back. Benjamin cried many times, ‘Gipsies!’ in order to express his point of view.

Jean-Luc, Pascale and Christophe went out of the cave later. Denis and I had woken up and had dressed in our caving suits and harnesses again because we were anxious, but they were very brave. They were late just because they had a lower knowledge of the cave than us. Each of us has spent between 17 and 21 hours underground.

In the field of caving, one must avoid lust for anybody or anything. One must avoid idol worship regarding people who are well-known or who have interesting skills such as speed or expertise. Caving is out of any norm, and nothing can supersede personal experience.

After this incursion, I made a journey alone in the cave in order to carry the tanks across the meander. I brought back them outside. It would have been not very interesting to invite other people to do that, and in addition, some of them lacked of time. This task appeared slow but quite easy or at least painless. The best analogy is the one with the virtual memory of a computer: you cannot carry out all the kit bags containing the tanks at the same time. A computer writes or reads on the hard disk some parts of program when they are too large for RAM. You have to do the same thing: carry one tank, put it, go back and carry another tank until the cluster of tanks is totally displaced. After that, you have to repeat the operations until you reach the exit. In the pits, the vertical parts of the cave, I allowed myself a quicker method: I tied the cluster to one extremity of a rope and, using a pulley or two carabiners, balanced it with my weight. I was not heavy enough, so I had to develop additional efforts with my hands, but it worked very well. This is, in a simpler version, the method used for cave rescue.

During May 2005, we went into the cave with Christophe, a friend who had started caving few years ago but was already a very good caver. Our goal was to improve the equipment of the last pit, which, in the remotest part of the cave, allowed us to drop down between the two remotest sumps of the cave. During the same incursion, I used the nine-litre tanks, which were still in the cave, in order to dive a flooded part of a passage where we had to verify if a sump started. In order to gain time, we performed the tasks in parallel, and I dived alone while he made something else. Dressing in this cave is always uneasy because the omnipresent mud and the sloping soil. The best solution we had found was to use bin bags. Before entering into your diving suit, they can be used as a kind of carpet or large socks once you have removed your boots. Storing some small items in a bin bag avoids losing them in the mud. A large bin bag can be used to wrap the diving suit before packaging it in a kit bag and transporting it through the cave. When it is unpacked, it prevents mud to enter into the zip or the suit itself. This day, I found no humanly penetrable underwater continuation to that very muddy flooded area. In such a situation, I am always split into two distinct thoughts. First, perhaps a more consequent experience, a more developed instinct, may allow to foresee that there is nothing interesting. It may avoid losing time and material resources. Second, knowing that there is nothing is a new information. This is precisely the dive that provided us with this new information. We have named this place La Baignoire (the Bathtub).

The day after the dive, Nathalie joined us in the lodge, and we made no caving. Christophe and I were slightly tired. Together with Nathalie, we made a long rambling near the valley of the River Loue. For someone who is sensible enough, poetry emerged from the landscape. Among the green grass of the meadows were a lot of daisies and buttercups. The leaves of the trees had still their soft green colour. They become darker under summer’s sun shafts. After that, they turn yellow during autumn. This kind of green colour belongs only to spring. I have kept fragments of my diary:

I was inside what seemed to be a joint without continuation. It drops down below the entrance and with the same direction, but if the ceiling also drops down and at the depth of -8 metres, it becomes too narrow. The visibility was almost null, and the temperature was quite cold (only eight degrees Celsius), so I did not insist. With my hands, I just guessed pebbles. This could mean that this sump is impenetrable only for man. Perhaps sometimes there is stream, strong enough to sort pebbles and clay.

A possible definition of engaged situation is the following. It is when a minimal speed is necessary, when one cannot act at a slow or null speed. It is in good accordance with the situations that can be encountered during cave diving (because of the limited amount of gas), climbing (because of the pain of some stances), pits with water (because of the cold and progressive drowning with the mist) or assistance on someone who has a problem on a rope. As it is impossible to slow the action in order to learn or even to have deep thoughts, all that is to do must have been perfectly learnt.

We made two last dives in the remote sumps of the cave, which we called Siphons du Fond (Pictures 11.10 & 11.11) in our survey. I prefer Far End Sumps than the literal translation Sumps of the Bottom. According to pre-existing data, we planned a dive in shallow sumps, which means no or very little decompression and less air consumption.

One finds the Siphons du Fond after dropping down an oblique and muddy pit. Again, it is oblique and muddy because this part of the cave is still active and hence frequently flooded. When water retires, it lets clay deposits even on the ceiling. Many pits have never been flooded and form by dissolution of the rock by water droplets falling into. This explains their vertical shape, larger in the bottom than in the top. But here, the pit has probably formed in flooded conditions and has the shape of an oblique irregular tube.

Dropping down is less easy than in a vertical pit. If you are not alone, there is a risk to take down a big loaf of mud and to wound a comrade below. During dry season, the acoustic surroundings contrast with the visual ones. When following the passage that leads to the pit, one hears the low sound of a brook. This sound increases step by step and suggests strongly a landscape of forest or mountain. Where is Heidi, this cartoon character? Once the bottom of the pit is reached, one finds the brook coming from an upstream sump and flowing into a downstream sump. Both had been explored by the Spéléo Club de Dijon. We transported here two four-litre tanks and two nine-litre tanks and also a helmet and a pair of fins. Between two visits, all that had to be fastened. Otherwise, in case of rise, the downstream sump would have engulfed the material because of the force of the stream. This is a tough environment, and during the summer, a rise has swallowed a neoprene wet suit I had prepared the day before in order to dive the day after. I believe that this rise was artificial. It was due to the draining of ponds located several kilometres away, the Étangs du Leubot.

During a weekend with a good weather, with Denis and Christophe, we went to the Siphons du Fond to perform the dive of the downstream sump. Meanwhile, other friends were performing other tasks in other parts of the cave. We had decided that during the dive, Denis and Christophe would make a proper survey of the passage between both sumps. Dressing was easier than for the Grand Siphon and La Baignoire. Mud was still present, but standing upright on a horizontal surface was possible. So I dressed and started with the nine litres and a big reel. After I made a short descent and in a shallow horizontal part, as I was to emerge, a regulator got frozen. As a consequence, the air of the left tank flowed freely, and the corresponding pressure quickly decreased. Was it the end of that very expensive dive? I succeeded to turn off the valve and to stop the free flow. Instantaneously, I decided to emerge and continue the exploration. Anyway, I had to return with a failure, and taking time to explore the dry passage in which I arrived was not an additional problem. So I left the tanks without forgetting to turn off the second valve. I went on only with my reel, which was useful to know the distance. I explored this passage up to its end and made the survey when coming back. Even still now, I regret not having a camera and not bringing back some pictures. I regard them as important as the survey itself. In such a situation, the quality of the survey is not the best. I agree with a majority of cavers that on the BCRA (British Cave Research Association) scale, which has five usual grades from 1 to 5, it can be at best of third grade. Fifth grade needs having enough time and comfort to do very precise measurements and to perform as many loops as possible. Here, there are no loops. It is impossible to measure the directions with a precision lesser than a dozen of grades, and the distances are measured with a precision of about 10%.

During the second dive I was obliged to do in order to come back, no further failure occurred, and I emerged with ‘a lot’ of air. Once again, the sight I had over my two friends confirmed that waiting is more painful than diving. They were chilled and not in the right mood for the dry survey that was planned, so we went back without it. This was by far not a problem. Our incursion was rich enough.

Before this collective exploration, some months ago, I had dived the upstream sump alone. This was neither an egoistic endeavour nor a betrayal of my friends but the contrary. Waiting for someone who dives with small four-litre tanks is the worst because they contain less air, and if the diver does not come back quickly, you do not know if he has encountered a fatal problem of if he has found a wonderful non-flooded passage after a short sump. This upstream sump was quite simple. It was shallow, and after some dozen of metres, I emerged in an area where water flowed from an impenetrable scree. Explorations in the Gouffre du Paradis will remain forever in my mind as a complex and successful collective exploration. Even if some parts have been done alone, the whole exploration would have been impossible alone.

Explorations to the Igue de Planagrèze (Planagrèze’s Shaft)

I have already mentioned this cave where I had made some attempts as a beginner. With Denis and other people, we went back in order to do more serious things. We have published the survey we made in the French review Spelunca. One more again, I prefer report a patchwork of significant details rather than a whole chronologic and certainly dull story.

We made a first incursion with Denis, his first wife Maud, and my brother-in-law Richard. Even if she did not descend with us, Nathalie was also here. She was at the time my bride. We were not yet married mainly because of legal and economic reasons. I remember that Denis dived the first sump alone. Maud and I were waiting for him. As aforementioned, when you are not in the action, you are a prey for fear and cold. Due to the fact Denis has a wide chest, his buoyancy was important. He had been obliged, in addition to the ballast we had carried, to use stones and broken concretions we had found.

Pulling up the material has been uneasy because we were late and night had fallen. Richard had not a very fine ascending technique, and sometimes he stopped and took some rest on the rope. This is not a suitable fashion of doing things, for it prevents the other colleagues to start the ascent. In addition with other things, this led Denis to ask questions such as ‘Who is this guy?’ I have never regarded this as an offence. Denis’s critiques are always given with interesting pieces of advice and understandable explanations. We were interested in diving in this cave because the available survey at that time was quite imprecise and mysterious. Improving it, and perhaps discovering something new, was a valuable goal.

Later, we came back with people belonging to Denis’s club. We were a numerous team, and so a part of us dived in the Igue de l’Aussure (Aussure’s Shaft) and another part in Planagrèze. The Igue de l’Aussure is a kind of helical shaft with many fractionations. It ends on a water level. Jean-Luc, a new and very inventive member of Denis’s club, had done a kind of rigid metallic portaledge. This allowed the diver to prepare the dive, even dress or undress, at the level of water. He and Denis dived but found nothing very interesting, especially continuation. This absolutely does not mean that their dive was useless or had a lower value: Before diving, we had no information and anything was potentially possible. Thereafter, they carried back information. (‘It has no continuation.’) The information allowed us to focus on other targets. This would otherwise have been impossible.

During that time, I dived Planagrèze’s sumps. The second sump is not close to the first one, and between both sumps, one finds a kind of underground brook with many potholes. With more than two tanks, it is impossible to avoid many trips in the brook, which costs time and tiredness.

We have encountered rivals in Planagrèze. One time, Jean-Luc and other friends met a team more numerous but had perhaps not all our technically knowledgeable. They used very thick ropes, and even an electric engine, in order to haul material in the pits. They looked like technical divers rather than cavers. As I will explain below, I have made the survey and some metres of première before them; however, they have published their results as if we didn’t exist. Looking at their survey, I cannot prevent myself to ask, ‘With what guideline did you make your survey?’

Later, together with Denis, we dived the first two sumps of Planagrèze. This is one of the scarce occasions in my life where I have not been alone after passing underground waters. Denis’s goal was to make the survey of a lateral dry gallery and to look for a possible artificial climbing. My goal was to dive the third sump as far as possible. This has been a dream: the water was clear and warm, and I could fully concentrate myself on the flooded gallery and its details. Since that time, I have dived other sumps with clear and warm water, sumps that are shallow at their beginning and have become deeper after several hundreds of metres. Perhaps they mix in a kind of unique ideal dream? However, here, the dream was not only contained in the surroundings. It was also contained in the characters: we were two skilful complementary people without any rivalry regarding the cave. We were beyond two sumps and happy to be there. We had made the inward dives together, and we made also together the outward dives. I regard our exploration project at Planagrèze as unfinished, for we have still the artificial climbing to do. Age flows, but I hope we will find some time to come back and to do the incursion.

Regarding the third sump of Planagreze, I made alone a part of the job. Once again, this was the most hazardous and the least interesting for other people. It is interesting to describe because it led to being in a cave with people who were not friends. It was during the spring 2008. We had transported two 12-litre tanks of trimix and a tank of oxygen nitrogen gas mix (Surox). Trimix is a gas mix that contains helium and allows to dive deeper than with air. Helium renders the mix lighter and easier to breathe and evacuates carbonic gas. It allows also to lower the oxygen and nitrogen rates and to maintain acceptable values even with an increased pressure. The tanks were waiting for their diver near the sump. I have recorded the incursion in my diary:

I came to the third sump with two 4-litre oxygen tanks, two back-mounted 12-litre tanks, one full or air and the other full of surox, and five regulators… . I was obliged to undo my back-mounted tanks in order to replace the air tanks by trimix tanks. I had to start with several stage tanks, which will be jettisoned and taken back along the dive. First of all, I got back the two 12-litre trimix tanks left here since February, and I gathered them. After that, I fixed my regulators on them. After, I prepared two stage tanks, with regulators and foam floats. Eventually, I prepared two other small oxygen stage tanks. So when I started, I carried two back-mounted tanks, each containing a gas mix at 17% of oxygen and 33% of helium; a 12-litre stage tank containing a gas mix at 40% of oxygen; a 9-litre stage tank containing a gas mix with 65% oxygen; and two small stage tanks filled with pure oxygen. One of these small tanks had no regulator, but regarding safety, that was enough. In case of problem at the farthest point of the dive, if one of my back tanks failed, I had the other to come back. Closer from the entrance, I had more gas to breathe, and in case of a problem, in a so-clear and warm water, it was easy to permute regulators. I had an additional gasket on a carabiner because in case of permutation, the main risk is to lose the gasket. In the past, during the spring 2002, I really have been obliged to make such a permutation, and I have learnt things in a practical fashion. A part of the gallery has a keyhole shape. It would be interesting to know how nowadays it is flooded by more than 20 metres of water.

I reached my terminus of the last time. After that, I found a new guideline that had labels with distance indications but without sense indications. Those labels were made with an ugly electrician yellow adhesive tape. I reached its terminus a short time after, and I continued with my own guideline. The ceiling was lower and lower, and I found pebbles on the bottom. I succeeded to fetch this new terminus! Very probably, this would have been impossible with larger 18-litre tanks and dressed like a Christmas tree just like tek divers! It was wiser to go back. I made the survey, of course. When I changed my regulators, one of them suddenly failed: less air and more water than air. Immediately, two ideas arise in my mind: On the one hand, the material is redundant because this kind of failure is possible, so all right! On the other hand, if the other regulator fails too, I will be in great trouble. But I continued to go back and to do the survey. What else? A first attempt to repair the regulator didn’t succeed. I succeeded to repair it only during my third attempt, after having recovered the last stage tank. ‘Repairing’ means unscrewing a kind of lid and cleaning the pebbles and other debris, which can be found inside. I finned along the gallery with longer and longer decompression stops. I was chilled. During the deepest part of the dive, I had inflated my suit with a gas mix containing helium, and this induced important thermal loss, but this was no longer source of the trouble. I was in a shallower place, and I inflated my suit with another gas mix. The problem was just that the dive was long. In addition, the device that allows me to wee outside the suit had failed. Water had slowly come from outside to bathe my feet and legs. During the last decompression stop, at -6 metres, I was so cold that I cried in the regulator. But I tried to keep a slow breathing pace. That has been an interesting exercise! In other surroundings, the temptation to shorten the decompression stop and to finish breathing oxygen in a dry place under the sun’s shafts and with a hot drink would be great. And it would be only slightly unsafe. But here, this would be the worst thing to do: I was alone underground with two sumps to dive, many pits to ascend and material to transport. Even the lightest decompression problem had to be avoided.

