Caving In Northern Spain

by Sean McLachlan on


After living a year in Santander in Cantabria, northern Spain, I had a problem. I was chronically, unutterably, and perhaps terminally bored. Santander is a sleepy regional town, and while weekend hikes and trips for Gadling helped ease my boredom somewhat, I was still not getting my drug of choice – a long-term, low-level adrenaline high.

There’s nothing like it. Do something captivating and somewhat perilous for a period of a few hours to a few weeks and you’ll feel more alive than any amount of booze or drugs can ever make you. My trips to Iraq and Somaliland were two of the biggest benders of my life, but they also came with a bad case of withdrawal. So, at age 43 in a town I didn’t like, I needed to find a regular adrenaline fix.

How about learning an extreme sport in a foreign language with a bunch of people half my age?

Yeah, that should work.

Cantabria is one of the best regions in Europe for caving, and luckily the Federación Cántabra de Espeleología offers annual classes. I already had some experience caving in Missouri and New Mexico, but that was 15 years ago. Plus techniques are somewhat different in Europe and technology has changed over time. So I took a beginners’ class. This is not the sort of sport where you exaggerate your ability. That could land you in serious trouble.

%Gallery-181190%The course started off with a series of lectures that provided me a long list of Spanish words I hadn’t picked up making the rounds in bars. This was followed by a practical class at an abandoned quarry. While most of my fellow students were from the local university, I was glad to see a couple of others who looked like they knew what it was like to have kids instead of just be one.

We spent all day learning to ascend and descend. Unlike rock climbing, the point isn’t to take the most challenging way up a cliff, but rather get up there as easily as possible in order to save energy for exploring the cave. You wear a harness similar to a climbing harness. For ascending, you tie into the rope with a Croll, which has a blocking device that allows you to go up the rope but stops you from moving down. Another device that locks into the rope is called a puño (fist) and has a strap with a loop that goes around your foot. The puño has a blocking device like the Croll and you move up the cliff by doing a series of one-legged deep-knee bends, worming your way up the rope like a caterpillar.

For descending you switch to an locking pulley called a Stop that allows you to safely rappel down. Switching from ascent to descent requires securing yourself with the aid of two carabiners on ropes tied to your harness and making sure you disengage and secure the equipment in the proper order.

Beginners at a sport always expend far more energy than they need to. I was no exception. Once I got to the top of the quarry wall for the first time, I started switching over from my ascending gear and securing my Stop so I could descend. Each step is safe if you do it right, because at least two devices are securing you to the rope or wall protection at any time. Despite this, my mind was still in rock climber mode and I was trying to do it all with one hand as my other hand gripped a ledge. One foot was on a good hold and the other had a halfway decent smear.

This, of course, was entirely pointless since I was properly secured through my gear. Just then one of the instructors popped his head over the cliff top.

“Why are you hanging on?” he asked.

I didn’t have an answer for him.

“Let go,” he told me.

I let go.

“Now hang there for a minute.”

OK, lesson learned. I got back to work.

“It’s easier with two hands, isn’t it?” he said.

We finished the day worn out but successful. The class all made it through the techniques without injury, even that older foreign guy who made everything more difficult for himself.

Now came the real test: Cañuela Cave in the beautiful Sierra de Cantabria. Our instructors were easy on us and picked a cave with little technical work. The entrance is like an airplane hanger, a huge hole in the hillside sloping into darkness. Not far in, the tunnel starts to narrow and the floor gives out. The only way to continue is along a rounded hump that slopes off at a steep angle to the jagged rocks below. A rope is secured along it and by tying in with the carabiners attached by short ropes to our harness we were able to traverse this pretty quickly.

Now all daylight was behind us and we started to see rock formations such as stalactites, stalagmites, curtains and more. The route opened up into echoing galleries and then narrowed down into smaller rooms. One room was nearly circular and fringed with stalactites reaching almost to the ground, making it look like a giant petrified birdcage.

A bit beyond, we had to use the Stop to descend a cliff. A second, deeper one came later. I couldn’t see the bottom from my vantage point. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m scared of heights. All through university I went rock climbing in order to conquer my fear. I never did; I only learned to ignore it and get on with what I was doing. Discovering that you can live with the source of your fear without being affected by it was the most important thing I learned in university.

I thought I may have trouble with caving, but it turned out I didn’t. At the quarry I was too busy fiddling with the new equipment to even notice. In the cave, not being able to see the bottom made going over the edge easier somehow. No, that doesn’t make any sense – phobias never do.

