But Nancy, your story isn't complete. Didn't the Arc narks try to have you  
arrested for going to the cave in the first place? That has happened to me 
three  times in Belize.
 
The first time a humorless jerk named Tom Miller tried to have me thrown  
out of the country for visiting the Chiquibul cave without his permission.  
(Logan can tell you all about it.) That didn't work because I was already  
there. He wrote letters to the forestry department and the University of 
Florida  accusing me of being a temple looter and drug user who consorts with 
known  outlaws (specifically Arturo and Brother Moses of gales Point). The 
first  accusation is untrue but the second two are true. Upon exiting the Vaca 
plateau  but before writing the letters he burned down my friend Santiago's 
house along  with all of his meager belongings, then left a ten dollar bill 
and a note saying  "sorry". 
 
Then there was the time the director of the Belize Audubon society tried to 
 get the Belize Defense Force (BDF) to search for me in the jungle for the 
crime  of entering the Bladen nature preserve without his personal 
permission. The BDF  just laughed because they never go into the jungle, there 
could 
be snakes out  there! On my way out I ran into a so called "Rapid 
Environmental Assessment"  team funded by the Nature Conservancy and supported 
by the 
British army (those  damned helicopters again!) They had catered meals with 
fresh salads and dessert  yet denied me a pinch of salt. Even though they 
could see I had nothing but a  small pack and the clothes on my back they 
accused me of being a looter. While  saying this they were standing next to 
large sack loads of looted  artifacts.
 
Then an archeologist named Dunham? took great exception to the fact that I  
had explored the valley of Sleazeweazel branch, an upstream tributary of 
the  Bladen branch even further up the Monkey river. There is a small ruin  
there and he wanted credit for being the first person to discover it (by  
helicopter of course!) He apparently brought in a large number of Mayans and  
utterly destroyed the place. His reported pilferage of a large amount of jade  
may or may not be true. I can't bear the thought of it so I haven't been 
back. I  tried to cooperate by sending him photographs of what I had 
discovered.  Unfortunately the aforementioned criminals had in fact dug open a 
grave, 
I  caught them and reinterred the remains. Perhaps it was unwise of me to 
take a  photo of the king's skull with a snake crawling through the eye 
socket. Dunham  was eventually thrown out of the country. Some years later a 
friend of mine who  is a real (i.e. non insane) archeologist attended a 
conference in Belmopan. He  heard my name mentioned and turned to say, "he's a 
friend of mine". For that  they tried to throw him out of the country too.
 
Not all archeologists are insane. What about Logan? (although I have my  
doubts) Why doesn't he pipe up? 
 
SW
 
 
In a message dated 11/6/2012 1:23:25 P.M. Eastern Standard Time,  
[email protected] writes:

ah always such a gust of fresh air.   thought you might enjoy my experience 
with 'legitimate' grave  robbers.





BLADE  CAVE

I was suffering a surfeit of testosterone.  We were midway  through a 3 
month expedition to explore the massive Sistema Huautla, the multi  entranced 
deepest cave in the western hemisphere, at one time 13th deepest in  the 
world.  We had rented 2 rock houses in the miniscule pueblo of San  Augustin, a 
collection of perhaps a dozen 2 story homes, a one room school, a  
basketball court and a jail cell in the basement of the municipal  building.  
Between 
the cobblestone dead end road and the buildings all  the flat land was 
taken.  Subsistence farming took place on the 45 degree  angle hillsides that 
formed enormous sinkholes or dolinas funneling the wet  season floods into the 
cave system, both carving it out and scouring it  slick.  Where the 
hillsides steepened into cliffs, small boys herded  goats looking for 
vegetation or 
gathered twigs for cooking fires.  The  village had no electricity, running 
water was a much repaired plastic pipe  that snaked from miles away and 
dripped steadily over by the basketball  court.  Our 4wd schoolbus and assorted 
Toyota trucks filled to the brim  with cavers and caving gear were the only 
vehicles to bump down this  road.  Once a week, a bus careened past the 
intersection of the cobbled  turnoff, heading even deeper into the mountains of 
Oaxaca, Mexico;   occasionally a pipe bed cargo truck could be flagged down 
for a scary ride on  the one laned s curved dirt road.  Burros carried 
everything else that  came in or out. 



The village had no sanitation facilities,  using the flat ground that 
doubled as main street.  We hacked steps into  the clay cliff behind the house 
and constructed a marginal out  house.


The inhabitants of San Agustin vied to surrender their homes  to us for the 
wealth of rent money, so we had a fieldhouse kitchen on the main  floor, 
with propane stoves, pallets of canned and freeze dried food, cartons  of 
local beer, whatever wilted produce and flats of eggs that were available  in 
the market town of Huautla, about an hour away on foot or by grinding  
jouncing low gear in the trucks.  The downstairs also housed duffel bags  of 
rope, 
the cave required thousands of feet, surveying and mapping gear,  barrels of 
carbide to power our acetylene gas caving lamps, kerosene lanterns,  well 
hidden explosives for enlarging recalcitrant rock passages, digging  tools, 
helmets, rock climbing equipment, a rescue stretcher, first aid  supplies and 
anything else we could imagine might be required.

Upstairs  11 men, my partner and myself staked out sleeping bag sized 
living areas in  what was the family's corn loft.  Upstairs and down was shared 
with rats,  fleas, village dogs and cats. At night the room was a cacophony 
of belches,  farts, and snores.  The villagers went to bed at dark and got up 
an hour  or so before dawn.  All night every night was punctuated by 
crowing,  braying, barking and wailing of the assorted populace.  I was in the  
constant company of men who were eating drinking and expending massive  
calories, who had last bathed 6 weeks ago, and for whom delicacy of feeling or  
conversation was not a priority.

