🚀 go-pugleaf

	THE GLOW WORM CAVES OF WAITOMO

The Kiwi Safari bus turned in at the driveway of our
hostel.  The bus driver stepped out and trotted to the 
courtyard where my wife and I awaited.  We carted our bags 
to the bright little green and white bus, selected our 
seats, and sat for what would be a three hour drive to 
Waitomo.  The bus began to lumber away from Auckland, the 
major metropolitan center of New Zealand, with a roar and 
sputter.  The scenery outside our windows changed from city 
to country and little dairies dotted the rural roadside 
every few kilometers.  The beauty of New Zealand unfolded 
before us as we watched the forest stands of trees and ferns 
repeatedly engulf and then recede from us in harmony with 
grass farms and ranches.

	After a lulling ride through this carpet land of green, 
our bus slowed to a crawl to turn on to a small ribbon of a 
road.  A sign on the roadside announced that we were eight 
kilometers away from the Waitomo Museum of Caves & 
Information Center.  The bus engine gasped as the road began 
to climb, and the passengers all started to stir as the 
hypnotic trance of the countryside gave way to the 
excitement of the destination.  The road continued to 
steepen, and the bus to shudder, gasp, and heave forward 
with a raging roar.  We reached a crest and started to 
descend into a mountain hollow, the bus driver making 
evident his skill as a bobsledder and the passengers theirs 
as adrenaline jockeys.  The bus rounded one final rock 
outcrop, shrieked a few hundred meters, and lurched to a 
stop.  The bus doors cracked open and the driver announced 
our arrival in Waitomo.

	Stepping off the bus we bid adieu to the driver, 
climbed a few stair steps and entered the Waitomo Museum of 
Caves.  After exploring the gift shop we visited the 
reception center to confirm our Black Water Rafting 
reservations, which are required and limited in number.  Our 
reservations confirmed, we were invited to spend the next 
several minutes exploring the museum.  We entered the World 
of Caves Display Hall where several maps exhibited the 
world's "karst" locations, and displayed pictures from the 
caves of these areas.  Karst was defined as land which 
exhibits geological features indicating the existence of 
caves.  The common features of karst were noted to be rivers 
disappearing underground, large springs, sinkholes, isolated 
spire-like hills, limestone or marble formations, hollows 
and basins rather than interconnected valleys.  Many of the 
karst areas identified had corresponding rock specimens 
which the visitors were invited to touch.  Some of the rock 
specimens had the smooth cold feel of marble, others had a 
crumbling soft texture, and Waitomo's own rock specimen had 
a distinctly waxy but coarse abrasive texture.  After 
exhausting the exhibits in this section it was time to 
explore an adjoining display hall identified as the 
Department of Conservation Hall.

	The Conservation Hall contained several interesting
displays related to the the Waitomo caves and their 
formation.  These included information on how the caves 
resulted from the action of acid rain on limestone deposits. 
They described how the acid-rich rain was the result of 
distant volcanic activity over a period of millions of 
years.  There were also fossils of animals and plants found 
in the local rocks.  A cave crawl invited the suitably 
attired adventurer to squeeze through low, narrow crevasses. 
Several films were also available, ranging from the life
cycle of the glow worm to experiences in the Waitomo 
labyrinths.

	Too soon a crackly voice over the public address system 
announced that those registered for the black water rafting 
adventure should proceed to the museum entrance area.  We 
walked to the entrance and found ourselves in a crowd of 
English speaking Germans and Scandinavians.  Within moments 
a V. W. van pulled up in front of the museum and two thin 
muscular men jumped out, climbed the museum steps, and 
shouted for those going on the black water rafting adventure 
to join them.  The small herd encircled the guides in an 
attempt not to miss any little utterance of instruction or 
description.  The guides, after introducing themselves and 
getting everybody in the tour together, instructed the herd 
to follow.  We dutifully did, down the museum steps, across 
the road, over a wooden fence, across a meadow, and finally 
jumping off a small cliff.  We found ourselves in a complex 
which contained a truck trailer full of wetsuits, two large 
communal dressing rooms, two shower buildings, and a large 
kitchen.

