Down the Rabibt Hole

The following is a cross post from another blog I keep. It was written two years ago, before a global pandemic drained the spunk from humanity. But it' a logical place to start. As my Grandfather use to say '.. it's as good as Kansas. Everyone comes from somewhere'

One mild Saturday morning some four years ago, I found myself a hundred feet underground, watching two of my children scramble over a rather large rhyolite boulder that’d been heated to near glass on one side by what was once a living river of basalt. I ran my hands through my sweat soaked hair, readjusted the lamp embedded in my sand encrusted forehead and bent in for a closer look at the mess of stone in front of me. Through a vine-like fracture in the wall, irregular wrinkles of basalt gave way to glimpses of crimson river clay, petrified by a that stone inferno, showcasing more energy & violence than seemed possible right then. The contrasting rock that comprised this speckle-spattered rubble reminded me of the grey encroaching on my temples as my knees poignantly reminded me that clearly I am not getting any younger.

My nephew, ever curious, turned my attention as he painted the crusted walls with echoes of enthusiasm, belting questions at me that moved from quaintly basic to remarkably interesting in rapid fire. I envied his innocent fascination with every shape and texture new to his young mind. Every rock must have a story, every shadow must be a passage; every fleeting possibility must be inspected as his mind conspired to perceptive order in the natural chaos around us. When do we lose this ability to find inspiration and awe? Do we surrender it with age or loose it along the tightrope of responsibility? None of my quiet replies offer comfort or affirmation, but his inquiries, innocent and jubilant, sank into my thoughts deeply, twisting some scared over dark lump in my mind. Had it been so long that I could not relate?

After a short hike across a broken section of cave floor, we stopped for a moment atop a boulder the size of a small house and turned off the lights, as is instinctive with any group of people that willingly walk into a cave. In that moment, I was left in the thick, humid chilling dark with my own thoughts, deprived of only but the most basic senses. Aware only of a small cut on my leg, the cold, damp stone under me that seemed to bare a sort of coarsely braided texture and what must have been the muffled breath of my comrades, my disposition tried to wander. Whispers of unwelcome murmured by that unknown and unseen chasm beyond us met me and for a moment, my nerves rang with panic. I was surprised when, unprompted by any resolution of my own, I pushed back against the dank breath of the darkness, muting fear with warm satisfaction and the glowing pride in accomplishing well-executed adventure; I had no need to cower or play to the second-guessing myself that has plagued me into inaction my entire life. Confident in my purpose for the first time since my marriage I prompted my crew of adventurers onward, over, through, farther and deeper into the workings of the old volcano, our lights darting across the rock face like so many over-sized fireflies giving chase down a rabbit hole.

My nephew found a crawl the big kids couldn’t reach, and I lost track of his light for a split second. As I called for him, his voice came to me instantly in reverberation: “...do you guys do this all the time?” No, not nearly as often as I’d like - and not nearly as much as I use to. This was not my first venture down a lava tube and every part of me prayed in earnest that this would not be the last. I looked over at my brother and saw his face lit with a genuine expression of joy that I'd not seen since we were teenagers. No, this needed to be a beginning, not a last gasp guided tour offered by a burnt-out half-something nearing the end of his useful duty cycle. If not for me, then for him and the kids.

Looking back further, my trips to the woods ended shortly after the tumultuous events of 2009, leaving a gap in me that I'd simply plastered over. I lost the friends and family that were my wanderlust co-conspirators, leaving me with fewer reasons to run from myself into the nearest thicket of trees as often as I could. Life changes without our consent most of the time, oblivious to our preference for a particular movement or another. In my case I'd been squarely dropped into a wake I could not push against and and for a while the best I could do would amount to little more than treading water in a rising tide of my own making. As I grew in the next few years, I took a chance and wrestled an aggressive hold on a long overdue growth spurt and left much of my personal baggage to the wayside. Successes and failures alike would follow, with the prior taking an increasing slant in the tally, opening the world to me as I knew it in that moment, deep under a cast forest on the side of a napping volcano. I wanted more and I saw no reason why I shouldn't; no one could accuse me of being off task, off base or embracing the irresponsible. And again, I was surprised when my own rationality shoved me front faced into tracking out my ideas; for once in my adult life, reality was not a joy-kill.

If I'm going to flirt with ideas and hobbies long buried, it's best have a clear plan; the past is just as dead and gone as the person I was when I walked through them. 

Tired, sore and gratified I started planning our next trip while driving home. I had no idea that the year I spent planning up to its completion would prove to be a pivotal event in my life. As I weeded though the needed research, a strange foothold developed in my mind. And as the months rolled by, what had always been a passing curiosity with the realm of Earth sciences quickly moved from fascination to something of an obsession. My plan to guide a group of friends and family on an exciting and unusual outing took me from wading in the secretive, clannish, hidden world of caving into the deeper, wider study of such matters. And with a surprisingly relentless tenacity, I discovered that I had become quite adept at fitting the pieces together to find places that few have been, fewer can find and almost no one talks about openly. Before long, a waking dormant part of me absolutely needed to know all there was to know, needed to continue learning and gathering to whatever end it might find. At long last, I'd stoked the very same burning curiosity and drive to quench it that so moved me in my nephew's youthful glee.

Yes, the next trip would be off the pavement, past the markers and would exercise nearly every skill I had as an experienced outdoorsman. Beyond that, I would clearly need formal training in geology. Maybe even a degree. And with that, my choice was made.

Hello, my name is Zach and I am 44 years old and I am about to change, again. There comes a point in the life of an under achiever that needs pushing past, even if one needs to trash wildly and look like a jack ass whilst making up for lost time. An intersection of sorts where one sees documentaries and amateurish research projects as the mute, limited groping of the armchair-adventurous and willfully ignorant that they are, regardless of desire or intent. That graph must be fixed. As I declared a major of geology today, a returning student and professionally indecisive explorer, I've finally decided (with the blessing of my ever-supporting wife) to pare down what my interest are, where they have taken me and how I can apply the many fields of dabbling that has dominated my adult life in a worthwhile manner. From this alchemy of experience & curiosity, I plan to remake myself and purge much of what I've not had much benefit from.

But there is still one catch that holds me back in more ways that I'd ever realized; the comfort and complacency afforded by the life of an electrician turned cubicle mouse has made me soft, fat and woefully unable to keep up. I make no illusions for myself in this regard. The words above can be reorganized as a fairly ambitious laundry list of accomplishments yet to be realized. But it needs to start with me and how I take care of myself, not for only for the sake of my interests and hobbies, but as a matter of the longevity of a father, husband and provider for my family first and foremost. There is truly no downside... in the mind's eye, that is. My flesh on the other hand, well, it's scared a the prospect.

I am the Fat Man Caving and the posts that follow will document how I will accomplish these goals and experience new adventures with my friends and family. But first, I must fix that annoying 'fat' part if any of this is going to work... 

Two of my sons during our first trip to Ape & Lake Caves. Picture by Mat Botsford.

#caving #keto #fatmancaving #midlifediet #deadcanarycaving #mtsthellens #lavatube #lowcarb