In 1966 or 1967 four of us set off for a two day dig in Russell's Crawl.  
Members of the party as I remember were Gary Davis, Ed Glenn, Ed Snyder and 
myself.  We entered the cave on Friday evening and proceeded to the dig face at 
the end of Russell's Crawl.  At that time the Hoeman's Passage had not been 
started and we were following the air straight ahead in Russell's Crawl.  We 
took turns digging and had been digging for about 24 hours so it was late 
Saturday night or early Sunday morning when Ed Glenn returned from his stint at 
the dig face.  He proceeded to tell us about the lovely young girl that he had 
met and how enchanting she was.  At that point in time the rest of us 
determined that he was hallucinating and it was time to get out of there.  We 
exited the cave with no further problems except that Ed was firmly convinced 
that he had actually met the young lady and that he was not hallucinating.  On 
another dig trip with Ed Snyder, Gary Davis, John King and myself we were 
digging in Russell's Crawl when we all heard a dog barking.  It was strange 
because at first none of us wanted to admit that he had heard a dog barking.  
The source of the dog barking was never determined.  
I believe that the folding shovel with Gary Davis's name on it may have been 
left there on one of these digging adventures.  
 
Ken   

Life isn't about waiting for the storm to pass - It's about dancing in the 
rain. 
 
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 2014 09:51:38 -0500
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
CC: [email protected]
Subject: Re: [SWR] A New Thread: Crawlways


  
    
  
  
    I remember my first trip through the
      infamous Russell's Crawl.  It was in
        1971 or there about.  The sand
          siphon is only 6 inches high and it descends at a 15% angle.  One has 
to dig the
            sand out, push the sand behind you and literally bury yourself as 
you worm
                your way in.  I was new to caving
                  and didn't like tight crawls.  By the time that I was 
through, I was in a
                          near panic.  I wanted out of there.  About 10
                          or 15 from the siphon, I tried to turn around.  Too 
tight.  When it opened up after another few feet, I
                                        was like Curly of
                                              the Three Stooges lying
                                                on the floor and trying
                                                  to walk myself in a
                                                    circle.  "Whew,
                                                    whew, whew!"  I
                                                    could have gone another 10
                                                      feet, where the
                                                      passage opened
    up, but noooooooo.  Fortunately, the sand siphon is much easier to
    exit than enter.  I went there a couple of years later, but never
    went much farther than the twin rooms.

    

    Steve, you want to do Fool's Crawl?  I am sure that we can get some
    poor fool to push a camera ahead of him or her and we can watch it
    from the comfort of our respective living rooms.

    Mike

    

    On 3/11/2014 8:39 AM, Steve Peerman
      wrote:

    
    Mike,
       An
        interesting topic, and it brings back memories -- but not of
        Fool's Crawl, because I wasn't on any of those trips.  I've
        never been through Fool's Crawl -- it had to have been someone
        else.  
      

      
       One
        interesting crawlway memory that I have involves Russell's
        Crawl, not far from the entrance of Fort Stanton Cave.  
        Russell's Crawl is not muddy like Fool's Crawl, but does have a
        section where one has to "swim" through the sand that almost
        fills the crawlway.   At any rate, I was in Russell's Crawl
        during an SWR regional many years ago, when a desperate need to
        visit the rest room hit me (take a dump; pinch a log; drop a
        load; i.e., defecate).   I did not have a burrito bag with me.  
       I
        faced the choice of using my pack as a toilet or attempting to
        make it to the surface to the one-holer that used to be just
        downhill from the fence gate.  A number of issues were on my
        mind.  #1 -- I had to swim through the sand crawl -- not an easy
        task, even when you don't have something else "pressing".  #2,
        there is a substantial amount of vertical relief between
        Russell's Crawl and the surface.  Exercise generally acts as a
        stimulant for a bowel movement.   #3 -- the main and fence gates
        would likely be open, considering that this was a regional, but
        perhaps not.  Any unnecessary delays could be messy.  #4 -- (my
        worst fear) the toilet might be occupied.  
       I
        told my companions about my dilemma, and they did not see using
        my pack as a toilet as a viable option in the small passage.  So
        I began the journey to the surface.  You know how everything
        seems to take longer when you are in a hurry?  The swim through
        the sand crawl seemed to take forever.  Even though it was only
        maybe 10 or 15 feet long, progress seemed to go by fractions of
        an inch.  Once out of the crawlway, I was on a dead run for the
        surface.  The main gate was fortunately open.   I recall passing
        another group in the entrance sink.  I didn't pause for
        conversation, but said, "you didn't lock the gate did you?"  
        "Ah no, what's the hurry?"  Perhaps they saw the desperation in
        my countenance.  I don't know, I didn't wait around to discuss
        the matter.  I flew out the gate and headed down the hill,
        yelling, "anyone in there?" as I approached.  The gods were
        smiling.  It was unoccupied.
       Relief.
         I made it.  
       Moral
        of the story -- always have a burrito bag.  Or better yet, visit
        the bathroom before the caving trip.
      

        
          On Mar 10, 2014, at 7:00 PM, Michael Lorimer wrote:
          
          
            
             I would like open up a new discussion
                thread.  We have all had many wonderful caving
                experiences, some of them bordering on the fantastic.  I
                would like to start the ball rolling with crawlways. 
                How about writing something about your best or worst
                crawlway experience?  The good, the bad, the muddiest,
                the most horrible, the funniest.  You name it. 