So that morning when a firsttimer  asked if he could join me and Mark on a 
day hike to an entrance Mark had found  previously - I snapped No, go find 
your own cave.  And much to all of our  amazement Frank did.


Mexico has some of the richest karst regions  of the world.  The massive 
bedded limestone has solutioned over the  millennia into vast underground 
networks of huge passages and black  rivers.  These cave systems compete with 
the known depths and  complexities of Europe's best, the caves of the Pyrenees 
and those of the  Ural  mountains, with a bonus.  The tropical temperatures 
of Mexico  made exploration far easier and far less life threatening.  And 
the North  American cavers had them all to theirselves.  In the '60's a 
motley crew  of college students from around Texas began to take their vacation 
breaks in  Mexico, venturing as far as trains and 3rd class buses could take 
them, to  stand on the edges of breathtaking pits far out in the jungle, to 
come home  with stories that could hardly be credited.  The caving fever 
took hold  of these few and those who listened to their stories.  Communal 
housing  was established, old buses and power wagons purchased, group forays 
were made  deeper and further into the mountains, always coming back with more 
 extravagant finds.   Deeper pits, more entrances, big black  beckoning 
wilderness all in the matrix of an intoxicatingly foreign landscape  and 
culture where the dollar went a long ways for these underemployed  students. 
In the land rush to explore this vast underground  wilderness fiefdoms were 
gradually established, loose affiliations of  cavestruck dreamers who 
cooperated somewhat and competed more for longest,  deepest.  Against this 
backdrop, one group had instituted a policy of  hammering a small metal tag at 
the 
entrance of each cave they explored.   Nominally the numbers on this tag 
were meant to let others know that the cave  had been surveyed and mapped, the 
data to be shared, not to waste your time  here, to go on to the next 
undiscovered cave.  Effectively, the data was  back in Austin, often released 
reluctantly and worst case, cave entrances were  sometimes marked for future 
reference without ever being entered - a sort of  finders claim.  I had 
decried this policy for a number of reasons: the  attempted ownership of areas, 
and the dismissive attitude of explorers toward  a cave thus marked.  Despite 
the sure knowledge that there were often  overlooked passages and leads 
there was an obsession by cavers  who  wanted to be the first into a cave, some 
special status conferred on the one  who 'scooped booty' as running headlong 
down virgin passage was called.   Our group didn't use the tag system.

So it was on this spring day in  1987, that Frank went out from San 
Agustin, wandered around the mountains  until he found an entrance, and 
explored it 
on his own, never quessing that  the cave was well known, had been mapped 
and was considered to be  'done'.

When he reached the back of the two medium sized rooms, he  poked into a 
crawlspace following the air, that breath that the cave breathes,  exchanging 
its volume of space each day with the outside world: one long  inhale, then 
an exhale.  Here the ceiling dipped down near the floor,  compressing the 
air and making its flow more powerful.  After wriggling  for a body length or 
so, Frank came out into a room where he could stand up  and he must surely 
have gasped at what his light picked out.  Everywhere  he turned, there was a 
jumble of sophisticated pots.  A far alcove looked  like a dish drainer, 
dozens of pots stacked atop one another and glistening  with calcite deposits 
indicating that they had been here for a very long  time.  The floor was 
littered with finely worked beads.  The center  of the room had a single oblong 
rock oddly alone on the sandy floor.  And  on the rock was a 6 inch 
obsidian blade.  Alongside it was another longer  blade.  A human skull lay 
there 
as well and all about the skull were the  tiny squares of turquoise tile that 
had once decorated it.

He came back  to the fieldhouse, bubbling with excitement, which was 
contagious.  All  plans were set aside the next day and all of us in camp, 
followed him to the  cave.  We explored in amazement, poking into corners and 
exclaiming over  new treasures.  Very few of the caves in this region were so 
amenable to  human access.  Most had entrance drops over 60 feet in depth and 
took  such vast quantities of water in the rainy season that there was rarely 
any  gravel, much less a stash of antiquities.  Despite the suspicions of 
the  locals that we must be after gold or uranium or treasure, this was in 
fact the  first place we had found anything other than rock and water.

For  several days  there was no activity other than admiring Blade Cave as 
it  was promptly named.  Photography, speculation, and solemn agreements all 
 around not to divulge the secret outside of the group.  There was no  
consideration of taking anything.  One of the strongest taboos in caving  is 
taking anything from a cave.  And the taboo is enforced with the tacit  
understanding that anyone who broke it would be kicked out of the group.   It 
was a 
powerful threat. 

What happened next was  worse.

Some months after the expedition had returned to the States, we  received a 
formal note from the wife of one of the explorers.  She was an  archaeology 
student and had found the perfect thesis.  Without consulting  any of the 
rest of the group, she and her husband had returned to Mexico, had  gotten in 
touch with the authorities in Oaxaca City, had taken them to the  cave and 
all the material that could be, had been removed from the site.   According 
to the authorities, it was stored in the basement of the government  museum. 
 I'll bet the items hit the black market before the end of the  day and are 
now displayed in the home of a smug collector.  A gate was  constructed in 
the tiny crawlspace to prevent looting - unofficial looting -  of the pots 
that had been cemented in place.


A thesis sits in a library somewhere unread,  surrounded by hundreds of 
similar ones; a collector gratifies his ego; an  official pockets a payoff;  a 
sacred site undisturbed for centuries, is  ransacked; and a little more 
mystery and wonder vanishes from the  world.
















Reply via email to