	We were led to the back of the truck trailers and each 
given a  wetsuit , a pair of rubber boots, a rubber hood, 
and a knowing smile.  After seeking out the appropriate 
dressing rooms and disrobing we began fighting with our 
wetsuits .  Given several minutes of thrashing about it was 
time to battle with the second leg.  After an energetic 
thirty minute workout we were fully rubber clad.  Now as we 
bounced out of the dressing rooms we were given plump 
polyester pants with a draw string to wear outside of our 
wetsuits .  After donning our polyesters it was time for the 
rappelling harness to be placed over the already fashionable 
combination.  Our guides instructed us in how these 
harnesses should be strapped, and then as to how we had 
erred.  Finally we were led to a large van and given the 
opportunity to "bounce" into it.  After a few minutes of 
entertainment we were all in the van, seated, and toasty 
warm in our rubber skins.

	The guides jumped in the front seats, adjusted their
tee shirts and sun glasses, and started to drive up a long 
narrow dirt road.  About five minutes later the van veered 
to the side of the road and stopped.  The guides jumped out, 
adjusted their visors, and tramped over to the side door to 
let us escape the van.  We waddled to the door and bounded 
out onto a grassy green meadow.  As the last of our group 
escaped the van our guides visited another ten pounds of 
equipment on us, "clip this to your harness."   Not fully 
satisfied with our fashion statements, some of us were 
passed nice heavy ropes, but to do what with?  Well, we 
should have known, across a meadow was a spire-like hill to 
be climbed..  A grazing herd of sheep looked in our 
direction, and  a condescending "not again" could be 
imagined to be rolling off their ruminant tongues.

	Our guides jumped over a barbed wire fence, and issued 
an instruction for us to follow.  Near the top of the hill 
four large wooden posts stood vertically out of the ground. 
Our guides stopped there and waited for all of us to join 
them.  Within a few minutes we, a sweaty rubber clad army, 
were clustered around the posts intently watching and 
listening as our guides explained how the ropes attached to 
the posts.  We were all fast studies and received our second 
lesson: how our metal harness lugs were to be clipped to our 
harnesses and attached to the ropes.  Finally, the advanced 
lesson in pushing a little slide bar on the harness lug to 
control our descent rate.  Having mastered the theory we 
attached ourselves to the ropes and descended One of the 
guides joined us at the bottom only to instruct us to climb
back up, and do it again.  We took half this advice.  As we 
climbed we noticed the van we had arrived in driving down 
the road, had we reached the point of no return?

	On getting back to the rope posts, our remaining guide 
pointed up the hill to the peak and instructed us to group 
at the top.  After a few minutes we had all reached the peak 
and waited for further instructions.  Our guide then led us 
to attempt a slightly steeper descent, so we attached our 
ropes, attached our harness lugs to the ropes, and started 
down the slightly steeper grade only to find the ground had 
disappeared below and we were dangling over a sheer cliff. 
After a few moments of confusion the advanced lesson set in 
and the harness lug was being used expertly to control our 
falls.  After about a fifty foot drop we found ourselves on 
the ground looking up to see what, or how, the next person 
was doing.  We were offered the opportunity to again take 
this drop, but still in a  wetsuit  the hundred foot climb 
seemed much longer and all but two of our group elected to 
pass on the opportunity.

	Once we had all descended this cliff for our last time 
and grouped at the bottom, our guide came walking down a 
side path and smiled smugly.  We were instructed to stand 
clear of the rope, and with a quick tug on the bottom the 
rope top detached and fell at our feet.  What could be next, 
we collectively wondered?  The guide offered the selection 
of lunch and cold cider, to which a resounding yes buckled 
the hollow's walls.  But the question of where to have lunch 
had to be addressed, and the answer was about two hundred 
meters that way, onward ho!  After a few minutes walking 
down the back side of the hill and avoiding little wooly 
beasts, the van we had watched disappear, reappeared. 
Several sandwiches and bottles of Lemon and Paeroa, a local 
brand of soda, slid down our throats.  Ah, and not to boast, 
the best cider to be had.