Once out of the third sump, and thanks to the good quality of the decompression, I began to work, I mean transporting some tanks near the second sump, disassembling and reassembling pieces of material. A chocolate bar and a carton of grape juice have been welcome. It is astonishing that the carton, designed to contain liquid during a long time, had not very well resisted to the water outside. I would have been very happy to return all the tanks outside the cave, but reality is not always a dream. I was obliged to left the two trimix tanks. With the help of stream, the dive through the second sump with all the remaining material was quick. Between the first and the second sump, the stream was also a valuable help. Some items were floating on the water, and I just had to watch them. I was more tired but less chilled. Hot food, bed, beer and other sweet things were closer. Eventually, I found myself out of the first sump, and I removed the diving suit, which was dry only because of its name. I dressed the caving suit, harness and other items. Then I decided to ascend out of the cave with some kit bags: the most expensive and the lightest. So I transported two bags, one containing the diving suit and the other containing flashlights, regulators and other light items. What remained could sleep quietly into the cave. I just called Nathalie, a short message to say, ‘All is OK. I am well, and the incursion has ended.’ My close friend Denis was in trouble because of non-caving problems, and I wished to let him quiet out of the remote task of watching the incursion. Then I went back to the lodge, ate, drank and slept. I spent nine hours and half underground. This was a solo incursion with several pits, several dives including a deep one with trimix. Each of the parameters is by itself not important, but the whole set made by a single man is quite uncommon. Few are capable to do such a thing.

Even if I didn’t succeed to meet the fairy of caves and sumps, it had been a wonderful incursion! Nevertheless, the day after has been less personal. I had a lot of materials to remove from the cave, and when I came back to the entrance of the shaft, I met other people who were there in order to do, I presume, sportive caving or spelunking. They ignored good manners. I was doing exploration. My rope was already here, but they regarded me as a pain.

They seemed having no deep knowledge regarding caving. When criticising, one must never forget that ‘ontogenesis can be a summary of phylogenesis’. Doing mistakes, or lacking of the finest knowledge, is a normal state of development. Every caver has started as a non-caver, has made mistakes in order to learn. But regarding those people, I was shocked by the absence of any willing to improve oneself. They were devoid of ability to observe what other people do and to integrate or reproduce the interesting things. They seemed even devoid of the capacity to ask questions. It seemed that they were happy to be in their steady state, that they had enough, that they did not want any more. The leaders of such people very frequently allow themselves to criticise without asking any constructive question. Half-drag is probably a good word. They are people intelligent enough to dominate their fellows but not too much intelligent. They have reached their whole limits. Very often, this kind of people appear as technical referees but conceal a true deep mediocrity.

Anyway, dealing with such a group of persons has been very interesting from the point of view of human interactions. Here, ‘interaction’ has the same meaning than the ‘fundamental interactions’ of the theoretical physics’ realm. A group is something very different from each individual who belongs to it. It seems that a new collective character emerges, such a character being lower, more stupid and less benevolent than each particular character. It becomes a herd of animals that has narrow limits (the intersections of all its members’ limits). Such a herd doesn’t understand the difference between truth on one hand and beliefs and false statements shared by a majority on the other hand.

On my side, meeting such people in the cave was hazardous, more hazardous than being alone. Their ropes, not always in the right place, were present and could entangle with mines. They could also modify or ‘rectify’ my equipment when I was below. As suggested above, they regarded their equipment as the right one and mine as the ‘wrong’ one. When they spoke, this was not a discussion, just compulsory ‘advice’. Knowing that any of them had made the engaged things I had already made a number of times helped me to cope with the situation. It was less easy to avoid to despise them, but this would have been a loss of time and mental resources.

I arrived near the first sump alone because I was faster than the group above. I noticed that yesterday I have lost my big reel. This is sad, but having lost a regulator or torn the caving suit would have been worst. I tied all the material to the rope. It was ready to be hauled. I installed a first counterweight and tried to haul the weight. It didn’t work very well because of rubbing and because the cluster was heavy! I was obliged to drop down again and to ‘help’ the cluster ascend, mainly using pure force. Meanwhile, the other cavers were arriving.

I installed a second counterweight, something tricky with deviations in order to prevent rubbing. At the same time, the other cavers jettisoned their thick rope on me, and even if I succeeded to avoid entanglement, it has been particularly difficult to stay calm. When I asked them why they did not keep their rope in a kit bag, they answered, ‘In order to see if it was long enough!’ Anyway, my counterweight worked well, and that was all what mattered. I proposed to those unwelcome an exchange. I left my rope to allow them the access to the underground brook (this was their aim—they didn’t want to go deeper), and they brought it back outside the cave. At least, this allowed things to go forward and to solve a kind of ‘traffic jam’ in a narrow place.

Hauling the weight, removing deviations, reaching fractionations and doing things again—eventually, this was quite a physical activity, but things were going well. I had the deep feeling of well-done things. I even took time to discuss with some people just below the entrance pit. Those people as a group were very unpleasant, but they can be pleasant as separate individuals. I have understood further that there was not only one group but three separate groups! It explains why the situation was so confusing with so many ropes.

Before being outside the cave, I encountered many other difficulties with those people and with their ropes. They were unable to do some elementary tasks I asked them in order to save up their time and mine. One of their ‘leaders’ has been afraid by the tanks who rang out in the deep pit. So I have been obliged to do all the things by myself and simultaneously to deal with their equipment. Once outside the cave, they efficiently helped me. They hauled very bravely tanks and kit bags out of the entrance pit and also carried them back to my car. In order to thank them, regardless of the ‘good manners’ I would have expected, I offered them what I had: bottles of alcohol-free beer.

During this day, I have even heard the following remark, ‘If you continue like that, you will not have a long life.’ It is difficult to bear such remarks, especially when people are unaware of what you did in the sumps before they arrived. Surrendering to other people’s argumentation would alleviate from all their unwelcome remarks. However, the fact they are a majority doesn’t imply they have the right to decide what is good for you.

Explorations to the Gouffre de la Forêt de Génieux (Génieux Forest Shaft)

This cave has been discovered and explored to its actual bottom at the beginning of the seventies. The survey showed that the deepest parts of the cave ended on sumps. Perhaps diving would lead the discovery of new parts of that huge cave, which is already one of the deepest of Chartreuse’s massif? It was also a challenge for some friends, who were more interested by hiking, mountain, nature and dry caving in deep pits than by pure cave diving and crawling in the clay.

In addition, it was a personal challenge for two other reasons. I had started my life of explorer in the Chartreuse’s massif and let it for other areas and other explorations. I wanted to come back to my origins. The Grotte de la Passerelle I mentioned in another chapter is the presumed outlet of the water flowing in the Gouffre de la Forêt de Génieux. Even if unlikely and dreamlike, a junction would have been a great thing.

I started the re-exploration and the re-equipment (Picture 11.12 & 11.13) of this cave during 2006, alone as usual. The use of a riddle to carry several kits bags in addition to the personal material quickly appeared as the less painful solution. It was not always possible to reach the cave and to work inside. The road to the Col de la Charmette (Charmette’s Pass) had to be free from snow, and the weather had to be dry enough. The cave is in a natural park, and camping is forbidden. Nevertheless, I used to make bivouacs outside the cave, near my car and in meadows or beneath the forest (Picture 11.14). A brook provided freshwater that had just to be boiled before use. A tent was necessary. Even during a dry season, there is the night dew and sometimes a fine drizzle.

When the exploration had become deep enough to be interesting for other people, I told some friends this project, and we decided to spend a week to go the deepest possible in the cave. Things were planned for the summer 2007, during August. We have never fully reached our goal, and two years after, during 2009, I have removed the equipment from the cave and decided to abandon or at least postpone for several years this project. However, analysing things is especially interesting in order to tease out what was wrong. In addition, this leads to a reflection of what is success or failure. I could perfectly understand another point of view, but I am very reluctant to regard this project as a whole failure, having the meaning of a waste. I have wasted no friend. Even if we didn’t reach our goal, we have brought back many original results or pictures.

I have also gained a deeper knowledge of myself. The first factor of failure is a personal one. During the spring 2007, I had encountered troubles at my job and simultaneously at the exam of monitor of caving (those problems are described in other chapters). It is easy to recover from only one problem or to forget it, but when you encounter many problems at the same time, which impact several facets of your life, you can become really weakened. This kind of weakness is neither physical nor intellectual. It is primarily a moral and organisational weakness even if sometimes further physical and intellectual consequences arise. The best to understand is to imagine a puzzle that has been shattered. Sometimes the pieces or remaining blocks of pieces cannot easily reassemble or temporarily reassemble in a wrong fashion. I have been shattered many other times, and I have developed more efficient fashions to withstand. But at that time, I started with the following weakness: doing something interesting in Génieux was the only positive aim I still had. I wanted to explore this cave. Perhaps some people need to concentrate on a sole aim in order to save themselves or to properly manage a project. But I think that when you have several aims, things are always easier because a kind of balance is possible. I have learnt that in such critical situation, diversifying your aims is vital, but at that time I did not know (and of course had never been taught at school).

The second factor of failure is a material and more exactly logistical one. When you are alone, doing a bivouac is the most logical thing because it saves up time and pain and because you are closer to the cave. But it was not a possibility fully acceptable by the team. They preferred a lodge with the possibility of a shower each evening, with the possibility of sleeping in a bed and other conveniences. Such a wish is perfectly understandable. This is exactly what we had made for previous incursions in other caves, Planagrèze for instance. I have fully realised later that there was only a slight difference. The surroundings were different. We had tasks of different kinds to perform, and the time scale was not the same. Even if a choice issued from a personal and intuitive experience is not easy to understand, I feel guilty because I have not been able to explain that to the others. The only lodge I succeeded to find was more than 20 kilometres far from the cave. In addition, it was available only six days during the whole week we had decided to spend there. We had implicitly decided to improvise for the problematic Wednesday. So regarding things with strategy’s eyes, I would say that we had the obligation to take a difficult position without having a proper logistical support or a detailed plan. This was also a mistake regarding implicit communication.

I had planned things to arrive at the lodge one day before the rest of the team. I needed one day alone in the cave in order to prepare things and to prepare myself. It is impossible to give a very clear explanation, but with other people, things must be perfect. Anyway, a misunderstanding has led to the fact that the first day, I was not alone. I have been obliged to lead a fellow caver in the cave. Even if it was very innocent, I had a feeling of very problematic frustration. The day after, another frustration has been to be obliged to repair a cordless rotating hammer, which did not work properly. It was an old material found by Denis. My own material had recently failed after having being borrowed by pupils in a training session, and I was angry because of that problem.

Before and during the camp, I have accumulated frustrations over a wide scale, from insignificant things to important things. I had bought tea and beer in prevision of my first day alone, and later someone else had used these goods without asking. This is was not very serious. More serious: my computer had failed. I had been obliged to learn and install Linux on an older computer. Before that failure, I used Windows because I did not know that something else could be done. I had done the maximum. During the moments of rest, it was not very pleasant to hear people criticising ‘the limited autonomy of those PCs’. I knew very well the problem, but I had no money to buy a Macintosh. Except regarding the surveys to do, informatics was not linked with the planned exploration, but this has been a huge frustration. Nobody has realised that I was deeply studying computer science in parallel with the exploration. More precisely, two of my comrades were engineers or specialists in informatics, but it has been impossible to discuss with them about operating systems and other interesting things. The most serious frustration is also indirectly linked to informatics. I was reading a book about UNIX operating systems before sleeping, and when I fell asleep, I let the book and my glasses on the ground. On the next morning, when I woke up, I found the glasses were destroyed. Someone had walked and crushed them during the night. I cannot properly see without glasses, and I had not enough money to buy new glasses. So I had been obliged to repair with a flawed result. I should probably feel guilty for not having protected these glasses in a box, but it was less difficult to feel guilty of falling asleep.

The beginning of the collective re-exploration has been a quite good teamwork. After the first day, we had split our team into several sub-teams. One sub-team had to make a new survey of a part of the cave. Two other sub-teams had to improve the equipment in two different places inside the cave. As in the Gouffre du Paradis, we installed rungs in the tough parts of some meanders, and we also improved the existing bolts and other anchors. Bolts of the brand ‘spit’ are the most commonly used, and very often, they are found in a too-low position. Comfort is the most important word to understand why spits can be found at a wrong level. Sometimes these anchors have been installed by people who had not enough ability to place them at the right place without discomfort. It can also happen that people did not realise that placing the anchors here leads to a loss of comfort. In addition to spits, it is interesting just to bore the bedrock with a drill bit of diameter eight millimetres or ten millimetres. This kind of ‘artificial natural anchor’ allows to use of single-strand Dyneema at the beginning of a guideline or to tie directly the rope to the rock. I must confess that, with a retaliating spirit against some stubborn institutions and people, we avoided carefully to bore larger holes that had allowed to use slings or even any cord in double strand! From a technical point of view, slings are of common use in the milieu of caving but should be avoided for several reasons. First, they are more difficult to tie and to undo. They afford less possibilities to adjust the length. Second, they are not ‘light materials’ because of their volume once packed. One cannot make a clover hitch in the middle of a sling in order to install here a carabiner.

The weather was rainy, and the day after, we decided a break. Some of us wandered in the forest; others ‘explored’ an ancient factory located on one bank of the Guiers Vif. I joined them after a successful attempt to dive the Source de la Passerelle. We found nothing very interesting inside this ancient factory, but it was a satisfaction to trespass. We trespassed also an ancient monastery.

