Hell Hole. One of the most wicked caves in the world to explore. Located in Santa Cruz, California, a trek through this pitch-black claustrophobic nightmare consisted of impossibly narrow passageways, dizzying vertical descents and deadly drops everywhere. And that’s why I loved it. The caving, or spelunking, community was small, but tightly knit and craved these death-defying adventures. Why did we do it? Some people loved being able to “get away from it all” and that was true; when you’re 100 feet underground, you may as well be on a different planet. But for me, it was the adrenaline rush. So, when my childhood friend, and fellow caver, Zeke, told me he’d found an entirely new cave while camping, just a stone’s throw away from Hell Hole, I couldn’t book my flight fast enough.
I arrived at the Wilder Ranch State Park and pulled up next to Zeke’s car. I stepped out of my car and approached Zeke, who was grabbing gear from his trunk. There was someone with him I didn’t recognize. He was tall but slim and was bald with striking grey eyes.
“Jack!” Zeke said to me, then glanced over at the man. “This is Günther. I met him when I went to Oktoberfest. He’s caved all over Europe. He’s here on vacation and wanted to join us.”
“Cool,” I said, shaking Günther’s hand. He nodded at me.
“Nice to meet you,” he said in a thick German accent.
“Kyle coming?” I asked. Zeke shook his head.
“Flight cancelled due to bad weather. He’s stuck in Canada. Might be a couple days. He’s pissed.”
After exchanging pleasantries, we headed towards the cave, directly opposite the direction of where Hell Hole was. About ten minutes later, we arrived at a rock covered hole behind a bush.
“I didn’t want anyone else to accidentally find it and fall in, so I covered the entrance up,” Zeke said, pulling the rocks away.
The entrance was about the size of a manhole covering. I shined my light into it and saw that it was a ten-foot drop right off the bat.
“Did you explore any?” Günther asked Zeke.
“Just a little. There’s a slight downwards sloping birth canal right away, probably 100 feet. There are one or two cracks with light on the way down. It opens into a small room, but it’s pitch black and that’s where I had to turn around because I didn’t have a headlamp.”
“Okay, let’s double check our gear and head in,” I said.
Our gear consisted of special hard hats with LED headlamps, back-up flashlights, glowsticks, various tools, ropes, a first aid kit, some snacks and water. We were also wearing flexible grippy climbing boots, grippy climbing gloves and knee and elbow pads. No phones, because once you were under, there would be no signal. Zeke also had a GoPro to document the excursion.
“So, it’s supposed to start raining around 2pm and this cave will definitely flood. So, we have a hard return time of noon. No point in risking it. And that still gives us about six hours in there. Besides, we’ll be here for the next four days. No need to go crazy on the first,” I said. Everyone nodded. Zeke pulled his GoPro off his hard hat and tapped it.
“Dammit! I forgot to change the battery,” he swore. He rifled through his bag and then sighed.
“I left the spare in the car. Y’all go on ahead and get through the birth canal, I’ll catch up to you.”
Before we could argue he took off. Günther and I exchanged looks.
“Should we wait?” he asked. I shook my head.
“Nah, let’s get in there. I’m dying to see it. We’ll just wait in the room after the birth canal.”