	After a quick lunch the guides once again marshaled us 
to our feet, and further adorned us with battery belts, 
miner's lamp s, and life vests.  We were instructed on the 
use of our miner's lights and told to tread over that way, 
toward the lone tree in the meadow.  Off we waddled mildly 
upward and toward the rim of the hill we had just mastered, 
around a barbed wire fence, and as close as we could get to 
the lone tree without breaching a more serious looking razor 
wire fence.  Our guides had instantly slipped into their " 
wetsuits ," and met us at the razor wire fence nearly as 
soon as we reached it.  A key appeared from around our 
guide's neck, and a lock on the razor wire fence opened. Our 
group stepped up a single step onto a wooden deck and 
watched one of our guides close the fence behind us, locking 
us in.  Our other guide walked to a single post by the base 
of the tree and attached his harness lug.  In the blink of 
an eye he was gone, only a muted "OK" could be heard after 
several seconds.

	Our other guide attached a safety grapple 
to the same post and trod to the end of the planks.  We were 
now invited to attach ourselves, one by one, to the rope and 
drop down into the depths of the sink hole we were beside. 
We individually attached our harness lugs to the rope,
positioned ourselves to slip off a sloped wooden wall, and 
gripped the slide bars on our harness lugs as if motivated 
by the fear of death.  Leaning slightly over the ledge we 
dropped down a few feet and abutted the tree trunk with our 
backs.  One by one we wrestled to squeeze through a narrow 
hole between two tree roots, and slowly dropped, down, down, 
down.  As we dangled for an eternity a faint green 
fluorescence began to greet us; we had entered the dominion 
of the glow worm.

	After touching down on a smooth metal 
grate our guide assisted us in detaching and whipping the
rope several times to call the next visitor down.  Our 
miner's lights were on, but dim at best, and our eyes 
required more time than they were given to adjust. 
Lumbering slowly down a metal flight of stairs and finally 
onto actual earth we stumbled over a clutter of jagged 
rocks and boulders to a small room.  We each found a rock 
suitable to sit on, and looked upward to watch the others 
drop into this underworld.  Watching the others gave a 
feeling of accomplishment; not many visit this world.

	While we waited to regroup, our eyes explored the 
limits of the cavern.  The glow worms were too high above 
us to allow a close look for now but the artificial night 
was young.  We knew the score: glow worms  beckon insects 
into their dangling glue-laden snares by the shinning of a 
pin point of light from their bellies.  A mini cosmos of 
lightemitting worms clung to the ceiling.  We knew that 
they had positioned themselves near the top of the sink 
hole, and that we could mistake the view for a moonless 
star spangled night.  Finally we had all touched down and 
found our rock chairs.  We seated ourselves in a 
comfortable repose, turned off our miner's lights, and 
allowed a few minutes to pass as our eyes adjusted to the 
twilight.

	After a quiet personal interlude our guides 
instructed us to turn our lights on as needed, stood up 
and requested we follow.  We lined up on their heels and 
lock-stepped over a large rubble pile and into a natural 
tunnel.  The tunnel was low in places, narrow in others, 
and managed to combine these features occasionally.  After 
several minutes we stopped to listen to the cave.  We 
could hear the noises of our own group, and the distant 
drone of a river.  A trickle of water now cloaked our 
rubber boots and we followed its path for several minutes.  
The tunnel now resembled the inside of a corrugated pipe 
with regular ripples rounding the circumference and a near 
perfect cylindrical shape. Some property of turbulent flow 
had carved these ripples so perfectly as to beg the 
visitor to survey for tool marks. Several tributary 
tunnels, all of similar size and texture, fed into our 
tunnel and with each tributary an increased trickle.

	What had been a challenge of our abilities to stoop was  
now a mild hunching over, even for the tall visitors.  What had 
been the drone of a distant river was now unmistakable and 
much nearer.  Onward we hiked, but again the character of 
the tunnel changed.  The corrugations had disappeared, the 
depth of the water at our feet decreased, and the flow 
rate increased. The walls had become nearly perpendicular 
to the floor, and much rougher in texture.  In some places 
boulders demanded the visitors squeeze around them.  The 
water that had been underfoot disappeared under a rock, 
except for a shallow pool directly ahead, and the sounds 
of a river resounded in echo.  Taking a few steps further 
we suddenly found ourselves standing on the ledge of a 
cliff.  We could go no further: or could we?  The metallic gleam
of a pulley attracted our attention as the light of a miner's lamp
reflected from it.

