27: What Lies Beneath?

Mill Creek Cave near Blacksburg, Virginia

B L A C K S B U R G,  V A

I’m following the State of Virginia’s Karst Protection Coordinator up a steep mountainside slope toward a cave opening.  Wil Orndorff is also Virginia’s number one cave expert.  We’re getting closer, but I see nothing that qualifies as an opening big enough for two six-foot-tall, slender and graying guys to slip through.  Wil stops when we reach a granite wall.  We can go no further.  He kicks dead leaves and fallen branches away from a hole in the ground about the width of a five gallon bucket. 

About a month ago Wil asked if I wanted to go underground during our tour of Mill Creek Springs Natural Area Preserve, the first of four private preserves I’ll be visiting during my sabbatical - all others will be publicly accessible.  It took about three weeks to respond to his question.  I have never been caving and wasn’t sure how I would respond to the claustrophobic conditions or how well it would be received when I told Allison she’d have to wait alone in the woods while the boys played underground.  But this was an amazing opportunity, and having recently lost out on a similarly amazing guided tour of Nassawango Creek, I didn’t want to pass it up.  Ultimately, I agreed to the cave tour.

“What is it in man that for a long while lies unknown and unseen only one day to emerge and push him into a new land of the eye, a new region of the mind, a place he has never dreamed of?”

From Blue Highways by William Least Heat-Moon

Staring at the five gallon bucket as Wil explains the contortions we’ll have to go through to slip into the cave is an eye-opener, but I stay surprisingly calm and confident.  He leads the way going feet-first into the unknown making it look easy despite the very tight squeeze.  The pony tail sticking out from his helmet is the last bit of him to disappear from sight.  When it’s my turn, I plop down in the dirt, stick my feet into the dark hole, and begin mimicking the moves Wil just showed me.  He guides the placement of my feet as they poke into the darkness.  I’m immediately covered in mud and glad I followed Wil’s advice to wear disposable clothing.  As I slide through the hole, my claustrophobic fears are immediately allayed.  We enter a wide open chasm.  At the bottom is a knee-deep stream that will serve as our pathway for the next half hour.  I lose my footing in the dark slick steepness and slide on my ass down to the stream’s edge.  It’s quite the grand entrance.  My ego is bruised but I’m ready to explore.

Knowing I’d be spending time in a cave with such an expert was both a blessing and a challenge.  A blessing in that my Nature Conservancy (TNC) connections have once again paid big dividends.  How else could a lowly citizen like I ever have arranged such a state-sponsored tour without connections?  Folks from TNC have told me this many times: we like taking care of our volunteers.  Their help in arranging this tour of Mill Creek Springs is a clearly strong example of putting those words into action.

The cave tour also posed a challenge beyond just my claustrophobia.  I felt compelled to prepare for intelligent conversations with Wil.  I wanted to learn as much as possible about this property and its cave beforehand so that our conversations could start out at a higher level and ultimately lead to a gleaning of deeper knowledge about this wonderful place.  For several nights leading up to today, I scoured the internet in search of Mill Creek Springs Natural Area Preserve, and more importantly, all-things-spelunky. 

Wil leads us upstream pointing out many interesting characteristics about this cave as we go.  The water we are walking in has been thieved from the Gulf of Mexico.  On the other side of the mountain this underground creek is cutting through is the higher-elevated New River which drains into the Gulf.  A crack in that watershed and a little gravity has pulled the water through this cave and into the Atlantic watershed. 

He also points to a cluster of bat bones and explains that White Nose Syndrome sadly is wiping out the bat populations in this part of the country.  It’s a vicious disease with a kill rate of 90% once it infects a hibernaculum. 

We reach a spot in the stream which fans out into a deep pool.  “The water’s about nut high” says Wil.  He assumes I don’t want to go deeper into the cold, crouch-high water and he’s right.  On our return, he spots a nearly translucent six inch salamander.  It’s blinded by our headlamps.  I move in close with my macro camera lens.  The salamander stays motionless in hopes that I’ll go away.  We pass several odd shaped calcium deposits growing on the walls of the cave that glisten in the artificial light.  When I look up, I see stalactites hanging from the ceiling.  I’m instructed not to touch either; the oils from my hands will cause damage. 

Back near the entrance, he shows me where the creek slips under some rocks into a pool before bursting out through the side of the mountain where Allison is waiting.  Later tonight, Wil and his cave buddies are coming back to scuba dive in that pool. It amazes me to think of the differences in the careers of Wil and me.  Both college-educated, but my path led to a nine-to-five florescent-lit desk; Wil’s took him underground scuba diving late into the evening in a dark cave. 

When I emerge from the cave I’m smiling and Allison starts snapping pictures.  Her time alone in the woods has come to an end.  She was not mauled by a mountain lion or attacked by some crazed maniac as she feared.  I’m proud of her bravery and her support for me during this wild adventure.  I’m covered in mud - and who knows what else - but this sabbatical, in part, is deliberately about getting dirty in an earthy kind of way.  And what’s earthier than primordial ooze from the inside of a mountain?

At the entrance to the cave is where we part ways with Wil.  He’s got to get back to the office.  State government bureaucracy is calling, perhaps.  I assure him we can retrace the mile-long trek back to our car.  Unfortunately, the gifts I had brought along for him will have to be sent less-personally by U. S. mail.  The gifts will be a mere pittance compared to what he’s given me today. 

It’s a beautiful day in a beautiful place so we take our time leisurely strolling back despite the fact that we’re both quite hungry.  Along the way, the watercress that Wil pointed to on our walk in serves as an appetizer.  Partaking in such a natural snack is primordially delicious.  When it’s time to cross the creek one last time, Allison gingerly hops from rock to rock, but I don’t even attempt to stay dry.  I trudge right in washing a little earthiness and bat shit from my lower half as I splash carelessly through.  It’s another primordially enjoyable feat. 

This adventure below the surface has been incredible.  Wil’s willingness to lead a greenhorn down into such an awesome unknown and share his knowledge is something I’ll always be grateful for.  Had it not been for my TNC connections, attracting Wil’s attention and willingness would likely not have happened.  I’ll also always be grateful for how The Nature Conservancy helped arrange this tour.  They sure do know how to take care of their volunteers.

As I scheduled this sabbatical, I’ve felt much excitement and confidence about the plans I’ve made for all of the other preserves I’d be visiting.  But not here at Mill Creek Springs.  Knowing I’d be squeezing through a small hole into the claustrophobic dark underworld with a complete stranger brought much trepidation.   The unknown had cast a spell on me.  Like so much in our lives, what we don’t know scares us, and that’s precisely how I felt when I arrived here earlier.  But also like so much in our lives, when we accept challenges and conquer our fears, few things feel any better.

LEARN MORE ABOUT TNC's WORK AT THE CAVE HERE. 


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