The following days, in addition to the aforementioned logistical problems, the weather was still rainy. This is what has oriented the fate of our project. At a depth of about -250 metres, after a slightly ascending meander, one arrived on the top of a series of pits. They led to a depth of about -400 metres and to the beginning of the interesting part of the cave. I write ‘interesting’, for it is difficult to reach and has very probably been reached only by few people. With other friends, Denis was improving the equipment above, and I started to equip this series of pits. Because of the rain outside, they were themselves rainy although it was bearable. Their walls were not sheer white rock. Some places were full of mud, and one had to be very careful when choosing natural anchors. Some of them were not reliable. I succeeded to equip the pits without electric tools. I had just a hammer and used the less-possible spits and pitons. I was totally wet, but it was the price to pay. I was waiting for the others and expected they would arrive as quick as possible to continue the equipment and the re-exploration.

Underground, it is difficult to communicate using the voice because of the reverberation. However, I understood they didn’t wish to continue because of the risk of more water in the pits and because the water wasn’t good for the electric tools we had. I subscribed to this collective decision, which was wise and perfectly understandable. However, it meant that I had taken some risks for nothing, so I have been very disappointed. We went out of the cave and managed to find a shelter. The lodge was unavailable for one night and one day. Eventually, we found a cellar inside which we were protected from rain, and we ate what we had. I remember sharing a tin of smoked herrings and some pear jam; thereafter, we slept in our sleeping bags directly on the concrete soil without mattress.

The day after, I have removed a part of the equipment in the cave. I was alone, and it was a kind of ‘farewell’ to collective projects. I felt a longing to embrace the forest and the cave, yet the contrary happened. I went back two or three times inside the cave, and I succeeded alone to equip it up to the depth of -450 metres. I made a survey (Pictures 11.15 & 11.16) and took photographs (Pictures 11.17 to 11.20). The end of the cave was too difficult for me. I didn’t succeed to understand it. So I stopped the project and removed the equipment from the cave.

Picture 11.1: It is less easy to cancel or modify collective endeavours. We had planned some engaged caving but the weather was too much rainy. We have only been able to visit some classical places. Here Denis and Jean-Luc, who are skilful cavers, are admiring the cascade of the Source du Lison.

Picture 11.2: In the deep parts of the Gouffre du Paradis (“Heaven’s Shaft”), mud is omnipresent and renders things more complicated, in addition to its negative moral effects.

Picture 11.3: Denis is installing some rungs in a meander. They act according to the principle of a jack and of the “Big Bros” used by climbers. Such a material allows a safer progression along the meander.

Picture 11.4: Denis is working in a narrow and exposed part of a meander. The efforts he is doing will save up more intense efforts later.

Picture 11.5: Denis just before dropping down the first pit of the Gouffre du Paradis.

Picture 11.6: Christophe uses a hammer in order to install bolts in a pit that is far from entrance. This is real caving, not teaching with an instructor.

Picture 11.7: Christophe prepares some material. This is real caving too.

Picture 11.8: This is real caving, with water flooding in some pits. The equipment and he progression tolerate no mistake and there is no instructor to explain how to do.

Picture 11.9: Denis just after he and the rest of the team have waited form me during a dive in the Grand Siphon. Mist, mud and cold add to the fact of waiting.

Picture 11.10: The gallery just above the Siphons du Fond. Its shape shows clearly that it formed under the water table.

Picture 11.11: Siphons du Fond. The underground brook between the upstream sump and the downstream sump. When on arrives, the noise isn’t very different from the one of mountain brooks: where is this cartoon character named Heidi ?

Picture 11.12: The entrance of the Gouffre de la Foret de Génieux.

Picture 11.13: Since its entrance, this cave needs a vertical equipment. We used a lot of dyneema in single strand.

Picture 11.14: Bivouac before going (without car) to the Gouffre de la Foret de Genieux.

Picture 11.15: Comparison of the pre-existing survey (an excerpt of “Chartreuse Souterraine” from Baudoin Lismonde edited by the CDS38) and the survey we made. The deeper parts are the more divergent. Tiredness and other difficulties can explain this.

Picture 11.16: Comparison of the pre-existing elevation (an excerpt of “Chartreuse Souterraine” from Baudoin Lismonde edited by the CDS38) and the elevation we made. I made the deepest part alone and measuring the heights of the pits has been uneasy; despite of the problems of precisions I used my altimeter because I was alone and it was the quickest method.

Picture 11.17: This inscription dates from the early explorations.

Picture 11.18: Another relic of the past.

Picture 11.19: At about -400 metres, a meander formed before it was split into two moieties by tectonics.

Picture 11.20: Snow outside of the Gouffre de la Foret de Génieux, during springtime, just after the last incursion.

BAD MOMENTS

In addition to the most intense moment of the re-exploration of the Gouffre de la Forêt de Génieux, I have had several other bad moments in my life. Generally speaking, I owe those bad moments to my differences. Even if I always do of my best in order to satisfy the expectations of other people, there is always a lot of misunderstandings. Being a stranger in a more or less permanent fashion generates a lot of difficulties, appearing very clumsy because one is troubled isn’t the main problem. Regarding some projects in which I was involved or some people I have to deal with, the only possibility has been to split up: it was impossible to communicate. Not all the bad moments are sorrowful afterwards. It is worth to describe some of those them. Those who also illustrate some trends of the society inside which we are immersed. There is a link with the notion of survey I brushed in chapter 4, for you can only see things afterwards.

1992–1997

As a student or when you practise scuba diving, you are mainly looking for diplomas. In addition to fuel the system, they are the milestones that allow to go farther. But during my doctorate, in 1992, I was already looking for something else. This is why I began dive under ice. I was not particularly looking for this activity, and I met it by chance. I just selected it because it seemed more interesting than other possibilities. During the winter, I was skiing in a massif of the French Alps named Queyras, near the city of Briançon. Very simply, I saw a poster with some information, and I contacted the club. Of course, as in many scuba diving clubs, it was quite expensive. I subscribed for a week of five dives. It was full of novelties regarding many aspects (Pictures 12.1 to 12.6). One had to use skis to reach a lake 2,500 metres above sea level. It was named was Lac Sainte-Anne. The preparation for the dive and the dive itself were very dependent upon the surroundings. For instance, the dive was possible only at precise moments during the day, when there was enough sun. In case of too-bad meteorological conditions, the dive had to be cancelled or postponed. A hole had been bored into the frozen surface of the lake. Each night, a new layer of ice formed, and we had to break it before diving. With the splints and slabs, we made strange ephemeral sculptures. We used tissue dry suits and very thick underclothes. Only hands and face were not protected by this kind of suit. We wore thick neoprene gloves for our hands and, of course, a mask for our face. As tanks, we used twin 12-litre tanks. Those tanks (Picture 12.7) were back carried and were independent regarding gas. On the contrary of many tek diving tanks, each of them had only one single valve.

I wrote we, for, after few dives, I had been asked by the team if I wanted to join them. Of course, I accepted. I still regarded me as a trainee because I was not perfect. It was a kind lifelong learning, different by many aspects from the exams I had to pass. From the point of view of motor skills, diving with tissue dry suits is something difficult. Such a suit is unstable, for it contains a lot of air. With proper underclothes, it is very efficient for thermal insulation, but you have to balance permanently. If the suit contains too much air, you are lifted, the volume increases and the lifting force increases. The contrary occurs when the suit contains less air than needed for a neutral buoyancy. Even if the perfect buoyancy is reached, one must be careful to one’s body position. In some positions, particularly the horizontal one, too much air can displace towards the legs. In such situation, an important torque (a tendency to rotate) appears. Then there is a strong trend to have one’s head below, one’s legs above, and to lose any control. A controlled ascent or descent with such a suit is also complex and interesting. Of course, we wore buoyancy compensators for safety. If such a suit had a leak, it would lack almost its buoyancy. One would quickly reach the bottom of the lake without any possibility to go up to the surface!

We used a guideline in order to be sure to retrieve the entrance hole. However, surroundings were not the same than inside sumps, so the guideline was different. It was a thick mountain rope, connected with carabiners to ice screws or rods stuck into the thick ice. Of course, it was impossible to break the ice and to find free air in case of problem; it was too thick. So a guideline was really compulsory. In addition to be used for orientation purposes, this guideline could be used for buoyancy and balance purposes. During such moments, strong efforts are exerted, and a guideline like those used in sumps couldn’t bear them. Several vertical ropes with a ballast allowed to reach the bottom of the lake, some 20 metres below the ice. It was flat, very muddy, but not like the clay one can found in some sumps. It was a wither rock flour generated by the former glacier responsible for the formation of the lake. We had made some examinations and found some living small organisms, such as worms. The ice, more than one-metre thick, had the special blue transparency that can be seen only when diving or when descending crevices inside glaciers. Even covered by snow, it allowed enough light to enter, and we did not need any kind of artificial lighting. The sounds were more faded than in sumps or in sea. Diving in such silent twilights is one of the most beautiful things I can remember. Our main activity was to initiate scuba divers to the activity. The level was very low, and I’m still very astonished that even ‘monitors’ were unable to learn quickly and properly how to use the material and to understand the surroundings. In addition, some of them were unable to ski! More precisely, we afforded two kinds of diving. We proposed to beginners an underwater tour where they have just to profit from the aesthetics, and we proposed a true learning to more advanced people. Sometimes it happened that the true learning turned to the simple assisted tour. This tour was the most interesting for the instructor, for it was very close from rescue operations or underwater work. As instructor, you have to manage your dry suit, the client’s one, and to be careful to orientation and air consumption. If something goes wrong—for example, if the client is unable to breathe at ease with the regulators—you have to bring back him/her to the entrance hole and to the free surface.

The leader of the club and another member were commercial divers. They had deeper knowledge regarding the practice of diving than all the instructors of scuba diving I had never met. It was interesting to listen to them. Sometimes I still regret not having chosen this professional activity despite the fact it is in strong regression. One of these commercial divers had told me that he had participated to dives under ice in polar regions in order to produce a film. He had told me that he had got lost inside an iceberg and that he had found the exit only by chance at the last moment. Of course, I had been very impressed. He knew also very well a former companion and boss of the famous cave diver Bertrand Léger. I once met this man who still worked as commercial diver and boss of a company. He was regarded as an expert diver. This was also very impressive.

Because of this kind of activity, we did not manage air consumption in the same fashion than during cave diving. We used special regulators, mostly the Supra Arctic of the brand Spirotechnique. This regulator was filled with glycerine, which prevented freezing in very cold water. It was not very easy to dismount or even to understand. Despite the fact it was more reliable than other materials, sometimes failures occurred, and I can remember a dive during which both regulators froze and failed. By chance, I was looking at the sediments in the bottom of the lake, not far from the entrance hole! Since, I have learnt how to pinch the hose or close the valve in order to stop this failure. Anyway, few optimisations took place because we hadn’t to go the farthest possible and at the same time to keep enough safety margins. The only optimisation was the one of doing the greatest possible number of dives before being obliged to fill again the tanks. We had a kind of cabin. It was a metallic hut carried by mechanical means at the beginning of the season, near Christmas or New Year. It was brought back down in the valley at the end of April. This allowed us to store the material, including a compressor in order to fill the tanks. In order to protect our steel cabin against the effects of wind, we had to dig the snow, to build a small wall and to firmly tether the roof. Sometimes it was necessary to bring back tanks in the valley: I have learnt how to ski with two heavy tanks on the back. Once, during such an operation, I have been the witness of an amazing incident. Two people had come in order to make underwater photography. One of them was a well-known cave diver, and the other was a professional photographer. Despite their reputation, they were not at ease with skis, and they fell during the descent. So their bags opened, letting flow a whole collection of photographic material on the white snow. I must confess I found that hilariously funny.

I was accommodated in the Refuge de la Cime (Cime’s Hut). The manager was a guide named Michel Blanchard. Since 1998, we have met less frequently, but he has a huge place in my mind and my heart. He has a huge experience, not only of mountain but also of life. He was also ski instructor and has made many difficult things in the field of mountaineering. He has encountered many times situations of danger. He was one of the few men I knew who had really been close to death and had become wise. His fashion to tell his stories was also very wise and deep. Dinners and other moments of life in his hut were very warm. There were always very interesting people from many horizons. All that has sunk in the past: with today’s safety and sanitary rules, with the current evolution of society, such a place could not afford people the same kind of atmosphere.

As member of the town council, Michel disagreed that diving under ice was allowed in the Lac Sainte Anne. As a man of mountain, sailing and other outdoor activities, he saw diving under ice as something too closed, not really a sport or perhaps just a motor sport. Perhaps he regarded that as a kind of perversion. I must confess that later I have sometimes thought the same thing than him: mountaineering is by far more interesting. Each time I hike with mountain skis, when I try to use the relief to change the direction of my track without conversion, I think of him. He is one of the characters deeply embedded in my character and who supported me in bad times.

We had had a discussion about women:

- I am with Nathalie, and I think she will be the last woman in my life.

- I had had a wife too. We had had our daughter, but we had split up. You know, Pierre, we are loners.

I’m still with Nathalie, and we are still happy as wife and husband. Nevertheless, he was profoundly right. We were loners. Due to our jobs and many other constraints, Nathalie and I were together only few days or even hours per week. We were no sure that we could again live permanently together.

Michel is now semi-retired, and he partly lives with a girlfriend. He has learnt by himself pottery and has become a great potter. Our last discussion was about colours and correlated degree of oxidation of cooper. It is a very difficult problem in the field of pottery. I feel by far more at ease with him than with chemical engineers and other production managers because such kinds of people have perhaps graduated from prestigious schools, but they aren’t so wise. They aren’t so autonomous. If another comparison were necessary, Michel knew very well Pierre Gilles de Gennes, a famous French physicist awarded by the Nobel Prize.

I have used the word client above, and this is one of the reasons why I leaved this club five years later. I have never been paid for that activity. All the money earned by the club was devoted to rent the cabin and other materials and also, I presume, to pay another member of the team who was unemployed. With the equivalent of almost 60 euros per dive, it was extremely difficult to defend the position of non-paid. The association was not very well managed, and I began to have problems when I asked questions in order to improve that. Perhaps there were some secrets I had to ignore? This hasn’t been the main reason to split up. I also no longer wanted to pay by myself all ski lifts and other fees. As a non-paid, I wanted to do other things, more personal and more engaged than simple initiation dives.

The possibility to reach under ice the springs who fed the lake, several hundred metres far away from the hole, had been discussed many times. The possibility to come back to the lake during the summer in order to dive it in another environment had also been discussed many times. I have been very disappointed when I realised all that was only speech, not real action. When you want really to do something, just plan it and just do it! I painfully obtained to perform some tests of rebreather. At that time, such a material was not easily available for civilians or for non-professionals, and I was already trying to build my own prototypes. Once developed and improved by a teamwork, it would have been a very good tool for shallow dives under ice over a long distance. The probability of freezing is lower than the one of classical material. But the others were not very interested. They were more interested by all that could be published in common newspapers, for instance the coming of an actor for a tour under ice.

