Rumbling Falls Rumble

 Houston Hardin, Shawn McKee, Roy Andrews, Dale Shearer & Billy Crews

Trip Report by Billy Crews with Special Commentary by Houston Hardin

Here’s where experience pays off:  No, not the kind gets you out of a jam in a cave.  I’m talking about the kind that gets you in the cave.  I think this whole trip goes back to Mac and H. trying to disguise a preemptive strike on an unknown cave system by making it look like a multi-family vacation.  And some way, some how, they did just that.  It was the week following New Years’ when the bulk of the SC gang, along with their families, would take over the cabin area of Fall Creek Falls State Park.  By Friday, the 5th, and coming in from all points of the compass, there would be nearly forty folks showing up for the weekend - husbands, wives and kids were all over the place.  The shared Hardin - Crews cabin was central to the group’s “base camp” and on Friday evening Kay and I did the “Southern Louisiana hospitality” thing of preparing a jambalaya and white beans combo dinner.  It would be remiss of me to not say that I managed to go behind my wife’s portion of the meal and burn the white beans - husbands...?  How do our wives manage with us is probably their big question.

As this was a family trip, the weekend’s main event was to be a total family outing into Camp’s Gulf Caverns.  Quite a few of us SCers had already made multiple trips into the cave and we felt confident in being able to lead the family in and show them what they’re missing from on the Earth’s surface.  But that was Saturday’s plans - and this was Friday night.  After all were fed and the cabin cleaned of a post-mass meal, our core of five slipped away to grab a stash of gear.  Most of the wives were in bed, or close to it, and I imagined they all got the same story that I told Kay.  Basically we were going to check a cave system that was located just outside the park.  I rationalized the time needed to get on location, find the cave, duck in and out, and slip back in bed, which should be no later than 2:AM.  That is what I told Kay, anyway.


By 10:PM we had all convened in front of the cabin and proceeded to load up Roy's truck with a minimum amount of gear.  As we made our way through the cold, dark night, I began going over the notes I had amassed in the last few weeks.  I had done quite a bit of research on the PC and had consolidated the three or four trip reports that I felt offered valid beta.  This I coupled along with H.’s map:  Houston had managed to get a couple of pages of beta from an old caving buddy who had visited Rumbling Falls about five years prior.  While the map was both narrative and illustrative in nature, what I found most unique was that it had been mailed out of a Federal penitentiary.  It seems H.’s caving buddy was working off a few issues with the Feds... I was surprised that H. actually got the information, though.  Usually, prisoner out-going mail is inspected or censored - I was really curious how something that resembled an “escape plan” could get sent through the mail, having originated from the Federal Penal system.


With Roy driving, we made our way out of the park and through the winding hills with me barking the route as I studied my notes.  Within about twenty minutes we we’re parked on the roadside and searching for an obvious trail that would lead us to the cave.  Needless to say, after about an hour of searching the frozen woods we concluded that I had us parked on the wrong bend in the road.  Giving up on that hill side, we all climbed back in the truck for a “do over”.  About half of a mile further down the road we finally found the abandoned quarry that would serve as our vehicle’s hiding place:  H.’s friend had warned us not to be to visible to passer-bys on the road.  Just up the mountain a piece was the town of Spencer.  The town, in an attempt to build a new sewer treatment facility, had been the victim of an injunction at the behest of cavers and conservationists.  It was the general consensus of the caving community, and the local legal jurisdiction, that the new sewer treatment facility would prove to be disastrous to the Rumbling Falls Cavern’s ecosystem.  Needless to say, we had been warned of Spencer’s dislike for underground adventurers.  In other words, we were not to park a vehicle to where some type of grotto or bat sticker could be seen.  You might exit the cave to find your car or truck sans glass.

Roy, heeding the warning, tucked the truck into the rear of the quarry and within five minutes we were all on the other side of the road and looking, again, for the “obvious trail”.  And we found it!  And just a few minutes later we had found the caves opening.  Rumbling Falls was not like any cave I had visited before.  The “entrance” was a mere pocket in the hill side, being only about thirty feet deep.  Towards the rear of the pocket, however, was the real entrance: A pit that resembled a crack in the floor of the entrance.  The crack was about five feet or so across the middle, but widened as it went to the back wall.  Lying across the pit were several logs, obviously placed there by cavers preceding us. I was optimistic about getting in the cave; I was looking forward to the cave’s thermocline which would be warmer than the night air that was hovering in the mid thirties.  But it wasn’t meant to be:  The cave’s entrance was too short, so the internals were not felt until you descended the drop-in pit.

