I wrote these few paragraphs during my most recent Virginia caving trip. We had just come back from a little cave I had found, and my thoughts swirled for a few hours as I tried to sleep. So I got up and found a pencil and rambled my way through one of the edges of the topic of cave conservation. It was an evening high on feeling and probably too short on knowledge, and night-time feelings are too-often revealed as silliness in the daylight. Still, I believed that there were some well-founded ideas here, and I submitted this material to Val Hildreth-Werker for the upcoming conservation issue of the News. After more thought, I realized that there were too many flaws, too many missing pieces, and too much potential to hurt feelings. So while I asked that it be removed from consideration for the News, I will, as promised in my trip report thread, share it here. In acknowledging the potential to hurt feelings, I do not mean to be incendiary by going ahead with posting. I have only been honest, and have tried to be thoughtful. On the topic of flagging, I ask for honest and thoughtful insights, feedback, and rebuttal. I've gone round and round with myself about this, and have yet to really land on anything.
I have thought before about the need, since we have the ability, for photo-documentation of new caves. Tonight, I feel more strongly than before that this is a real need if we wish to call ourselves conservationists, and this brings to mind a whole string of thoughts on the subject. I do not wish to call myself a conservationist, usually, since conservation is widely understood to be something that I find hypocritical, illogical, and small-minded. Still, I am one in the sense that I believe that things of value should be protected from wasteful depletion. The relative values of things are not always evident, and therefore must be determined individually or societally. History has shown that these determinations, whether made in greed or in honest ignorance, were often made in error. This is an endlessly complex subject that I know too little about, and so I will try to stick to the issues that involve cavers.
First of all, how involved can cavers be in conservation. In their role as cavers, I don’t think very much. Unless we call the personal avoidance of gross destruction conservation, there’s not a whole lot we can actively do. To understand what we can do, we must identify things of value that we wish to protect. Here are just a few.
Animal life. In the course of routine travel through the cave, we are not likely to cause significant harm to animal life. As far as some cavers are concerned, bats and salamanders are The Cave Animals. We can make sure to behave with care around hibernating bats, and the NSS and other caving organizations do a good job of reminding us of this. They say much less about the protection of tiny cave animals, which, while interesting to some of us and sometimes valuable to scientists, are not nearly as endearing or photogenic. This is society determining relative value. Even so, we will not threaten the existence of entire species or deprive science of specimens, probably no matter what we do. Some individual living things will be killed by us as we move through the cave. Probably this happens more often than we realize. If we are uncomfortable with this sacrifice, we can stop caving, and reserve our incidental killing for above-ground creatures… but we are cavers.
Historical and archeological artifacts. While I am fascinated by these things, I don’t know very much about what threatens them, or how to take care of them. I would guess that very many artifacts have been destroyed by curious tampering or lost to would-be researchers and interested observers through selfish removal. Certainly some have been covered in graffiti. If this is the case, our role in the conservation of this resource is a simple one: Don’t mess with stuff. Be observant. Except perhaps in rarely visited or rediscovered caves, a careful caver is very unlikely to destroy artifacts by accident.
Aesthetic resources. Probably these are most often speleothems, but there exist in caves a great variety of things that are visually appealing. Again, we conserve mainly by leaving things alone. This can be a challenge when moving through dense formations, or when making repeated transitions from muddy to clean floors. Carefulness, and planning, and sometimes restraint are needed. Yet again, and unfortunately, the need for extreme care diminishes as visitation increases. The accidental breakages have already occurred and inevitable trails are already in place in most of the caves visited by many cavers. One confusing method used to “conserve” speleothems is to barricade them behind flagging tape. This behavior either misses the point entirely or is more ambitious in its scope than I am able to appreciate. Do flaggers not realize that speleothems are an aesthetic resource (that is, that they are valuable only because we think they are pretty)? And that protecting them from being diminished through accidental breakage by intentionally diminishing them with unnatural and ugly flagging is both pointless and contradictory? As I said, it is possible that flaggers have the “long-term” integrity of pretty things in mind when they uglify them. But I am uncomfortable with this idea of saving things “for future generations” by losing them to ourselves. Giving away, certainly, a present, in exchange for an uncertain and almost definitely unappreciative future is a sacrifice that I, maybe in selfishness, do not wish to make. Still, I could at least respect such an idea if it was a proven fact that flagging protected anything. I repeat, the thing that enacts real conservation, and the thing that will protect speleothems, is responsible behavior, and responsibility is not dependent on flagging tape. If flagging is unreasonably placed it will be ignored, even by a responsible and caring caver. If flagging is well out of the way, it will serve no use to the responsible and caring caver. Flagging will mean nothing to a vandal. So why do we do it? Maybe in an attempt to demonstrate the value that we place on speleothems. But this is a misguided and, I feel, selfish way to announce our righteousness.
And so conservation for cave tourists (which must make up the majority of “cavers” or NSS or other caving club members) is mainly a matter of not intentionally destroying things. The only active way they can participate in it is by offering a kind and informal education to those who have not yet learned to care for cave resources. This does have value, and it is fulfilling to see our concerns reflected by new cave explorers, or old cave explorers who demonstrate a willingness to adjust their behavior.
There is another thing we can do, a thing that the NSS has done too little to teach; therefore, that we have done too little to teach ourselves. This is for us to recognize and fulfill our responsibility toward virgin caves. Perhaps the negligence of the NSS is due to the fact that relatively few cavers are involved in the exploration of virgin caves. Perhaps the, “…nothing but footprints” mantra is too much exposed as inadequate where such exploration is concerned. Whatever the case, here is the issue as I see it, along with a few ideas about what to do about it.