It had been very difficult to explain my expectations to the rest of the team. I was not very communicative, and they had even believed that I was sick. But they refused to understand. Especially, they didn’t understand that I was interested by another reward than money. They believed or pretended to believe that doing initiation could be a reward. I still regard a large amount of that kind of teaching as slavery and pure boredom. Long-distance incursions or other non-public engaged dives would have been my reward, and I had not got them! So I have ceased to frequent the association and its members since 1998. Resigning has been very difficult, and I have thought to stop definitively any kind of diving. Several years later, I have read in a newspaper that an accident had happened and that the club was closed. I have come back to the lake with mountain skis, and I have seen that there was no longer any hole, cabin or anything related to dive. There was just a flat ice surface covered by immaculate snow.

Things have not been made, hopes and expectations have been betrayed, and I have wasted a lot of time. This is why despite the numerous difficult or deep things I have learnt, despite the huge beauty and the deep aesthetic of things, I remember diving under ice as a bad moment. This isn’t only a question of killing someone’s dreams. It is foremost that, when you are different from other people, you cannot expect they will progress at the same pace. You cannot expect they have the same motivations or the same aims. Common evolutions and common aims exist mainly inside the mass. When you are out of the mass or when you want to go out of the mass, you must accept the differences and anticipate their consequences. I hadn’t fully anticipated.

1993–1995

The keyword modern age appears in previous chapters. Explicitly, as in the essay from Hannah Arendt entitled ‘Tradition and the Modern Age’, it means an epoch where things, ideas and persons have no longer any intrinsic value. All is networked, and the value is the result of exchanges. ‘Relationship’ is compulsory. Even if we are since a long time in a world that globally is this modern age, tradition crumbles in a progressive fashion. In other words, one can always find situations or places where tradition remains but is to disappear. This is very analogous to the thawing of snow in mountain. When the days become longer and longer, when the sun shafts heat the ground, the white coat crumbles. It disappears piece by piece. One can still find some snow but only in places that become smaller and smaller. They also become scarcer and scarcer. In some occasions, I have been in such places, on the brink. I have not only been a witness but also an actor, and at least two times, I have fallen.

After my doctorate, I have been a teacher in a great college in the northeast of France during the year 1993–1994. Perhaps because the progress of the European construction, some regulations were in quick evolution. Behind those regulations, without having at that time the keyword modern age in mind, I forbade changes into the French society itself. For instance, an evolution in the rules regarding civil liability can induce changes in everyday life, even in politeness or in the content and spirit of teaching. The content has progressively become less important, and the form has taken an increasing importance. I was preparing myself to an exam to become first-grade monitor (Brevet d’État d’Éducateur Sportif Premier Degré) of scuba diving. I had the strange feeling to be in a very unstable situation, like riding on the crest of a wave before being flooded by the billow. I felt very well that I had to obtain the exams that interested me before it was too late. This is the reason why since this epoch up to 2004, I have always hurried to prepare and pass the exams. Regarding this facet of world, I have already written that I am a very conservative man. I am at right wing because I think the content is the most important and must always prevail over the form. Being permanently in hurry when you are young, when you have still a lot of things to learn, is something awful. You have by far not finished to build yourself, and you are obliged to do things as you were older. In order to obtain diploma, I had also to present a first aid certificate. Obtaining this one has been the most difficult, for it was centred on form. It was very far from the reality of diving problems, so I had a very bad moment.

After this year as a teacher, I made my National Service in the west of France, in Brittany (Picture 12.8 & 12.9). We were in a very regulatory atmosphere, and it was difficult to make interesting things. In a paradoxical fashion, sport was not very well regarded. It was not easy to do some running or to go to the swimming pool. Nevertheless, I decided to prepare the exam of second-grade monitor (Monitorat Fédéral Second Degré) of scuba diving. Because some comrades were preparing other exams and needed authorisations to go out, I succeeded to obtain the same authorisation. When the meteorological conditions and the waves were good, I swam many kilometres along the shore (Pictures 12.10 to 12.13). I remember having gone out even in the presence of important waves (Picture 12.13). The most dangerous moment was just when entering into the water because there was a risk to be projected on the rocks. Despite the risk, these moments within the ocean remain marvellous. In my mind, because I opened a letter when facing the ocean, I cannot dissociate them from contemporary bad moments.

During the beginning of the summer 1994, when passing the exam of first-grade monitor, I had met a girl. She had let me seduce her, and we had begun a relationship. It was not easy to be together, not only because she was working near Paris and I was in the west of France. The problem was also that, except the naval base, I had no other place to live than in my parents’ house. She had split up with another boyfriend some months before, and she had no other place than a small flat near her parents’ flat. So our relationship was very influenced by our respective families. More than only influence, I had the feeling it was also a question of conformity, judgement and future expectations. She was issued from commercial prep classes and had already worked abroad. My parents were more than satisfied with her social rank. They were also surely impressed and disturbed. They had perhaps a feeling of inferiority. My father had been pupil in a school of boiler making after what he had become electro-technician. Later, by lifelong learning, he had become engineer. My mother had been bookkeeper in chief up to my birth. The parents of my girlfriend were of a higher rank. Her mother was a doctor, and her father was an engineer and director of a public utility. I was a graduate from a first-rank school, but as a teacher, I have probably never been regarded as a reliable man. In addition, I was three years younger than Isabelle. Therefore, our relationship was obviously not in accordance with standard expectations. After ten months, she split up.

I have been very affected. Splitting up is very often the culmination of many elements, which accumulate up to a threshold. Some of them are very private and not fully conscious. As autumn leaves, they are rather sweet than bitter. They definitively belong to the world of shadow and oblivion where nothing is painful. Some other elements cannot be forgotten, for they are totally outside the realm of love. They just pervaded and perverted it as oil can mar a beach. Not seducing someone or not being seduced by someone because of his/her social rank is perfectly acceptable, especially when it appears on people’s face or look or in their speech and ideas. This is a right to choose who you want. Taking into account the social rank afterwards is different. This is where career and private life mix and shouldn’t mix. In other words, whatever I was inside, I was not the proper person for a sustained relationship because of my family and because of my studies.

My first mood has been sadness, and I carefully tried not to propagate this sadness around myself. I tried to keep normal relationships with other people. It was quite uneasy, but I succeeded.

Several months later, my reflection had been fed by this event, and I have changed my outlook on love and life. Some people had perhaps tried to ‘improve’ their social position or prove their worth by looking for another girl of high social rank, but I moved to a different direction. I lost any belief in a firm correlation between social rank and personal worth. As long as the analogy with someone who had religious beliefs and has changed or lost them is obvious, I became a dissent.

I met Nathalie only later, and at that time, my close family was only my parents. It would be easier to enumerate what your parents have not done for you than to reckon what they have given to you. Despite the fact my father was perhaps too severe, I owe him many intellectual and practical skills. In addition to the access to interesting scientific books, he has taken time to explain me how to use tools in a safe fashion. Other fathers would probably have forbidden playing with tools. The older you are, the least easy it is to acquire manual skills, and I would probably be definitively awkward with tools and unable to build my rebreathers. My mother was perhaps not enough severe, but I owe her during my early childhood to have been immersed in a very rich material environment. I have a dim remembrance of many ramblings, many colours, many shapes. My parents lived at 30 kilometres from Paris. At that time, it was countryside and I had many contacts with nature. This was a merry part of childhood. Growing out of a large city has been a great fortune. Very probably, I wouldn’t be the same if I were born in the centre of Paris, Lyon or Marseilles. I have realised that existing in a world where nature and matter are less important than the money I can earn or my wife’s social rank is a permanent bad moment. Having met and lost Isabelle was just the tip of the iceberg. My current feelings about social relationships are quite well described by this poem:

I’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us, you know.

How dreary to be somebody!
How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!

— Emily Dickinson

1995–2008

From August 1995 to January 2008, I have been teacher of physics in second year of prep class in a college in Paris region. During this period, I have finished my surf on the wave I described above. After that, I have been flooded. At job, it was very difficult to socialise. I did not agree with social evolutions where form prevailed on content, whereas a majority of colleagues had the opposite opinion. I have been progressively pushed out of the way because of that. I had a very different personal life (is it an offence against some French regulation?) and also because I was faster than them to do the same task (they were jealous).

The turning point has occurred when expectations regarding pupils have become also more centred on form than content. Even if it would be very easy for someone else to perform less work, to wrap it with a better fashion, I have never been very able to do such things. I belong to an ancient and primeval world where it is normal for students to be present, where it is normal for them to learn their lessons and to do their homework, as I have done mine when I was student in prep classes. At the beginning of 2008, my students have organised a strike. They probably have been helped by some of my ‘colleagues’ of prep classes, and they succeeded to produce something very credible. Inside a college, such a strike is illegal; nevertheless, I have been obliged to move to another position in another smaller city with a reduced salary. Among my ancient colleagues of the college, only one is still a friend. It is easier to forget the other than to forgive them. Sylvain was a teacher not in prep classes, and I regard him as a very close friend. (During 2005, we went to Libya for one week; and despite the evolution of this country, I have still a thin hope we could make another journey there. This is why I don’t tell our journey.) He has been obliged to find another position too. For those who were teachers in prep classes, Nathalie didn’t exist. One of them has even written about myself: ‘He lives alone, and when he has a problem, he has nobody to speak with!’ Despite their position or their social rank, it is very difficult to regard such people as very brilliant. They were naïve and idealistic, and they probably have never read Le Prétendu Humanisme Moderne (The So-called Modern Humanism) from the well-known anthropologist Claude Lévi-Strauss.

I have met my future wife Nathalie during the end of the spring 1996. She was neither of first social rank nor a top model, but we have begun a relationship, which still continued 18 years after. This is because we feel at ease together. Another less-obvious reason closely regards social rank. We are two characters out of normality, I mean social normality. Being outsiders rendered us close to each other. This has probably strengthened our relationship too.

During the thirteen years spent in that college near Paris, I have also encountered very bad moments in my caving life. The two have probably interacted and accelerated my fall. I was initiator of cave diving and wanted to become monitor. As a conservative man, I have always regretted the crumbling of teaching into many grades. Therefore, I saw more the initiator as a transient and probationary state than a permanent one. At that time, in order to become a monitor, one had to produce a paper file that indicated what we have done in the field of cave diving and caving. One had also to be examined from a practical point of view by other monitors during training sessions. Among the criteria, one had to have performed long-distance dives, at least thousand metres from the entrance. One had to have performed deep dives and to have used gas mixes. A minimal number of dives in a minimal number of sumps was required. I do not remember precisely how many, but it was of the order of 50 or 100. Participation to federal boarding or commissions was also taken in account.

The year 2003 was a time of conflict because the French Federation of Speleology and the federation in charge of diving disagreed about the convention that allowed, among other things, the same diplomas to be valid inside both federations. I became doomed when I organised an initiation training during the spring 2003. A she-monitor from another region participated in order to evaluate me. Nothing has been said during the session or shortly after, for instance during debriefing. But she phoned me more than one month after the session to explain me that I was dangerous:

- You are dangerous because you let the trainees dive without protection on the valves. If you or the trainees cannot bring proper tanks, you must know that the national commission can lend such a material.

- Yes, but according to the rules, an initiation training is a preventive action. If you lend proper tanks to the trainees, they will come back home without those tanks. Once alone, they will use their own tanks. They will be very probably devoid of protection and not well assembled. At least, if they use their own tanks during the session, we can be sure that they will be properly assembled. We let them come back with a kind of model.

Obviously, we had not the same level of thought. I have also participated to a national training session during August 2003. As a non-monitor, I was not allowed to lead dives deeper than 30 metres. I remember very well a shallow sump with a narrow entrance where my pupil has panicked beyond the narrow. I succeeded to help her to pass back the narrow part and to go out despite her panic. I had all my background of diving under ice to help me, and I am not sure that someone else, even authorised to the deepest dives, would have been able to take care of her. I encountered another problem when I was charged to teach something like ‘dangers of the surroundings’. I had prepared a genuine document, with some written parts and some parts where the pupils had to make notes by themselves (an active learning is always better). Of course, I had submitted this document to the rest of the staff before my lesson. Again, afterwards, I was reproached for not using ‘standard documents’ and other ‘already-existing documents from the commission’. Several weeks later, I received a letter that explained that I was not accepted as a monitor.

This letter recapitulated several things that had nothing to do with level and skills and were more related with politics. It dealt also with a certain kind of ‘deontology, which, more than ten years later, I have still not understood. It is worth to unveil a part of this letter, for it is characteristic of this epoch and of the aforementioned wave that flooded me.

Firstly, I was reproached an attempt to publish a technical article (about the use of guideline) in a review. But other articles had already been published in many reviews, and this review has published many other articles about cave diving. If something was wrong about the content of this article, what was it?

Secondly, one explained me that teaching inside the cave diving commission was based upon a common friendship and upon the share of common ideas. What is the need for a federation if friendship is enough and if everybody shares the same ideas? The word deontology was written but without any further development. What was wrong in my behaviour? What would have been the future negative consequences for trainees?

Thirdly, I was reproached to be publicly interested in gas mixes and rebreathers. One had asked me to postpone a training session I wanted to organise. There already existed books and articles about gas mixes, and training sessions had already been organised. Why stop? Moreover, I have been treated in an unfair fashion. During the training session, with the large approbation of the rest of the team, one of the other initiators had brought the rebreather he developed and showed it. It was a large apparatus, with many blinking LEDs. Regarding pedagogy and prevention, why was it more interesting than a gas mix training session?

Fourthly, of course, one explained me that I was not monitor, this was not a punishment and this was a call to further investment. I had already taught. I had already organised training sessions. Wasn’t it an investment? What other kinds of investments were expected?

Fifthly, there was an invitation to participate to a meeting about teaching; and one explained me again that I had to be invested, neutral, open and, again, respectful of deontology. I have always been less interested in meetings than in real work. That was too much. I have firmly and immediately decided to stop any investment and to resign. I have been very disappointed. I had wasted a lot of time. In addition, doing huge efforts to socialise with those people had been very tiresome. This is why it has been a very bad moment.