More wonders followed: a lone bat clinging upside down to a rock, stalactites formed at an angle because of air currents, fossils stuck into the wall. Check out the gallery for just a small selection, and stay tuned for more underground adrenaline highs. I’ll be going into more detail about the world underneath our feet and the sport that helps you explore it.

[Top photo by Sean McLachlan. Bottom photo of yours truly wearing his helmet at a rakish angle taken by Dani “that guy in the caving class whose last name I should have learned.”]

Video: Kayaking Down Waterfall

by Elizabeth Seward on

Kayaking is an activity I find to be largely leisurely. I might once in a while push myself a little harder than usual while kayaking. I might even break a sweat. But I certainly don’t ever kayak down a waterfall. Perhaps I’d try it if I felt mostly safe, but what these guys are doing in the above video doesn’t strike me as remotely “safe” – although I’m sure they’re taking all kinds of precautions. It sure is fun to watch, though. This video is shot and edited well. I found it on the Eddie Bauer Vimeo page, which appears to have zero traffic, more or less. Despite the lack of promotion, this video is both informative and inspiring. Kudos to these kayakers – I envy their apparent disregard for death.

Video: Skydiving accident uncut (graphic)

by Elizabeth Seward on

Like most other people out there, I was nervous before I went skydiving for the first time. That whole ‘jumping out of a plane thousands of feet above land’ thing kind of got under my skin. Every jumper’s worst nightmare is to be involved in a skydiving accident, but those fears are usually brushed off by other people’s reassurances of, “Dude, that never happens”. But sometimes it does.

Chris Colwell’s first-hand helmet video of his own skydiving accident that left him quadriplegic made me cry the first time I saw it. And then I cried again the second time I saw it. It’s hard not to be hit with difficult-to-handle emotions when you watch this video. It is tragic. But Chris’ attitude post-accident is admirable. He remains positive to this day and has a YouTube channel worth checking out.

WARNING: This video is not easy to watch and it may contain content not appropriate for children.

Human castles may make UNESCO World Heritage list

by Sean McLachlan on

You gotta love Spain. Not only do they like having giant tomato fights and getting chased through the streets by bulls, but they build giant castles out of people.

That’s right. Not content with having some of the best castles in Europe, the Spaniards like constructing living towers up to ten people high. Called a castell, the tradition originated in the region of Catalonia in the 18th century.

A bunch of strong, big castellars make up the pinya (base) and support their teammates as they create level upon level with progressively fewer (and lighter) people. Once a level is complete, the people who make up the next one climb up the backs of the others and take their place. Then the top person, called an enxaneta (rider) climbs all the way to the very top and, supported by only two people, raises a hand with four fingers up to symbolize the Catalan flag. The enxaneta and the very top levels are often made up of children to lighten the load on the bottom levels. Then the castell disassembles itself from the top down by each level climbing back to the ground. Only when everyone is safely back on the ground is the castell considered a success.

It’s an unusual tradition and now the castellars are applying to get their art on UNESCO’s list of “intangible world heritage”. The list includes examples of rare cultural practices that are relatively unknown and unpracticed outside a certain region. Check out the website for more bizarre and amazing practices around the world.

Gadling goes Zorbing

by Grant Martin on

We’ve written about Zorbing a few times at Gadling, the crazy extreme sport where you jump inside of an enomous plastic ball and bounce around as it rolls down a hill. Think of yourself as the rodent inside of a giant, cushioned hamster ball. It’s hard to resist.

Various iterations of the sport have been around for a few years now, including an official franchise in Tennessee and a whole host of copycats, but the technology was born in Rotorua, New Zealand, a small, adventure-centric town three hours south of Auckland.

Here, you can get your Zorb in a few different flavors: alone, with water, with a friend, down a zig zag path, or combinations therein. Since I was with another guy and wanted the “ultimate experience,” I chose to take the zig zag path with water.

So what’s it like?

Well, at the bottom of the hill you first change into swim trunks, then they shuttle you to the top and you jump in line. Once it’s your turn, they ask if you want water (highly recommended) then they toss a bucket full of warm water into the waiting Zorb. Draping a slippery rug into the entry, the attendant asks you to dive in, then they zip closed the inner sphere. On three, you kick back towards the bottom of the hill, and off you go.

The whole thing lasts about 45 seconds, but it’s the most disorienting, wonderful, happy experience of your life. The Zorb spins below you as you try to maintain some sense of location and focus, then as it changes directions you bounce back and forth inside of the inner sphere. It’s fun in a wholly wild, new way.

Worth the $35 to ride? Sure, at least once. Check out a video of the experience after the jump.