	One of our guides attached himself to the pulley's belt
using the repelling harness and jumped off the cliff; in a second 
he had disappeared into the blackness of the cavern.  We now 
followed one by one.  Our hearts were racing, our souls 
numb, and our minds whispering doubt in our sanity as we 
leapt from the cliff.  For several seconds only the loss 
of orientation occupied the visitor in adrenal overdose, 
but then the light from our miner's lamps, previously lost 
to infinity, illuminated a cave wall.  Shriek!  Too fast, 
too fast, and suddenly with a jerking deceleration we each 
began to slide away from the wall and backward into the 
vast blackness.  Slowing to a stop, the sound of a river 
directly below, and only now the guide who had disappeared
became visible as he reached out to pull each of us over to a 
ledge.  Dropping from the pulley belt was a pleasure.  The 
ledge we were on was nearly as flat as a table, and the 
edges eroded round by the historic rushing of waters.  We 
seated ourselves away from the pulley belt, turned off our 
lights, and waited for the next disoriented visitor to fly 
past.  Finally the last of our party had arrived, as dazed 
as all those before her.  Then from nowhere emerged 
cookies and warm chocolate milk; before going onward we 
frenzied in a caloric rage.

	After this brief distraction wore off we began to 
mill about our ledge.  We could see very little of the 
cavern we were in, but the pounding sound of a waterfall 
was near. Looking over the ledge was difficult because of 
its rounded edges, and nothing could be seen other than 
the glow of thousands of hungry worms below.  The feel of 
the cave wall was much more sandpaperish than the specimen 
we had encountered in the museum.  The thousands of 
visitors having run their fingers over the rock sample had 
changed the museum specimen's character.  The purpose of 
our polyester outerwear was evident: it was to extend the 
life of our wetsuits in this gritty world.  The most 
pressing question for our group was: what now?  The ledge 
we were on had no exits, and was surrounded by cliff face.  
Over to one end of the ledge laid a mound of bloated inner 
tubes, but what for? Our guides grabbed their inner tubes, 
fastened the tubes to their bums with a tight grip, walked 
to the ledge of the cliff, and jumped off.  Was this the 
end?  Splash!  Suddenly the purpose of the inner tubes had 
been made clear, and one by one our group lunged over the 
cliff holding inner tubes firmly to their backsides.  
Splash, splash, splash.

	The fall had been only twelve feet, and the river 
below awaited with its cold waters to envelope the diver.  
The river was deep and slow moving under us.  We floated 
to its margins and waited for the last of our group to 
join us. While waiting, we got to inspect the glow worms 
up close in their own light.  Their bodies were long and 
spindly, and nearly transparent.  The green light issued 
from their centers leaving the mouth end free to move 
about and rip apart prey.  The worm, not much thicker than 
a coarse human hair, was a ferocious beast in the 
microworld.  Using an abstract version of a spider web to 
entangle its prey, and even its parent fly, this 
enlightened larva is, was, and forever will be a cannibal.  
The glow worm's web consisted of dozens of fibers hanging 
about its body and globules of glue adorning each fiber 
ready to waylay the wayward fly.

	After a short time we had regrouped, and now let 
loose of the cave walls and floated on our inner tubes through 
the labyrinths.  Above, we were treated to a sky as 
complex as the one we know in our world.  Hundreds of 
thousands of worms transmitted their signals of welcome to 
the unwary. The river slowly crept through this dim hungry 
world.  The channels themselves were again nearly perfect 
cylinders with constant diameters of about twelve feet.  
The corrugated ripples again adorned the walls of these 
channels.  In some places the water level became too low 
to float. Wading between deep interconnected pools became 
the norm, and we could explore the bottom of the channel 
in its shallow places.  