I think I have made a mistake, but it has nothing to do with the required technical and pedagogical level to become a monitor. I did my best to defend some values I had learnt when I was a beginner. I defended values regarded as very important for safety and high-level practice. This led me to repeat what elder cavers and cave divers thought or said. But I didn’t repeat what all the elders said. I only repeated what a part of my former teachers said. The wave arrived, and some of these teachers have realised that either they had to change or they would quickly sink. I have perhaps been a foil for their preservation. I have realised later that in our actual world, saying things the majority wants to hear is more important than saying the truth or interesting things.

However, I think that focusing on the information expected by a majority is a positive feedback loop that can be very harmful. At a larger scale than my insignificant cave diving, it has many times proved its dangerousness for mankind. The totalitarianisms of the last century are a shallow caricature of this very perverse and seething mechanism. I believe that it is related to what physicists call phase transitions and more precisely to percolation transitions. Such a theory is too difficult to explain here, and it is out of the range of this book. In a simplest fashion, I am very sorry but the sky remains blue even if the majority says that it is red! I will ever refuse to say that it is red if it isn’t!

The same kind of scenario happened when, after being an initiator of caving, I tried to become a monitor of caving. I have not been accepted for dim reasons. Especially, my speed of equipment has never been criticised. I must also precise that at this epoch, the norm during the exam was to reach a depth of at least 400 metres underground and to equip quickly a lot of pits. Due to huge rains and water flowing underground during the session, nobody has reached more than about 250 metres. However, some candidates have obtained their diploma. What was their worth?

All those failures had shattered me. This is linked with what I encountered at job because of an obvious reason: some people have felt that it was the right moment to organise something to definitively push me out of the way. Once again, it has been dim and gloomy. For instance, when I have sent a bailiff to certain people to ask them precise questions about my so-called failures, I had never got any answer.

I regard all the progress of the wave as an outrage. I have lost almost all my beliefs; only callousness, estrangement and irony can remain after such a hard journey. Nevertheless, I have never ceased to practise cave diving. Those bad moments have strengthened my willingness rather than blown it out. I have become tougher. Those bad moments have also strengthened my relationship with my wife Nathalie. She and cave diving are the two pillars of my terrestrial life.

Picture 12.1: It is quite unusual to pass the shore of a frozen lake during winter and in a mountainous environment in order to practise scuba-diving!

Picture 12.2: The Lac Sainte Anne is below a mountain named Font de Sancte. The lake is supposed to be fed by snow-melt coming from this mountain.

Picture 12.3: Starting for a dive under the ice with twin 12 litres tanks and a dry suit!

Picture 12.4: Different kind of people have come here. Some of them were very motivated, the greatest number were beginners and all that was mass practise despite the technical facet.

Picture 12.5: Submitted to intense cold, the surface of the hole starts freezing again even during the dive.

Picture 12.6: The sun shafts draw my shade twenty meters below, on the white silty bottom of the lake.

Picture 12.7: The material we used. One more again, these heavy items, mainly formed of iron, strongly contrast with the wild nature all around.

Picture 12.8: Sunset in the western part of French Brittany.

Picture 12.9: A bridge over a “ria” in Brittany. Such a ria has he same geomorphology than a Norwegian fjord; it has formed during the glacial era, when the sea level was lower. Thereafter the valley has been flooded by water.

Picture 12.10: A beach of Brittany. It is quieter than the beaches in the south of France, and I enjoyed to swim several kilometres with my long fins…

Picture 12.11: Even with small waves, it can be problematic to enter into the water; things become easier when you are far from the beach, in deeper water.

Picture 12.12: There is a risk to be projected on the rocks…

Picture 12.13: …and sometimes swimming is impossible, this is an outdoor activity subjected to the weather.

Picture 12.14: My parents. With their own culture, they always tried to do the best for their son.

EXPLORATION NEVER STOPS

Teaching was the common element of my professional life and of my life in caves and sumps. It is impossible to have been shattered as a teacher in both places at the same time without changing. Anyway, I had to change because teaching had changed too. It was no longer devoted to the transmission of the deepest knowledge at the highest possible level.

Regarding my job, my first reaction has been to cease teaching and to do my best to find another occupation. I have quickly discovered that it was particularly difficult. I had already tried several times, and it was just the confirmation of what I had observed. The difficulty was directly linked with the profile of the ordinary teacher I wasn’t. Even with a proper CV or despite it, a potential employer doesn’t clearly realise who you are and what you could afford him. You have to cope with all the prejudices corresponding to the majority of teachers. They are very well-known by your potential employer either directly (he has gone to school when he was young) or indirectly (he has children who are still going at school). In addition to that prejudices, it is always hard to reinvent oneself. The large and deep background you have isn’t important regarding more immediate shallow skills that are expected. For instance, it is a big problem if you don’t already know a certain software or a certain precise fashion of doing things even if with more time you could master the algorithms that are beyond or even invent better algorithms! Being too much skilled regarding informatics is a problem by itself. You are a source of trouble for the ‘specialist’ who is in charge of the network and the computers. Eventually, there is a third other problem. In Europe, since 2008, we are in times of crisis, but we are still living inside a system where appearance is more important than efficiency. Due to my character, I’m on the opposite. Exaggerating things, I could write that the crisis isn’t important enough to create situations and opportunities where my skills could be useful. I cannot take the position of people who are less efficient regarding a genuine productive work if they are more able to conform to shallower expectations. I’m more skilled to save my life inside sumps than to choose the colour of a folder!

The college where I arrived in 2008 is probably regarded as a kind of punishment by some of those who managed to send me there. However, I have found very brilliant headmasters and assistant headmistresses. Despite my irreversible lack of belief, it is a great happiness to work with them to solve problems regarding the survival of our two prep classes. They need solutions that don’t already exist. I spend a lot of time with them and other persons to do things that are closer to engineering than pedagogy. All that is purely professional, and my main aim is to earn money. However, to a certain extent, this is also a kind of family. One of the characters who is now retired could be the father, another (now commissioned abroad) the elder sister. I’m sure I play the character of the tougher and younger son. I have also found some colleagues who can be true friends. In other words, working with these people with whom I share common points is easy and natural; it is a deep release. I don’t know very well how our efforts are regarded by the whole hierarchy above us, but we are doing a productive work of public utility, and that’s what matters. From a social point of view, it would be by far less easy to kill me now than during 2008. I have still problems with certain teachers (the same who didn’t understand the teen I have been and even don’t realise he exists), but that doesn’t longer matter. Eventually, I regard the loss of a part of my salary as attrition but withstanding has become one of my skills; what matters is to do rather than to have or to be.

My reaction regarding non-paid teaching has been very different. I have never regarded teaching as an aim by itself. It is just a way to do something else or to reach something else (for instance less accidents or more exploration). The teaching of caving and cave diving was mainly done by people who weren’t professional teachers. Perhaps for them, it was a kind of compensation of what they were unable to do in their professional life. I wasn’t looking for such a thing. My sole aim was to give back what I had got when I was a beginner. I just was interested in avoiding accidents as well as mass practice. I must recognise afterwards that massification can lead to a decrease in the rate of very serious accidents, for fewer people are engaged in difficult caves or sumps. But this doesn’t correspond to my way of thinking. Therefore, as explained since the first chapter, I have ceased any kind of teaching. The only things I regret are some training sessions that were (if led by the proper person) a space open for exchange. It was an opportunity to meet people I hadn’t met otherwise, and it was also an opportunity to challenge oneself. Neither pedagogy nor the status of instructor was sacred as it was in other places. Having done explorations and having experienced real difficulties was regarded as more important than being able to apply rules. More or less static rules fit perfectly with only 95% of caves or situations. However, they don’t fit with the remaining 5% one can encounter during exploration or in case of real big problems. A very simple example was already told in chapter 12. A ‘common rule’ of cave diving says that you must have protection over your tank’s valves. It is compulsory to protect the valves. But in the very cold water of some sumps, after a long dive, you will never succeed in opening or closing the valve with such a protection and your thick gloves over your awkward hands. All that no longer interests me. Regarding the practice, in sumps as well as in dry caves, I have decided that I would do what I wanted, regardless of the milieu’s expectations, norms and habits. I have put in practice what I described in chapter 8. It takes a long time for such a behaviour, such ideas, to rise the highest levels of consciousness. I wrote about my outlook and exposed what I called a coming out only in an article published during 2013.

Because of the stalemate evoked in chapter 9 and because I wanted to avoid having only one aim as explained in chapter 11, I have reinvented myself as a test pilot. The meaning of this word is that I decided to test (Pictures to) and learn by myself all what I needed for the explorations I dreamt to realise. It includes the serious development of a rebreather (Pictures 13.1 to 13.5). It is interesting to give some additional explanations about this apparatus. Its principle is to recycle the gas you breathe in order to make savings regarding the number of tanks or the quantity of gas you have to carry with you in the sump. For me as well as for other people, it is more or less mythological an object because of the following reasons. Firstly, a perfect material would allow a single (wo)man to dive very long sumps, to do very long dives, with a very reduced load. It would be a revolution regarding the ancient techniques. Secondly, a perfect material adapted to sumps is very difficult to conceive and to build. In addition, it is very expensive, so it is a kind of ideal, which isn’t fully reachable. Thirdly, such a material has been used for a long time by military divers, zoologists and other categories of professional specialists but with very different aims and constraints. Very often, there is an unconscious mix-up of the corresponding images with the real aims of cave diving, so when you dive with a rebreather, you become more or less one of these characters.

I’m not out of this schema, for I succeeded to build my first rebreather during 1993 before being a cave diver. This material was fed by pure oxygen and didn’t allow a depth greater than six metres. In addition, it had a limited autonomy of perhaps 40 minutes in the best situation. It was carried on the belly and wasn’t very handsome. The worst was the mouthpiece (the piece by which you breathe with your mouth and which is connected to the rest of the material). It was something too simple that couldn’t be closed if necessary. If you let it escape from your mouth, the material was flooded! But it worked, and it has been something very important for self-confidence. I have used it during many shallow dives along the banks of some lakes where I was able to observe fishes hidden among algae and reeds. I was perfectly stealth, and with a camera, I would certainly have done beautiful photographs (but at that time, I didn’t have enough money to buy a camera!). A short time after having started cave diving, with a more evolved mouthpiece, I have used this rebreather for decompression purposes. However, I have ceased because this material had roughly the same weight than an oxygen tank and was less reliable. Even if it needed more gas, using classical tanks and regulators was safer and handsomer.

Later, I have built other models, and all have encountered some strong limits. When they didn’t barely fail, either they were not reliable enough or they were not handsome enough. Only a very thorough reflection has allowed me to progress. I made notes in a systematic fashion, and foremost, I succeeded to identify and reduce the limiting factors. At the scale of the sole (wo)man, they aren’t exactly the same than at the scale of an industrial process. Firstly, you are limited by what is available and cheap enough. Secondly, when you produce something by yourself (for instance a mouthpiece), you are limited by the precision you can reach, the time it takes and the tools available. Third, as non-paid, you have only a limited number of experiments underwater. The most important remains to plan the tests in order to maximise the exploitation of their results and to avoid useless steps. Gradually and perhaps not without a teardrop, I have shifted my world of rebreathers from mythology to reality. During this progress, I have realised that these apparatuses can afford other advantages than the pure saving of gas. Again, it is worth to give some additional explanations.

Firstly, in sumps the limiting factor isn’t always the amount of gas you can carry. What limits the autonomy of a perfect rebreather is the stuff that absorbs the carbon dioxide generated by the diver (this stuff is the famous ‘soda lime’). For a long dive, you need either a rebreather embedding a lot of soda lime or several rebreathers. This becomes quickly very cumbersome (more cumbersome than tanks, generating a higher drag than tanks?). This is especially true in tight caves or when you cannot use a propeller.

Secondly, you must have a firm answer to the question, ‘What happens if my rebreather fails?’ In case of bare failure, you must have something else to breathe, another rebreather or classical tanks. One arrives again to a cumbersome set. There exists some kind of ‘vicious’ failures that could kill you more surely. The more your rebreather is close to perfection, the more those failures are to take into account. In other words, catastrophes are less frequent but more severe. In such rebreathers, pure oxygen is injected in order to compensate the oxygen consumed by the diver and to maintain the composition of the gas mix at the proper level. Any gas is lost outside, and this balance is made in an automatic fashion, with sensors and electronics. What happens if all that doesn’t work properly? Each cave diver with his/her own material has his/her own solution, but experience and theory show that the most dangerous is to feed separately the rebreather with pure oxygen and another mix containing few or no oxygen. This the most optimal for the oxygen consumed can be replaced without any loss. This is the most dangerous because a failure can expose you to breathe pure oxygen (hyperoxia) very deep or to experience a sever hypoxia; death can be immediate and without clear warning. The use of other mixes that could also be breathed without the rebreather (breathed ‘open circuit’ in the jargon) at the same depth is safer. But it is less optimal, for each time you breathe you lose gas. Regardless of the details, this loss is lesser than in open circuit but non-null. Despite the reduced yield, I prefer this solution, for it eliminates the risk of hyperoxia. Hypoxia comes more progressively, and there even exist some (faint) warnings.

Thirdly, using a rebreather needs a stronger attention than open circuit. In situations where you have complex tasks to perform, all the attention devoted to the apparatus isn’t devoted to the surroundings. This is the case for instance when laying guideline, doing a survey, looking for a continuation or for a guideline or unravelling an entanglement. One must also take into account that certain rebreathers are more inert than open circuit material during depth changes or when your position underwater changes. In a literary fashion, I could write that with a rebreather one is a layer farther beneath the free surface. In other words, classical tanks remain the optimal solution for a wide range of problems. At the present time, if I had two ‘technical rules’, they would be the following:

• Have always open circuit as backup; even if your rebreather works perfectly, you will be very happy in case of complex situations to abandon it during a few times.

• Be sure you can manipulate, remove if necessary, your rebreather. If you bear it on your back and/or if it has the size of a small fridge, if you cannot jettison it easily, then don’t use it.

I regard rebreathers used in sumps more than a prolongation of open-circuit material than a solution opposite to it. I’m always looking for a perfect compatibility. For instance, I try to avoid special regulators, special connectors and special tubes, which would prevent to connect any tank to the rebreather or use any tank in open circuit. Due to the absorption of carbon dioxide by soda lime, heat is generated. I have realised that using a rebreather could save up heat in addition to save gas. During long decompression stops, another advantage adds to the savings: with a proper material, your gas consumption doesn’t depend on your breathing pace. So one has no longer to force oneself to breathe very slowly. When you are chilled and tired, those discrete advantages are a great progress. Things become by far handsomer even if the perfection isn’t yet reached.