Shawn and Roy went to work on securing the rope to the logs while the rest of us were going through the rest of the gear.  This was the same time that H. asked me about my experience as regards pit bouncing.  “Uhm, none.” I confessed... “Never?” he asked... “Nope, not one time...”  Houston gave the matter a little thought, then he told me that in no uncertain terms, that I was not going down.  He was pretty sincere about the situation and was no doubt looking after my welfare.  Additionally it was late, much later than it should of been (and my fault) and I was tired.  Yeah, H. was right.  This wasn’t the time and place to either learn a new technique or suffer a mistake.  I agreed to wait topside and Dale decided he would join me.  Once again, it seems Dale and I would be our own team, as had happened in our first journey into Camp’s and Fitton.

With the pit rigged, it was time for the drop.  Based on what I had told Kay regarding my return time, we were definitely behind the clock.  It was already 1:50AM and I had planned to be back no later than 2:AM.   Noting the time we all agreed to give the cave one hour once the trio was off-rope.  Houston was the last to drop and, after verifying the time, he said he’d see us in one hour, and then disappeared into the pit behind Shawn and Roy.

The entrance pit was about seventy feet deep and we rigged it with the 11mm PMI rope. From the initial rap, we landed in a small, actively flowing stream bed. Heading upstream, we took walking and duck-walking passage, having to climb up two small, ten foot waterfalls, en route. From here the passage got smaller, eventually becoming a "hands and knees" crawl. Roy and Shawn decided to continue pressing ahead while I felt the need to return as it was getting quite late. Leaving Roy and Shawn, I headed back down stream, making it back to the entrance drop about fifteen minutes later and to the smell of smoke. It seemed Dale and Billy had made a fire topside to warm up and the smoke was getting sucked down into the cave somewhat. Rigged in, I ascended without difficulty, despite being cold and tired, and ready to call it a night; but that was not to be. -Houston

The goal for this trip wasn’t just to find the cave entrance; it was a pre-route trip for the Rumble Room itself:  Rumbling Falls cave system, like Camp’s Gulf, contains a huge underground dome, aka the Rumble Room.  With over five acres of space, it’s the center piece of the system.  Unlike Camp’s Gulf, which is a walk in, the Rumble Room can only be accessed from above; in other words, to get to the floor of the Rumble Room, cavers must rap in from the ceiling, which is approximately 200 feet high.  As our fellow cavers searched the cave for the big drop’s anchor station, Dale and I suffered miserably in the near freezing alcove.  I noticed we each tried changing positions, but to no avail.  If you sat on your bottom, the cold floor would suck the heat from your body.  If you crouched on your feet, it was only a matter of time before your legs would cramp up.  This was not a good time.  And it was about to get worse.
We tried making a fire, but it was a paltry little thing.  All the small kindling that we scrounged from around the mouth of the cave was damp from the night’s frost.  We finally got it going but what it lacked in flame and heat it more than made up for in smoke.  The smoke hung around, began to fill the small entrance chamber and was then sucked into the pit.  The smut -pot of a fire finally died and it wasn’t much longer before we heard some gear clanking around followed by a shout of “On rope!”  Finally!  Dale and I were pretty frozen but we new we’d be back in the truck before much longer.  To our dismay, however, Houston had ascended solo, as Roy and Shawn decided to push for the anchor point on the big drop.  What the hell?  This was not the plan...


Houston explained that he noted they had pushed the trail in one direction for about half of an hour, which, according to the plan, was the turn around point:  Half an hour in, half an hour out.
The three of us now on the topside were pretty pissed about the situation, but were all too cold to want to debate it any further in the freezing night air.  We got the rest of our gear together, leaving only the rope still tethered to the anchor-trees and Roy and Shawn’s packs, and headed back to the truck.  Dale got in, cranked it up to get the heat going and we wasn’t long before we all began thawing out.


It would be nearly 4:30AM when we finally saw a pair of headlights bouncing toward the truck.  As Shawn & Roy began to de-gear, I started my short, angered rant about the agreed upon turn around/exit times.  I was severely pissed, but mostly at myself for even attempting such a late night cave commando.  We all got back in the truck and that was when H. exploded.  I guess he was going to be in the same spousal distress on his return as I was.  Needless to say, we had it going pretty good on the ride back to the cabin.
We finally arrived back at the cabins, shortly before 5:AM.  Cooler heads had prevailed and we all went our separate ways - I wondered to myself if my fate would be any less or greater than the others.  As I slipped into bed, Kay never stirred, yet, I would enjoy no more than about three hours of sleep before finding my Saturday morning cup of coffee.  Houston finally stirred and we both made quiet small talk as the cabin started coming to life.  Later in the morning, the entire compound began gearing up for a massive assault by a lot of first-time cavers on the Camp’s Gulf caverns.  Me?  I decided I was too tired to cave anymore and managed a quiet day of cabin sitting....