	The flour was corrugated as were 
the walls, but often broken into squares and tilted 
parallel to the water flow.  We continued our trek for 
about thirty minutes.  When we reached deep water again we 
seated ourselves in our inner tubes, interconnected our 
arms and legs, and were slowly pushed against the river 
flow by our guide.  On our journey back to the cliff, our 
guide warned everybody of the impending boom he was going to
produce, then banged his innertube on the water surface.
Quite a  boom it was, as the echoes permeated the tunnels
for tens of seconds, with every echo less distinct than the
one before.  After reaching the cliff area we tossed our inner
tubes up to where we had found them and selected another 
branch of the river to follow.

	Wading slowly in the buoyant  wetsuits we came upon 
a deep pool in time to notice a splash of water too 
violent to be from the flow of the river: we were not 
alone!  Our miner's lamps fixed on the splash in time to 
notice a large green eel yawn its great dagger-lined tooth 
bed and treat us as a tolerated annoyance in its normally 
placid world.  This fat serpentine creature was ready to 
make its way to sea, and we had been lucky to happen upon 
it.  The eel stayed fast to its position, and we circled 
around, not to tempt fate.  What other creatures lurked in 
these waters just beyond notice; do we want to know?

	Shortly the sound of a waterfall entered our 
perceptions.  The slow waters we had been wading in were 
now becoming shallower and faster with every step.  Soon 
the noise of the falls ahead in the black became too 
alarming to ignore.  The floor of the cave was now rough, 
broken, and in no way constant.  The tilted chunks of cave 
floor made for a torturous walk in a fast knee deep 
current.  The sound of the falls was now becoming strong 
enough to vibrate our chests.  Our eyes could now begin to 
perceive the falls ahead, and to the side a metallic sheen 
which we would no doubt investigate.  Trekking in the 
ankle deep torrent, carefully thinking through every step 
to proceed to the slide we slowly grasped the outcrops 
around us and made for what turned out to be a water 
slide.

	Swish, we flew down this underground amusement and 
landed in a still rapid knee deep flow, but this flow was 
much less a problem.  We traipsed onward wondering if it 
would ever slow.  It never did.  Soon the rush was hip 
deep but still fast as the corridor had shrunk to only a 
few feet in width.  The guide again smiling a knowing 
smile, and the ensuant butterflies in our stomachs 
collectively lashing out on cue.  One of our guides ducked 
down near a cave wall, turned, winked, and disappeared 
from sight.  Did he expect us to follow?  Our little 
voices were proclaiming insanity alerts at this time, but 
common sense had not managed to dissuade us yet.  Down 
below water level we followed only to be whisked into a 
little room.  Our heads popped up in the stream of a small 
waterfall above, and in searching the room for our guide, 
found him pointing up to a hole some twenty feet above us, 
still smiling.  We were directed to climb up the waterfall 
face, and with the dignity of our exhausted death grips we 
did hoist ourselves up through the falls flow and into its 
source conduit.

	The falls source conduit was a narrow, low, and 
debrisriddled channel.  We had to make our own assessments 
as to whether it was preferable to duck walk or to 
slither.  The pipe-like crag was too short to duck walk, 
and the rock too rough to slither, so after selecting the 
best bad option, and only a hundred meters of empathy for 
industrially sanded products we emerged into a bigger 
tunnel.  This tunnel was large enough to stand erect in.  
Looking down the boulder strewn tunnel a gleam of light 
could be seen, and we the subterranean were attracted as 
flies to a glow worm.  Our final actions were to climb a 
succession of bigger and bigger boulders, and finally on 
to the biggest from which we could climb up and out of the 
cave with only the heartiest of effort.

In reentering the outside world we walked up a flower
strewn trail to our van which was awaiting our arrival. 
After removing our miner's lamps and belts, the 
rappelling harness, the life vests, the polyester pants, 
and probably ten pounds each, we were sad to leave this 
underworld.  We headed back to the compound from which 
we had taken our wetsuits, returned them, took showers, 
and entered the kitchen for a good bowl of pumpkin soup.  
Everything else was just an anticlimax to our day in one 
of the Waitomo caves.



THE END