A virgin cave can only be seen once. If it is sufficiently narrow it can only be seen by one person, the one in the lead. Unlike the above-ground landscape which can heal many of the wounds we give it with remarkable speed, and which brings us an ever-changing display of beauty and activity no matter how still we sit, the cave is a fragile vision thousands of years in the making. And it is a long, dark, skinny vision that we must enter bodily if we wish to see it. It will not bring anything to us. Of course, there are caves that can be explored while leaving virtually “no trace”. I am not talking about these. I am talking about the sort of cave that my brother and I surveyed tonight. This small, unreported Virginia cave was, beyond a pit 100 feet from the entrance, virgin. Though not a spectacular cave, it was pristine and profusely decorated. The walls were in many places covered in flowstone and enormous and delicate “popcorn” and “coral”. The floors were alternately clean rock, ancient and undisturbed (and incredibly sticky) sediment, and flowstone. In order to explore the cave we had to touch and walk on and climb on these things. We were careful. We went slowly. We followed each other’s footsteps. In one place we carried our shoes. And we broke things. We got mud on the walls. We left footprints, and not the kind of footprints, I hope, that the NSS deems to be the acceptable mark of the good caver. These were hideous, violent, glaring footprints. Footprints that changed the cave more in six hours than it has changed, probably, in the last six centuries. As we chimneyed across a canyon, the tinkling of thousands of bits of falling cave coral announced our movements. Sliding through a gap between stalagmites, we smeared them with our muddy bodies. Our conquest of the cave was a funeral march. The wounds we gave it will not heal. As a virgin cave, it is no more.
What should I do? Should I turn around when it becomes obvious that going on will damage the cave? No. I am a caver. Besides that, never seeing the cave shows it no more respect than seeing it, undisturbed, only once. What I, and we, can control is how we see the cave. Here are some things to consider:
Make sure to understand the gravity of what you are doing. You are claiming something that can only be claimed once. To do so without appreciation, without reverence even, is a waste unforgivable of anyone claiming to be a conservationist (which I hope I’ve made clear is simply a decent, caring, thoughtful, responsible person).
Being aware of the permanent effects your actions will have, make real efforts to minimize them. Do not conclude that since there is no way to avoid marring the cave, you do not have to be careful. Do not allow, for example, the fact that you have to remove one or two fine stalactites to result in a negligence of care around lesser speleothems. Try to leave things in a state that will allow future visitors to imagine, or almost imagine, what the virgin cave looked like. Anyone can go slowly, follow each other’s footsteps, or sometimes carry their shoes. Other ways to reduce impact include secrecy and gating. You as the original explorer may have to be personally involved in deciding whether or not these are appropriate. My own feelings on such methods are deeply conflicted. However, it must be admitted that they have, sometimes along with caring stewardship, been instrumental in the keeping of some caves in near-perfect condition. I have concluded that if the primary resource of a particular cave is its aesthetic beauty, and if that beauty can reasonably be expected to be threatened otherwise, then by all means, hide it or gate it. Surely a beautiful cave seen by a few is more valuable than a ruined one seen by many.
Photograph the cave. This is much easier now than in the recent past. If you do not photograph the virgin cave, no one else will be able to. This is especially important in areas that will be most affected by travel. Many wild “tourist caves” have areas celebrated for beauty that no longer exists, having been destroyed by those flocking to see it. These areas eventually become nothing more than names on a map, and unless photographed, are lost. It is possible that good photo documentation should take priority over traditional survey, which anyway is too often nothing more than an ego-driven means for explorers to lay claim to their finds. It is certain that photographs should be highly valued by state cave surveys, and liberally included in a cave’s file. Where possible, plenty of photos should accompany the publication of a new cave map, or even be present on the map. These measures are not always easy to enact. I, for example, lack the resources to acquire high-quality photographic equipment. Much more importantly, I lack the artistic vision and technical skill needed to capture images worthy of the cave. Sometimes I lack the needed patience, and usually I lack patient assistants. Even in the best circumstances I am never fully pleased with my results, but I try. I intend to keep trying, and improving.
Find virgin caves. Cavers have engaged in much mourning over lost spelean beauty. Many younger or newer or pedestrian cavers are in no position to understand what was lost, having never seen a truly pristine cave. Touring popular wild caves will never be completely sufficient to describe what the cave was. If you wish to assign value to a great and unique resource, the thing to do is to get out and find it yourself. If you do find or dig open a new cave, consider sharing it, if possible, with people who will really respect and appreciate it.
Look at the cave. This sounds simplistic, and perhaps is, but it can be hard to slow down and look, especially when we are excited. It should be recognized that each virgin cave will not be, in the traditional sense, beautiful. This should not distract us from the fact that each will be unique. Learn to see and appreciate more than gaudy speleothems. Look at the mud. While waiting on my brother to dig during the recent survey of a virgin passage, I found myself fascinated by the strata of a little clump of sediment which had settled, layer by layer, and century by century, I expect, and had been left atop a protruding bit of chert as the floor receded. If many people travel this narrow passage, this dirt will be knocked loose and ground into obscurity. See these things. That I looked so carefully at this dirt only in a time of waiting suggests that I may cave too quickly, too blindly, when I have the opportunity. The virgin cave is a gift given to hard workers more often than fortunate tourists, but this does not entitle us to accept it greedily or carelessly. As long as we cherish it, it is uniquely our own, and we keep it at least a little in our memories. If we do not, it is no one’s, and is profoundly wasted.
Midway, Virginia
January 14, 2015