The Source Bleue de Cusance and the Source du Lison were the first sumps I visited early in my new life. They have in common the fact that I had participated to rescue training inside several years ago. I wanted to know these caves in a different fashion. Perhaps is it a disability, but my perception of a cave is more acute when I am alone.

I made nothing really interesting in the Source du Lison except healing. I installed a new guideline with arrows and length indications, but at about 400 metres from entrance, I didn’t succeed to find the continuation. The sump is neither shallow nor very deep; moderate decompression stops had to be done. I tried two times to do the decompression with the prototype of rebreather I developed, for in case of a problem, it wasn’t very hazardous. It was far from perfection, but at least it worked, one more again that has been very encouraging. I realised that the transportation of this kind of material is very important, perhaps more important than the gear itself. So I included transportation tests (by man, in car boot, in pits and meanders), a rebreather must succeed before I can regard it as really useful. In other words, if you cannot forget the material, it isn’t fully useful. The only incident I encountered wasn’t due to my rebreather. The Source du Lison and especially a second entrance named Creux Billard cannot be reached by car. One must walk, but it is by far easier than other sumps. I took less precautions with the tanks, and I let fall an oxygen tank in a step before the sump. Fortunately, it didn’t blow up, but the valve got broken. I used the pair of pliers of my ‘emergency kit’ to operate it and, if possible, breathe the oxygen underwater as I had planned. But the valve was too damaged and just let flow the oxygen outside, not in the regulator! Eventually, I dived. I made a shorter dive with less decompression. According to the Inventaire Spéléologique du Doubs (Speleological Inventory of the Doubs), its description is the following:

The Creux Billard 112 metres far from entrance leads to a second exit through a flooded pit 18-metre depth, full of branches and trunks carried by the Lison du Haut.

In a non-flooded of length 16 metres and width 8 metres at 730 metres, a heap of blocks let see water flowing through the breakdown, demonstrating the existence of a permanent flow in addition to the role of main sewer.

A joint 180 metres far from entrance is probably linked to the Grotte de la Petite Lave. The flooded main is gallery sometimes littered with blocks shows shapes of intense erosion and leads an important stream. Muddy particles coming from the erosion of the soils on the plateau above are transported. The morphology of the conduits depends on the fracturation.

On the contrary of the Source du Lison, I did a more complete work in the Source Bleue de Cusance (Picture 13.6). I made some tests of rebreather in surroundings tougher than in the Source du Lison, and I learned many important things. However, the most important of what I made deals with pure exploration. This history had begun a long time ago, during 2003, with a discussion with a fellow caver who had told me, ‘English cavers have come in this cave, and they have found a continuation. There is a very narrow passage just before going out of water.’ I acted in a very methodical fashion and started with a literature review in order to find, if possible, a report of what the English cavers had really found. Once the data read and archived, I started a re-exploration, laid guideline and made some survey. After a small number of dives, I succeeded to locate the narrow passage and to pass it. According to my own feelings, the main problem isn’t the narrowness but the fact that you have to remove your tanks and leave them at the water level. Thanks to the predecessors, I found a piece of rope and was able to hang up my tanks there, but the main hazard remained the tanks (or the fins or the mask or the ballast) sinking eight metres below. It would have been very difficult or impossible to recover them. I started the re-exploration of dry galleries beyond the sump and made some photographs (Pictures 13.7 and 13.8). In parallel, I made a thorough study of the detailed map and of the surface.

In a given place, which coincided with the terminus of the English cavers, the massif was minced by a series of faults (Picture 13.6). In a small valley where the water of a brook named Torrent des Alloz flows, they are obvious. They corresponded to some turns of a road, and broken strata were visible. So I wrote an article explaining that, very likely, there was nothing penetrable by man beyond the English terminus, and I turned remorseless to other caves. In addition to the re-exploration of the cave, I had explored the small and shy field that lay between practical caving (physical penetration of caves) and pure karstology. One could perhaps name it theoretical caving, for very theoretical ideas are developed only about caves penetrable by man. On the contrary of the French karstology, they aren’t developed about all the karstic phenomena regardless of their scale. During an exploration in another cave of the Vercors massif, we were discussing about this subject with some friends. We agreed on the rough conclusion that ‘sexual intercourses are better than masturbation’.

The Source Bleue and the Source du Lison had a second thing in common: doing something in already-explored caves. I had gone in places that were scarcely visited, and I had made interesting things in one of them. A long time ago, a cave diver from Paris had told me, ‘The Doubs is an interesting place because many sumps have been explored but the survey is still to do.’ At that time, I had felt this was said with a certain contempt. I had interpreted it as a kind of classification with première at the top, simple visit at the bottom, and survey in between. With my work at the Source Bleue, I was totally out of a frame remotely outlined by someone else. It is a great happiness. I have also made the survey of the Source du Dessoubre. This cave has nothing very special; however, it has an important place in my remembrances because I realised here that cave diving is hard, filthy and hazardous. It has also a place in my heart because I dreamt here to come back, when possible, with a rebreather in order to dig the final breakdown.

Another remote interaction took place in the Source des Poues. When I remember this cave, I cannot prevent myself to laugh and to think of an advertisement for a famous brand of beverage. In the advertisement, one can see a tall blonde woman and a small Indian girl. A man tries to seduce the woman, and one imagines she will surrender. With the girl as witness, the clip ends on the woman drinking the well-known beverage and saying, ‘What did you expect?’ With Nathalie and his brother Richard, we had dug the entrance of the Source and removed the pebbles that blocked it. I had dived the first sumps and laid a new guideline with a tag indicating my name. I was ready to find the continuation and explore farther. It was just a question of weather. The week before, a person who was a member of the cave diving commission of the FFS (French Federation of Speleology) phoned me. He explained me that he had started the exploration of this cave and that he had found my guideline. He wished we continue the exploration together. Eventually, I made the exploration alone (Picture 13.10). It was the first year of my new position. I was never sure of the day after, and I had no time to lose. In the non-flooded parts of the cave, I sang ‘Tipperary’ for myself:

It’s a long way to Tipperary,

It’s a long way to go.

It’s a long way to Tipperary

To the sweetest girl I know!

Goodbye Piccadilly,

Farewell Leicester Square!

It’s a long, long way to Tipperary

But my heart’s right there.

—Jack Judge and Harry Williams

I was strongly motivated to go the farthest possible. I used electric wire and pieces of rubber cut in tubes as anchors. At the end of the cave, I lacked of them, but I managed to continue, weaving or tying the guideline around blocks. I invented a more secure fashion than simply doing one or two turns around the anchor. It took a lot of time, but I tried to cease to breathe in order to save up my air during the operations. ‘What did you expect?’

I have had a third very remote interaction with a rival in a cave named the Puits de la Brème (Brème’s shafts). This cave belongs to the same hydrological system than the Source de l’Écoutôt and some other caves of the Plateau de Montrond (a karstic plateau near the village of Montrond le Château). It is a flooded shaft with a fluctuating water level (Pictures 13.11 to 13.14). During wet periods, water flows out of the cave, and diving is impossible. The clear blue groundwater mixes with brown surface water. From an aesthetic point of view, it looks like another advertisement, the one of United Colors of Benetton.

In order to dive, one must install a zip line across the shaft. I have made that alone many times, and as reinvented test pilot, I have tested many possibilities and materials (Pictures 13.15 & 13.16). I have always used Dyneema to connect the zip line and the trees that are used as anchors; I have never used the classical charge balancer. In order to enter this cave, the main difficulty is that you have first to dress your diving suit, then dress your harness, then move along the ropes. It is impossible to drop down with the tanks on your back. You have to use one rope for yourself and another rope for the material. Once the water level is reached, you have to equip yourself (in other words, be your own squire) in the water in a proper fashion.

Below the surface, one finds a flooded descending shaft and, after it, a place full of blocks where one has to find one’s way. Then one arrives in a large gallery that is almost horizontal and still. After Jean-Marc Lebel, who was the first to explore the sump, I succeeded to reach a non-flooded room, about 800 metres far from the entrance. I made the survey, but I didn’t succeed to find the second sump J M Lebel has described. The last productive dive took place during winter. It was a good season for the water was frozen outside; however, I remember very long and uncomfortable decompression stops. The temperature of water near the surface was lower than during summer. Outside water, the temperature was worse. Some rocks just at the surface were covered by frost, and it had been particularly difficult and painful to operate along the ropes with or without diving gloves.

Some years after this incursion (the results were already published in an article), I received an email that explained that a certain rival had ‘traversed the sump’ and ‘made the survey’. My own work (Picture 13.17) wasn’t cited. In addition, people were impressed and amazed by all the material this rival had used, including a propeller and a kind of loch devoted to an automatic survey. I tried to be fair and just mentioned that I had already made the re-exploration and the survey. I have not the answer to the following questions: Was he alone? What guideline did he follow? I had made things just with my fins, my brain, my compass and my diving computer. The similitude between both surveys raised a third interesting question: why are both surveys similar except a whole rotation of almost 30 grades? I have not yet finished my work inside the Puits de la Brème, and I will go back there when it will be the proper time. When you don’t exist for other people, it is very difficult for other people to exist in your mind, but it also changes time scales; you are no more in a hurry.

I had made vertical caving because I wanted to be accepted in the milieu of caving and not regarded as a scuba diver. But it wasn’t, by far, the only reason. I really like it, and it is always a pleasure to test some material (Picture 13.18). So I also have continued solo caving in dry vertical caves, for instance the Trou Souffleur of the Plateau d’Albion in the department of the Vaucluse. I made the notes below in my diary:

2 January 2008

I started the equipment of the Trou Souffleur (Breathing Hole) with two kit bags. The largest was full of thick and cumbersome old ropes. I had planned to use them at the beginning. The smallest contained just some anchors and a last rope. I spent six hours underground; I have equipped up to the summit of the last pit before a meander named Méandre de l’Ankou. Even if I have lost some minutes to find my way, the whole incursion has been near perfection… . I equipped this first part of the cave according to the conditions of this solo incursion. On the one hand, nobody has to progress along a rope he hasn’t laid himself. On the other hand, one can spare the rope in places that aren’t too exposed. The duration of this incursion was of the same order than the duration of a deep gas mix dive. I have been very satisfied.

4 January 2008

After finishing to prepare the material, I entered the cave. Outside, there was a gentle drizzle, and I estimated it would change nothing inside. In order to alleviate things, I left carbide, water and food at -200 metres. I progressed in the first wet pits. They were not extremely flooded, and with my hood, all was OK. It took me about one hour and half to reach the Méandre de l’Ankou (Ankou’s Meander), where things turned to be more difficult. I left an empty kit bag here as a kind of flag just to avoid orientation mistakes. The progress was quite uneasy. I was carrying a heavy kit bag, and there were no rungs as in the Gouffre du Paradis! The only handsome thing was that my kit bag was too large to easily fall in the meander. It took a lot of time: in this meander, sections of different shapes need different positions for the caver and different fashions to carry the kit bag. Some places were muddy and slippery. I found other places spoiled by dregs of carbide. After many other difficulties and just before giving up, I was guided by a noise of water and succeeded to find the next pit. Very well! I installed quickly the rope without guideline, for this place was very narrow and there was no risk of fall. Then I dropped down and made fractionation when needed. It was very impressing because one dropped down in an absolutely dry place, but other parts of the pit were flooded. There were a very loud noise and a huge breeze due to the falling water. Once the bottom of the pit reached, the surroundings changed. I stood on the rock with a flow rate of about 200 litres per second around my boots, and the wind was permanently to blow out the flame of the acetylene light. To a certain extent, I was back on the coasts of Brittany but without salt! I tied the rope with the next one, installed a guideline and arrived to the next pit. I continued the guideline above the powerful stream that fell in the darkness. I had to be the farthest possible from the cascade. Even the way outside the waterfall in ordinary times was too exposed. I have been obliged to make deviations using natural anchors. This was very exposed. The anchors were reliable only because I was alone (nobody else to displace the rope in a bad direction) and because I didn’t use lassos with single-strand Dyneema. (This is one of the scarce situations where Dyneema is better in double strand.) Despite the strong engagement, I felt very happy to be there. The satisfaction to have reached alone a deep part of the cave added with aesthetic pleasure. It was Dantean. The waterfall roared. I received packets of spray, and the light bounced on myriads of drops before getting lost in the dark void… . I haven’t been able to reach the bottom of this pit named Puits de l’Astrolabe because the stream and the wind were too powerful. After some minutes of rest, I started to ascend along the ropes and to remove my equipment. The progression in the meander has been difficult again, and I have lost my ratchet wrench. I had not enough space to put it in the kit bag. Once out of the meander, I felt cold and tired. However, I ascended the following pits with my heavy kit bag. They were rainy, and I quickly got totally wet; things turned to be painful. In addition, my foot ascender suddenly broke, and I found myself obliged to finish without it. So I left my kit bag in a place where it was easy to take it the day after, and I tried to go out the cave as quick as possible. In addition to the cold and the tiredness, I wanted to avoid worrying Nathalie. I progressed in the last hundred metres with a certain animality. Once outside the cave, the street light and its shadow appeared as strange and preternatural as the spray and the waterfall far below… . Later, one has told me that the drizzle had become a strong rain. I had been in the cave just at the bad moment.

The last re-exploration I want to mention in this book is the one of the Aven du Tegoul (Tegoul’s shaft). It is located in the department of Ardèche, near the small village of Saint-André de Cruzières. Each of the parameters that could describe this cave is ‘mean’. There is an entrance pit that isn’t too deep and with only one fractionation. One finds several sumps below, which are not too deep, not too long, not too narrow. However, the combination of all these ‘mean’ elements was an interesting problem—not ‘mean’ at all for a loner. A survey already existed, but it was only an elevation, and no plane was available. So it was interesting also from a non-subjective point of view.

In addition to use for the first time my rebreather in real conditions, to transport it in vertical parts of a cave, to pack and unpack it (Picture 13.3) and to make decompression stops; I have performed some tests regarding Dyneema. I needed to equip the entrance pit and transport my diving material (this is heavier than only a man) and bolts as well as natural anchors had to be used. This was the right place to try new things. The question to which I had to answer wasn’t about the safety of Dyneema. A lot of French cavers of the Vercors and other mountainous areas use single-strand Dyneema in order to make fractionation (not only deviations) without known problem at least since the nineties. In addition, my friend Denis Langlois has very well explained how to do safe things in his instructor thesis (he is an engineer with all the required scientific background). My question was whether it was possible or not to extend the use of Dyneema to other less-frequent configurations (Pictures 13.20 & 13.21). More precisely, was it possible to use it in place of a load balancer? Was it possible to use it across the top of a pit in place of a small zip line?