                

              
              Fool’s
                  Crawl, Fort Stanton Cave, New Mexico

              
              

                            I first ‘heard’ of Fool’s Crawl when I saw
                it in 1970 on the standard map that the BLM handed out
                with its permits.  While I was interested, I was too
                busy digging with Lee Skinner and “super digger” Dennis
                Engle to check it out.  It was around the spring of 1974
                that I made my first attempt to worm my way through what
                was rumored to be a rather tight and nasty crawl.  Now
                my memory isn’t good enough to recall those who
                accompanied me on these trips, but I believe that Steve
                Peerman was on every trip.  As we entered the Sewer
                Pipe, almost immediately we encountered water.  At
                first, it was only a little soupy mud.  Then it became
                water-filled footprints.  As we traveled farther into
                the Sewer Pipe, we sloshed through 3 inch deep water. 
                The water became deeper as we progressed.  Soon we were
                sliding over slick mounds of clay as the ceiling lowered
                and the water deepened to a couple of feet.  Our little
                adventure was halted when we came to where the cave
                siphoned.  I crawled to where theceiling met that water
                and looked to see if I could spot the infamous crawl. 
                Nope.  From hindsight, I estimate that we were some ten
                to twenty feet from the actual Fool’s Crawl.  As a side
                note, there were many little irregular shaped rafts that
                were some 3 or 4 inches in diameter and composed some sort of
                calcareous material floating on the water near the
                siphon.  It reminded me of the snowflakes in Snowflake
                Passage.

                

                            Later that year or the next year, we tried
                it again.  I must confess that I hate tight crawlways as
                I am a bit claustrophobic.  With that in mind, I
                ‘researched’ the crawl by talking to veteran cavers. 
                What I heard was basically, “It is tight, but it opens
                up rather quickly.”  Because of my fear of tight spaces,
                I led.  If I can keep moving, if only inch by painful
                inch then my mind isn’t occupied by thoughts of where I
                am, which is entombed by millions of tons of unescapable
                rock.  I hate moving forward and seeing a pair of boots
                blocking my way and having to wait for someone or many
                someones to slither their
                  way through a tight spot.  When I came to the
                crawlway, the water level was down and only a puddle
                remained at the tightest and lowest spot of the crawl. 
                The crawlway is roughly 15 inches wide and perhaps a
                foot tall.  I tried to go through with my belly down and
                my shoulders parallel, but my shoulders were too wide. 
                I wiggled in on my back with my right arm extended over
                my head, pushing my pack and my carbide light-equipped
                helmet ahead of me.  My left arm hung uselessly down at
                my side.  At the tightest spot, I discovered that the
                puddle was some 6 inches deep and, with my body
                displacing most of the water, the level rose.  Now I was
                in a passage with water filling it to about 2 or 3
                inches from the ceiling.  I remember the water lapping
                at my face.  It was very slippery and I wiggled like an
                eel to squeeze my body through that tight, water-soaked
                mud hole.  Relief flooded through me when I finally
                exited from the fool’s part of the crawl.  Now the
                passage had risen to a whole 14 or 15 inches and was
                about 3 feet wide.  The ceiling, walls and floor were
                coated with wet slippery mud and so was I.  It might as
                well have had ice for all the progress I was making, but
                make progress I made, a half inch at a time.  After
                about 2 or 3 body lengths of slowly working my way
                forward, I was able to crawl on hands and knees into
                Snowflake Passage.  I knew that I could and would take
                the easy exit via the Skyscraper Domes.  One of the
                advantages of being first is that you can listen to the
                complaints and swearing coming from deep within the
                passage that you just vacated and greet
                your muddy friends as they exit.

                

                            A year later, I tried the crawl again.  I
                had a fresh crop of novice cavers who were willing to
                try something challenging.  This time Fool’s Crawl was
                dry.  Fort Stanton Cave never quite dries out though. 
                Now, instead of being super slippery, the walls, floor,
                ceiling and I were coated with sticky mud.  It was like
                I was wearing a Velcro suit and the cave was wearing the
                hooks.  As before, I went first as I pushed my pack and
                helmet ahead of me.  I couldn't

                  drag myself forward as the floor acted like glue.  I had to
                lift my body up a half inch, push forward and come
                down.  Repeat. Repeat.  I can’t remember how many times
                I did that simple action.  Once I was past the tight
                spot, I discovered that if I lifted myself a little too
                high, I stuck to the ceiling.  I was also sticking to the 
floor.  Lift, move forward a 1/2 inch.  Down.  And repeat. 
                Progress was made a slow half inch at a time.  By
                comparison, being a wet muddy fish in that wet muddy
                crawl was easier (but not by much), than being a caving
                "tar baby" in a tight passage coated with the sticky equivalent 
of caver
                tar.  That was the last time I went through Fool’s
                Crawl.  I imagine that the crawl hasn’t changed since
                Steve and I crawled through it some 30 years ago.  If
                you are inclined to brave the tight stuff and would like
                to sample a bit of claustrophobia, you might give Fool’s
                Crawl a try.  I am too old and too fat to do it again. 
                Thank goodness. 

                

              

              -- 
Michael D. Lorimer
1826 Mount Joy Dr.
San Antonio, TX 78232
575 644-1763
            
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                  Steve
                    Peerman
                  

                  
                  
                    "Twenty years from now you will be more
                    disappointed by the things you didn't do than by the
                    ones you did. So throw off the bowlines, Sail away
                    from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your
                    sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."
                    
                     attributed to Mark Twain, but no record exists of
                    his having written this.
                
              
            
        
        

      
    
    

    -- 
Michael D. Lorimer
1826 Mount Joy Dr.
San Antonio, TX 78232
575 644-1763
  


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