I obtained positive answers, as shown on some photographs. All that has to be reproduced many times (One hundred times? Thousand times?) in order to have statically significant results, as suggested in chapter 10. This is also the case of the experiments carried out by some people who stand that double-strand Dyneema is compulsory. But here, I have got enough to prove that the systematic fear regarding single-strand Dyneema is irrelevant. This is a false belief sustained by certain people, some of them having not a proper scientific background. One more again: the problem isn’t to use something that can bear huge shocks but to avoid shocks (Picture 13.22).

I have kept my true friends (Picture 13.23), but now I avoid systematically people who aren’t able to understand my research or, at least, why I am doing all that.

Picture 13.1: Some elements of a rebreather, before gluing them together. Things are more complicated than they appear, for the size of each element must be calculated according to the specifications and precise plans have to be established.

Picture 13.2: Building the nutshell rebreather.

Picture 13.3: I’m no longer in an experimental phase, rather in the “beta” phase which is the last before using this material “without restrictions.” Here, it is packed inside two kit-bags in order to be tested during decompression stops in the Aven du Tegoul (Ardèche, France).

Picture 13.4: Starting with a rebreather (Source de Marnade, department of Gard, France).

Picture 13.5: A selfie when testing a rebreather!

Picture 13.6: A map showing the development of the Source Bleue de Cusance. Very likely, the part of the cave penetrable by man doesn’t continue farther than what has been explored by the English. Some faults very probably limit the extension of the cave.

Picture 13.7: Inside the Source Bleue. After having left the tanks and the diving material, it is possible to continue. This is a very nice rambling underground and beyond sumps.

Picture 13.8: I made a little bit of première in the Source Bleue, here one is at the end of a secondary gallery and the little kit-bag gives the scale.

Picture 13.9: Survey of the Source du Dessoubre. Doing a precise survey of certain sumps remains an interesting aim despite the fact they have already been “explored.”

Picture 13.10: My survey of the Source des Poues. Obviously, I made mistakes regarding the survey of the last sump.

Picture 13.11: Descending from the zip line into the Puits de la Brême.

Picture 13.12: The Puits de la Brême can rise when it rains. It can happen in wintertime…

Picture 13.13: …or in summertime.

Picture 13.14: Diving here is always very poetic. Here the surface reflects the sky and the trees. In order to understand the photograph, one must realise that the water level is more than a dozen of metres below than in rainy times.

Picture 13.15: On the zip-line.

Picture 13.16: I tested single strand dyneema in such a configuration. Such a material cannot bear any shock, but it can bear important static forces. I never encountered any problem. If it had been the case, the rope of the zip-line (white) was also directly tied to a tree.

Picture 13.17: My survey of the Puits de la Brême.

Picture 13.18: (Courtesy of Nathalie Boudinet) It is always a pleasure to perform some tests. Here, I’m testing the possibility to ascend along dyneema as evoked in Chapter 8. The thicker yellow rope is just here for safety and comparison.

Picture 13.19: My survey of the Aven du Tegoul. Several free softwares are available, I made it using Survex (http://survex.com/) because it isn’t limited to the Windows world. It is available for UNIX-based systems, Macintosh as well as Linux.

Picture 13.20: I used dyneema in order to equip the entrance of the Aven du Tegoul and to transport my material. I installed a rope and progressed along it, but the rope was positioned at the right place using dyneema at place of a small zip-line.

Picture 13.21: One of the dyneema strands was directly tied on the bolt-hangers. The limiting factor is the resistance of the bolts, not the resistance of the dyneema itself (Of course, you have to know what you are doing).

Picture 13.22: In such a configuration, if one of the anchors fails, there is no shock, just a swing. Therefore, dyneema can be used in single strand in such a situation without “fearing the shock that will break the rope.” A lot of false beliefs are propagated by people who don’t have the proper scientific knowledges. The risk would rather be to burn the dyneema (regardless it is a simple or a double strand) with one’s acetylene light if one hasn’t evolved toward LEDs.

Picture 13.23: I prefer to have few true friends. In addition to Denis, Sylvain, Michel and some other, I shared some underground incursions with Isabelle M. We brushed dead together in the Vercors, in a flooded pit.

CONCLUSION

My new life of caving has become farther from première not only because of ethical reasons but also because of social and material ones. It is less easy to find new caves when one has chosen to have reduced ‘social’ resources among the milieu of caving and to focus oneself on the material world.

During 2007, being at that time not fully conscious of living such a process, I had written in my diary a text the English translation could be ‘Where to get what?’ It is worth to reproduce it.

Finding and exploring new caves (karstic phenomena penetrable by man, KPP) is one of the aims of caving. The traditional approach of many cavers is the following. One has find some bibliography in books or reviews, or one has been told that it was interesting caves in a massif, so one goes there. One comes back with more or less satisfactions according to the caves discovered or visited.

So exploration is an ethnocentric and very relative notion. It is very scarce to find directly a new cave without using information coming from other people and that have been refined and sorted out by them. The way to new caves is full of obstacles; what follows is a reckoning of the different difficulties and bottlenecks one will find.

In addition to the duality between speleology and karstology, one can find obstacles in two different fields:

• Exploiting maps, satellite and aerial views, using data about hydrology, geology and investigating the surface topography. This is the physical field.

• Having successful contacts with (cavers or non-cavers) specialists of the area and with locals. This is the human field.

These two tasks are necessary and mark the difference between non-paid caving and simple tourism. They enable to know if there is some KPP in the area, where they are and what their profile is (for instance sumps, horizontal caves, vertical caves). Their results are necessary in order to decide: is the exploration interesting enough regarding the caver’s motivations? They are also necessary in order to decide what kind of material is needed.

About Speleology and Karstology

At least in France, karstology is an academic field. The literature review can be easier because it deals with more official documents, with systematic ISBN numbers. This literature review can give deeper results. However, not all the massifs that appear as karstic because of their hydrology or their morphology contain KPP. One must thoroughly avoid this trap.

Regarding the Physical Field

At a large scale, finding the areas of our planet where one could find interesting karsts is, in fact, a human problem: Are proper maps available? Are the relevant data properly entered? This question is particularly pregnant for the world map and for maps at continental scales of non-Western countries. At lower scale, what features correspond very likely to KPP?

Karstification can process only if one has:

• Rock that can be karstified, properly dissolved

• An input of water able to perform corrosion

• A minimal difference in height so that water can flow

• Open fracturing allowing underground flows.

This list indicates where looking for KPP is relevant. The three first items are obvious and explain why karstic massifs correspond often to foothills areas (however, the examples of Belgian karsts, gypsum caves in Ukraine, sumps in Yucatan and chalky islands show that karstification can also process far from mountains). The fourth item isn’t obvious at all and can explain that one finds few or no caves in very favourable areas. Regarding surface topography, KPPs are more correlated to specific shapes such as:

• The existence of springs and particularly Vauclusian springs

• The existence of shafts

• The existence of blind valleys.

Dolines and limestone gorges aren’t very well correlated with the existence of KPP. There exist several mechanisms leading to the formation of dolines, and some of them aren’t linked to KPP. Limestone gorges are interesting as natural sections of the massif, but one must avoid the confusion between small ‘caves’ in their crags due to frost shattering and true caves. There exists a partial correlation between the existence of dry valleys and the presence of KPP. Sometimes one can find conduits below the dry valley or caves on their banks. However, it isn’t a full correlation. There exist dry valleys without known KPP.

Exploiting maps and related data are always processing incomplete information:

• Some areas or massifs aren’t mapped in a fine-enough fashion because of their lack of interest regarding mines, oil or warfare. Some maps are too old and partially false. Even if reliable maps exist, the geological sections aren’t systematically available. Eventually, caving, on the one hand, and mines and oil, on the other hand, have different aims and proceed at different scales. What is useful for the one is always irrelevant for the other.

• Maps and geological data are sometimes concealed or very expensive to buy. The caver is often obliged to buy many maps, and after a thorough study in order to identify the most interesting areas, he will only use a small part of what he has bought. This a huge loss of money; one can strongly regret that maps aren’t freely and currently available on the internet.

So drawing maps can be an aim in itself because very few maps give correct representations of KPP. The formation of KPP isn’t static. This is a dynamic process due to an imbalance between the formation of underground voids inside the bedrock and their filling or decapitation. These opposite processes lead to interesting questions regarding caving. What must be the minimal duration of an extensive tectonic leading to the development of penetrable conduits? Regarding climatic surroundings, how much time take filling or decapitation? KPP can be found only if the tectonics are or have been extensive and if one arrives at the right time. This can be an explanation of the fact that KPPs are scarcer than limestone areas.

The precise nature and flawlessness of limestone is less important than its position in the stratigraphic scale. When limestone is covered by non-karstifiable or impervious rocks, karstification can be impeded or enhanced, depending on the precise context. This is the same situation when layers of limestone between other layers are folded and fractured. Most of the huge caves take place in sheer and compact limestone, but there exist many counter-examples, for instance the Source de l’Orbiquet in Normandy, the caves of the Meuse (a French department) and the Source du Giclard described in chapter 3.

Regarding the Human Field

Foremost, not all the interlocutors do have the same mental picture of what is a KPP and what is caving.

• The locals may have a very different picture of what a cave is. For instance, in several countries of North Africa, a cave is utilitarian. It is a shelter for the sheep or a place when one can draw water. Then, a sinkhole isn’t a cave, for it is useless. One can draw water more easily before the brook enters underground. On the contrary, a simple recess in a crag can be regarded as a cave because it is a shelter. A shaft can be anything, for instance a canyon or a breakdown devoid of continuation.

• It can be very difficult to explain who one is, to explain that one isn’t exactly a rich sightseer who can be interested in something else than KPP.

Numerical exaggeration or distortion is frequent in the speech of non-cavers. A cave ‘developing several kilometres’ can be a small one. Only a proper survey enables to solve this problem. This is done after the discovery and during or after the first exploration. There is nothing else to do. Regarding communication, acceding to information and sorting out the right information is a pregnant problem. In foreign countries, a language barrier can exist, which is next to the mental picture above. One has to find the proper words in order to transmit unusual or complex ideas to the interlocutors. One cannot be sure that a translator or a multilingual interlocutor has a good knowledge of caving concepts. Regarding the access to information, one has to find the proper people who know something really interesting. Often, the arrival of cavers is a more interesting information for common people than the existence of KPP! For locals, the so-called interest of KPP for these cavers can generate several problems in Western countries as well as in remote countries:

• The utilitarian temptation. If the KPPs interest the cavers, perhaps there is money to earn or other interesting things to get. Then the KPPs are a precious resource that mustn’t be spread. The risk for the caver is to receive false or incomplete information and to move endless from an uninteresting place to another.

• The fear. In addition to possible taboos and other religious problems, there is the fear of what is unknown, the fear of possible accidents, the fears of changes induced by the exploration, the fear of being disturbed… . Sometimes the fear is a pretext and conceals a conflict of interests.

The genesis and early stages of exploration projects is always less described in the reports and other publications than the discoveries by themselves. One has to survey the caves, but this will bring something only to a reader eager to continue the exploration exactly in the same place. This has a reduced worth regarding the general learning of exploration (especially exploration in foreign countries).

I do no longer ask myself if I have the right to live and the right to make explorations. I do my best to have the wildest and widest possible life. Regarding the milieu of caving, I am perfectly aware to be outside the norm. On the one hand, to practise an activity, on the other hand, to socialise with people who practise this activity are two very different concepts.

It is especially difficult to live a part of one’s life outside of the norm or to have skills different from everybody’s skills without being suspected. During Middle Ages and even later, witches have been burnt or hanged because of that rather than of real offences. I feel often like a witch. The equivalent of her magic broom could be a rebreather, a Macintosh or another strange apparatus. Perhaps our century has succeeded to create a kind of offence that has nothing to do with the fact of injuring, killing, raping someone or stealing him/her? Are you an offender if you don’t resemble other people?

In addition to the problems regarding this leisure activity, another important problem arises. When you practise an extra-professional activity, at least in my country, you are easily regarded as someone who doesn’t his best at job. Nobody thinks that on the contrary your hobby could enrich your job and render you more skilful. The stranger the extra-professional activity and your personal life are, the higher the suspicion is. As already explained, I have suffered a lot of this suspicion even if I have always worked honestly. If I had to answer to a court, my answer would be the following: I think I have to work in order to sustain my life and not the contrary that is living exclusively in order to work. I have not to apologise for this point of view. Furthermore, I think it is a very safe and sane one, for it obliges to be really efficient at work if you want to save up time.

Another accusation has been to be dispersed. Many people told me that I should concentrate on a very few number of goals. They also told me that what matters is to be the best in one field, that being at 90% or 99% of the best level in several fields is a useless loss of time, energy, resource. I have suffered during a long time of such remarks that are not relevant at the time scale of a whole life (any field evolves, you cannot remain the best).

Regarding society’s expectations, I think that I have proven my value several times in several fields when I was received with the first rank at the agrégation, when I was received as monitor of scuba diving, when I obtained my doctorate and also further when I made decisive contributions to reach some professional goals. And of course, I have also made some premières underground.

Since my childhood, I know very well, better than anyone, that if you concentrate on a single field in order to become the best, you will just become a specialist who ignores numerous things in other fields. On the opposite side, in prep classes as well as in the milieu of sport, I have seen many people who only wanted to acquire ‘general knowledge’. They always think that supplementary knowledge is useless, especially if it doesn’t belong to the core of the official curriculum. Such people are specialists of nothing and are useless too. I think that the higher you want to develop yourself, the larger basis you must have. A too-small basis exposes, like a tree or a building, to the risk of being broken. A large basis is not compulsory a continuous one. At a certain scale, the partial study of fields that are very distant to each other is more important than the extensive study of one field. This is a part of what I described as a star character. For instance, you can choose to study only some authors of philosophy and some poets, or some poems from one poet, and at the same time choose to study statistical physics, quantum physics, but not electrodynamics. Of course, this is a question of scale; for instance, a deep study in statistical physics and in quantum physics needs some basic knowledge in electrodynamics. Another example: in order to translate an English poem into French, you must have good knowledge regarding both languages, but a whole knowledge of the author’s life and of his/her other poems is perhaps secondary. Life is a process of limited duration. Having a good life can be regarded as optimisation: being too dispersed or too specialised isn’t the right way. As I have a special character, my solution of this optimisation problem isn’t the solution chosen by other people. I think that a minimal dispersion is not only acceptable but necessary if one wants to succeed.

I think also that ‘success’ is nothing. When one wants to be the best and to reach the maximal level, some people think that there exists an absolute maximal level that will never be overstepped. Some other people think that it will always remain possible to do better. This controversy is particularly vivid, for instance, in the field of rock climbing or in the field of theoretical physics. I think that such a difference of points of view is purely artificial and shows that many people are unable to have a relativistic outlook. Some mathematical transformations are known that allow to project something infinite (for instance a straight line) over something finite (for example a semicircle) and reciprocally. It is very clear that the end of a semicircle is an absolute limit whereas reaching the end of a straight line will never finish. So I no longer ask myself if I have reached something or if I am the best. I just try to do my best, and I just try to always choose the most interesting for myself regardless of the interest it has for other persons who try to put themselves in my shoes. Because of that, some people have said or even written that I was mentally ill. Sometimes I have forgotten my laptop in a car or made other blunders when hearing or reading this kind of sentence. It is very easy when you belong to the mass and when you have never encountered serious problems to judge other people. In the darkest part of my life, I have been really ill during three weeks, with intellectual and physical troubles. I got an intimate knowledge of that problem, and I am more able than all those people to make the difference between illness and non-illness.

Account taken of all the above, I cannot give any definitive conclusion. If my underground life or my whole life had to stop here, I just would fix the following ideas:

First of all, one must retain that learning and teaching are very different. They are separating things even if they appear similar at first glance. Teaching means very often teaching for the largest number. Except the ideal situations of one teacher per pupil I have encountered in some scarce training sessions doomed to oblivion, teaching contains always a kind of violence. This non-physical violence is the one of imposing methods and views to people who naturally would develop other methods and views. It can be a violence exerted by a teacher towards his/her numerous pupils or on the contrary a violence exerted by the pupils towards a teacher. In both situations, someone does her/his best but is totally unable to give the others what they expect (is it a kind of disability?). In addition, teachers repeat often what they have been taught rather than what they have lived by themselves. In addition to official curricula, this is a trend for any teaching system to become closed and disconnected from reality. On the contrary, learning is often more open. The basis is:

• Try something.

• Make a mistake.

• Correct this mistake.

In a majority of cave diving training sessions and other training sessions, one of the first things explained is that the afore-described method is wrong, for it can lead to fatal errors. It is particularly true that if you are badly wounded or if you die after a mistake, you have no chance to correct and improve yourself. This assertion justifies, during the training session, a presentation of the basic principles of the activity. I totally agree with that, and if I would have to teach again cave diving to beginners, I would proceed in the same fashion. Nevertheless, this assertion has not a general validity. It implies that there exists someone who has already the knowledge. This can be false, especially when one has to cope with totally new and unknown situations, materials, problems. So I state that what matters is to quickly become to be able to learn by oneself. What matters is also to develop a proper instinct in order to avoid fatal mistakes. This is probably the more difficult, for it requires a good knowledge (not by books, by life) of many pre-existing situations and a deep sense of anticipation and forebodings. You are at the same time the engineer, the constructor and the test pilot of an engine, which is yourself. You are alone, and in such a context, the following questions must be deeply developed:

• What can fail?

• If it fails, what can happen?

• In such a situation, what is to do in order to avoid fatal issue?

This fashion of doing things is very well explained by the female test pilot Hanna Reitsch in her aforementioned book (The Sky My Kingdom, ‘Test Gliding’). She explains that one has to proceed step by step. For instance, one must avoid reaching immediately the full capacity of the tested material. Discussions with the constructor and with specialists have to take place in order to analyse the defects and to make improvements before going further. Tests in more difficult conditions are done only when the tested material works well in normal conditions. These tests allow to make finer adjustments and to know the limits. This takes a lot of time, and very likely, tests and improvements will continue even after the beginning of the ‘mass-production’.

One must also retain the essential notions of freedom and liberty. It is worth to recall the definitions (according to Oxford Dictionary of English) in a complex world that contains too many people:

Liberty: the state of being free within society from oppressive restrictions imposed by authority on one’s way of life, behaviour, or political views.

Freedom: the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants without hindrance or restraint.

• absence of subjection to foreign domination or despotic government

• the state of not being imprisoned or enslaved

• the state of being physically unrestricted and able to move easily

• the power of self-determination attributed to the will; the quality of being independent of fate or necessity

• unrestricted use of something

It is amazing to see how, in order to continue to get social benefits or to preserve their power, the leaders of some institutions have accepted or even promoted rules that are against liberty and freedom. In addition, those leaders have been elected according to the rules of representative democracy. Despite the numerous possibilities in the electronic world (for instance, it allows safe electronic commerce, so voting by internet should be safe too), they have not been directly elected. In addition, their subsequent decisions have not been submitted to any direct vote. Rules are unavoidable in everyday life, which can be regarded as the alimentary part of life. But if human is not devoid of consciousness, if humans are really different from animals and machines, there must exist places where liberty and freedom can really exist, can be enacted and not only thought. My opinion is that some kind of engaged outdoor activities are such a place. In the Mammalia class, mankind is the only species that is able to breed itself. However, explorers cannot be bred or even too closely tamed. They are free forever.

REFERENCES

(with some remarks in parentheses)

Books and publications in the field of cave diving, caves & karst.

Christian Thomas, “L’homme Froid,” Sifon 32 (1998):14–20.

(French language)

GIPEK, Inventaire Spéléologique du Doubs (Montrond le Château: GIPEK, 2010)

(French language, available at http://www.speleo-doubs.com/inventaire/presentation.php).

“Le Massif de la Chartreuse,” accessed on 30 April 2015, http://www.geol-alp.com/chartreuse/index_chartreuse.html

(This is the website of Professor Maurice Gidon, in French Language. It is unavoidable if one wants to study the geology of alpine massifs)

Baudoin Lismonde and Philippe Drouin, Chartreuse Souterraine (Grenoble: CDS 38, 1984).

(French language)

Baudoin Lismonde, La Dent de Crolles et son Réseau Souterrain (Grenoble: CDS 38, 1997).

(French language, ISBN 2-902670-38-9)

Philippe Audra, “Karsts alpins, genèse des grands réseaux souterrains,” Karstologia Mémoires 5 (1994).

(French language with English and German abstracts)

Havron, Quinif, and Vandycke, “Tectonique et karstification, le cas de la région de Han sur Lesse (Belgique),” Karstologia 46 (2004):19:26.

(French language with English abstract).

Yves Quinif, “Dissipation d’énergie et adaptabilité dans les systèmes karstiques,” Karstologia 31 (1998):1–11.

(French language with English abstract)

Derek Ford and Paul Williams, Karst Hydrogeology and Geomorphology (New York: John Wiley & Sons, 2007).

(English language, ISBN 978-0-470-84997-2)

Klimchouk et al, ed., Speleogenesis, Evolution of karst aquifers (Huntsville: National Speleological Society, 2001).

(English Language, ISBN 1-879961-09-1)

“Info Plongée N°71 Spécial Fil d’Ariane,” accessed on 30 April 2015, http://www.calameo.com/books/000534681815b81338a2b

(French Language)

Informatics

Visual Topo, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://vtopo.free.fr/

(Software devoted to survey and available only for Windows operating systems. If you use Macintosh or Linux, you can try to run it with Wine. Available in English)

Survex, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://survex.com/

(Software devoted to survey and available for Unix operating systems, Linux as well as Mac. It is also available for Windows. Beginning with it is less easy, but it is more universal.)

Ubuntu, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://www.ubuntu.com/

(If you want to try or install Linux on your PC, this is one of the best distributions. There exist other distributions with other qualities, including the very reliable Debian available at https://www.debian.org/index.fr.html)

Gerris, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://gfs.sourceforge.net/wiki/index.php/Main_Page

(I used Gerris in order to model scallops. Perhaps it could be interesting for other cavers who want to develop other hydrodynamical models.)

Other publications of the author

Pierre Boudinet, “Fontaine Noire du Cozon,” Info Plongée 35 (2007):31–35.

(French language, available at http://fr.calameo.com/read/000534681e9853ec7ea9c)

Pierre Boudinet, “Topographie et première au Gouffre de Planagrèze,” Actes du Congrès International Vercors 2008 (2008):142–145.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet and Denis Langlois, “Plongée Fond de Trou au Gouffre du Paradis,” Actes du Congrès International Vercors 2008 (2008):146–149.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet, “Exploration et topographie de la Source de l’Écoutôt,” Spelunca 105 (2007):30–35.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet and Denis Langlois, “Explorations au Gouffre du Paradis,” Spelunca 110 (2008):27–37.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet, “Échos des Profondeurs. Igue de Planagrèze,” Spelunca 114 (2009):4–5.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet, “Exploration à la Fontaine des Poues,” Spelunca 116 (2009):10–14.

(French language)

Denis Langlois and Pierre Boudinet, “Échos des Profondeurs. Le Gouffre de Génieux,” Spelunca 120 (2010):9–10.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet, “Topographie de quelques siphons dans le Doubs,” Spelunca 123 (2011):17–22.

(French language)

Eric Suzzonni et al., “Le Scialet de l’Aspirateur,” Spelunca 125 (2012):27–37.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet, “Spéléologique théorique et pratique à la Source Bleue de Cusance,” Spelunca 127 (2012):21–29.

(French language)

Pierre Boudinet, “Recent results and questions about scallops,” Eurospéléo Magazine N°1, pp. 50–55, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://issuu.com/eurospeleomagazine/docs/esm_1-1-2012?e=6125150/2624523.

Pierre Boudinet, “Re-exploration do the Aven du tegoul and Coming out,” Speleo International N°1, pp. 80–86, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://issuu.com/mihaelanicoletamicula/docs/speleo_international_magazine.

Pierre Boudinet, “Long Distance Cave Diving,” Speleo International N°1, pp. 88–95, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://issuu.com/mihaelanicoletamicula/docs/speleo_international_magazine.

Pierre Boudinet, “Why caves are so scarce,” Speleo International N°1, pp. 96–101, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://issuu.com/mihaelanicoletamicula/docs/speleo_international_magazine.

Pierre Boudinet, “Survey of the Aven du tegoul and Coming out,” Speleo International N°1, pp. 138–143, accessed on 30 April 2015, http://issuu.com/mihaelanicoletamicula/docs/speleo_international_magazine.

Pierre Boudinet’s website, accessed on 31 March 2015, http://pboudinet.dynalias.com/~speleo/speleo.php.

Literary books out of the field of caving and other references

René Amalberti, “Ultrasécurité : Une épée de Damoclès pour les hautes technologies,” Dossiers de La Recherche 26 (2007).

(French language)

Hannah Arendt, Between Past and Future (Penguin Books, London: 1977).

(ISBN 978-0-14-310481-0; the editor’s site is www.penguin.co.uk.)

Per Bak, How Nature Works: The Science of Self-organized Critacility (Springer Verlag, New York: 1996).

(ISBN 0-387-94791-4; Very interesting, it can be read by specialists in theoretical physics as well as lay people having enough curiosity.)

William Blake, Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience (Dover Publications, New York).

(ISBN-13 978-0-486-27051-7. This has absolutely nothing to do with caving or theoretical physics.)

Edmund Blunden, Undertones of War (Chicago, University of Chicago Press).

(ISBN-13 978-0226061764. A classical of WWI literature)

Alexandra David-Néel, le Bouddhisme de Bouddha (Pocket)

(ISBN-13 978-2266142564, French language. The author explains the principles of Buddhism in a fashion that is easy to understand by Western people.)

Taisen Deshimaru, Zen et Arts Martiaux (Albin Michel, Spiritualités vivantes).

(ISBN-13 978-2226017888, French language)

Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (First Rate Publishers).

(ISBN-13 978-1494821814. The author is a major poet.)

Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature and Other Essays (Dover Publications, New York: 2009).

(ISBN-13 978-0-486-46947-8. Emerson’s essays are still vivid.)

Paul Fussel, The Great War and Modern Memory (Oxford University Press).

(ISBN 978-0-19-513332-5, a literary analysis of the memory of WWI)

Robert Graves, Goodbye to All That (Penguin Books)

(ISBN 978-0-141-18459-3, a classical of WWI literature, the author is a major English poet.)

Joseph Kessel, Vent de Sable (Folio, Gallimard)

(ISBN 9782070403455, French language)

Lynn Hill, Climbing Free: My Life in the Vertical World (W.W. Norton & Company, New York & London: 2002).

(ISBN 0-393-32433-85195, top-level climbing by a female author. Site of the editor: www.wwnorton.com)

Eric J. Leed, No Man’s Land, Combat & Identity in World War I (Cambridge University Press:

1979).

(ISBN 078-0-521-28573-5, a literary analysis of the troubles encountered by WWI soldiers)

“Claude Lévi-Strauss, Le prétendu humanisme moderne,”

(Excerpt of an interview with Jean-Marie Benoist printed in the newspaper Le Monde on 21 and 22 January 1979, French language)

Pier Luigi Luisi, The Emergence of Life: From Chemical Origins to Synthetic Biology (Cambridge University Press).

(ISBN-13 978-0521528016. Life is one of the most complex systems and the support for other complex systems: the human thought and the human society)

Reinhold Messner, The Seventh Grade: Most Extreme Climbing (Oxford University Press, New York).

(ISBN 0-19-520373-9. Top-level climbing by a male author)

Hannah Reitsch, The Sky My Kingdom (Greenhill Books).

Siegfried Sassoon, The Complete Memoirs of Georges Sherston (Faber & Faber)

(ISBN-13 978-0571099139. A classical of WWI literature)

May Sinclair, A Journal of Impressions in Belgium (Forgotten Books, Classic Reprint series).

(The editor’s site is www.forgottenbooks.org.)

Nan Shepherd, The Living Mountain (Canongate, Edinburgh & London)

(ISBN 978 0 85786 183 2. The editor’s site is www.canongate.tv.)

J. M. Ziman, Elements of Advanced Quantum Mechanics (Cambridge University Press)

(ISBN 0-521-09949-8. This is a book devoted to theoretical physics; it is interesting only for specialists in physics.)

J. M. Ziman, Models of Disorder (Cambridge University Press, London, New York, Melbourne: 1979).

(ISBN 978-0-521-29280-1. This is a book devoted to theoretical physics; it is interesting only for specialists in physics. The editor’s site is www.cambridge.com.)

ENDNOTES

1 This poem can be found on the internet for instance at http://www.everywritersresource.com/poemeveryday/far-off-shore-by-herman-melville/