Beyond The Juice - Cave Base 2002

Even as I sit here trying to recap the epic tale of my trip on Cave BASE 2002 the juice is beginning to flow through my veins but let me try to recall this as best I can.

No shit there I was, standing in a tree that was precariously dangling over the mouth of this 1400' subterranean cave. After an interesting turn in the weather, a fog now covered the entire mouth of this beast and it appeared to roll out the hole and up into the sky like the breath of a sleeping dragon. The weather had turned during the evening before and the entire valley was now covered with the moisture that any heavy fog leaves behind. This combined with the confectionery qualities of the dirt in the area made walking, never mind climbing, quite tricky. If you have ever tried to negotiate an icy surface with slick shoes on you get about one tenth of the effect. Given these conditions I had made a conscious decision to exit from the safest point possible and wait for things to dry off before investigating any of the more hair raising exit points.

"Hey Donk, we are all going to the tree and if you don't come up there with us I will lose all respect for you." Commanded Joe Weber. I, never being susceptible to peer pressure in the past suddenly felt compelled to agree and at least walk up there and look at the exit point.

The trail was covered in wet leaves, mud, and slippery rocks that ended with a slide down a rock chute that brought you over the edge of the cave to the exit point. It felt more like being on a patrol in Cambodia than a casual stroll to an exit point as the early morning fog shadowed us. After the less than comfortable scramble around the inside ledge of the highest wall, I used my now soaked and slimy gloves and slid out to the exit point with as much control as a child sliding out the end of a water-slide. "I made it." At this point my juice meter was already pegged as I realized I was beyond the point of no return. "Try to relax, re-group, and prepare for your exit," I thought. "Look over the edge and assess the situation." Again, I thought I was thinking this to myself but the video later revealed I was actually mumbling aloud and had apparently lost control of my inner monologue.

I decided to peer over the edge to assess the situation and what I saw was almost beyond explanation. The visuals were astonishing. It was a combination of my most fantastic whimsical dreams and my worst nightmares.

The mouth of this beast was wide open and as I looked into this seemingly bottomless pit I could almost hear it breath one of those deep hollow breaths with a long echoing exhale. I began to tremble and attempt to focus more clearly to interpret this stimulus. I thought I was having some strange adrenaline induced delusion but I swore I could see a funnel of black, like the great tornado that brought Dorothy to OZ, roaring inside the belly of this beast. "Get a grip Donk, that can't be!" I shook my head in an attempt to re-focus but this vision did not go away. Just then I realized what this vision was...the birds! This place is called "Sotano de las Golondrinas" or "Cave of the Swallows" for a reason, and the local inhabitants certainly made their presence known!

The swallows and parrots circled below like F-16 fighters flying cover for an armada of forces. The swallows were inside the mouth of the beast circling in groups of a hundred or more and created a vortex of black that appeared to go all the way down to the ground. Occasionally a flash of brilliant greenish yellow would strike out of this funnel of darkness as the parrots of the cave made their run for the sky. The screeching of thousands of birds was now trumpeting out with a deafening pitch that would make Alfred Hitchcock proud.

"I must be dreaming."

"I think we are going to try and time the jumpers through the gaps of the circling birds," thundered over the PA system that was used to communicate between the jumpmasters.

"They are what?!!!" I shrieked. The glass on my juice meter shattered as the needle blew off the scale. "Have these people gone completely mad?"

I looked over at the "pullout" point that was some eighty feet below me and a hundred feet to my left in vain attempt to determine who was uttering this nonsense. Just then the visuals intensified even more. The man who made this call appeared to be dangling over the edge by his knees and one hand like a child on a jungle gym. "I guess that is why they call him Squirrel." To his left was a line of brilliantly colored jumpers being clad in their gear like the nights of the crusades preparing for war. Fluorescent reds, yellows, greens, and blues trailed off as if in a drug-induced hallucination as I turned my head from left to right in disbelief. But there was yet another man dangling 400 feet below on the pullout line like a black widow hanging from it's web waiting for its prey.

Across the mouth of this beast was a ledge that appeared to have been taped off with that bright yellow crime scene tape and from my position created the illusion that if you pushed off too hard you could reach this area. "The tape must be there to make sure we do not hit that ledge in free fall." I was not thinking very clearly in this juice-induced state. The ledge was actually about two hundred feet across and one hundred feet below me and the tape was put up to prevent any locals from getting to close to the edge but at the time and given my state of mind my original assessment made perfect sense.

I was having difficulty trying to determine if this was reality or if I was still asleep back in my bed in Aquismon...

Given these conditions I thought for sure they would put us on hold and I would have a few hours to regain my composure. "I'll give you a ten second call when the gap between the birds is big enough Clem", bellowed Mark Lichtle, the co-leader of this expedition, while dangling some four hundred feet below covered in every modern piece of video recording equipment one could possibly manage from this position.

"Who is going to put a stop to this insanity!" I am frantic.

"Not a problem," cooed David "Clem" Major who was our leader on this mission. "When you see a decent sized gap give me a ten second…. 3-2-1 CYA!" Clem turned to face us and much like the "Nestea Plunge" commercials fell off the ledge and smirked as he disappeared into the vortex birds below. Just as his canopy opened up there was a roar from deep within the bowels of this beast and the sleeping dragon was now awake and acknowledging our presence.

It seemed as if an eternity had passed but Clem reported that all went well and to put the jumpers on stand-by. Now my Juice meter was spinning wildly out of control because I was to be third off the tree and it was only seconds from my turn to leap into the belly of this beast. The adrenaline, anticipation, and fear had created some bizarre reaction in my nervous system. I could hardly talk. I clenched onto the limb of a near by branch with the strength of one hundred men and then it started. Very low at first, my right toe began to twitch, then to my calf muscles and up to my knees, up my spine, and out to the branch. I was shaking like a ten-year heroine addict coming out of detox. "Man Donk, you are shaking the entire ledge," laughed Joe Weber. "But I have flicked all around the world and if this becomes my last BASE jump I would gladly go in here."

"Thanks a lot Joe, that really helps." I mumbled bitterly.

Just then I turned and snapped out of my glazed-over staring into the belly of the beast trance and the reality of who was in this tree with me began to sink in. Behind me were Joe Weber and Shawn Kendall or two of the notorious Team Body Bag members. To my right and above me were Avery Badenhop and Jim Surber of the legendary Ill Vision. On the rope below was Mark Lichtle. And hanging over the pullout point was Randy Pacheco, co-organizer of the event, and Super Johnny Saavedra (add resume info) as well as a host of other highly respected (I use the term loosely) individuals in the BASE and Skydiving community...not much pressure at all.

"What am I doing here and why didn't I stick with golf?" I think to myself.

But I was not first. The first to go was one-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand Jim. Why did we call him this? As Jim Wade went off the edge on each jump you could hear his count. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three-one thousand, etc and when we asked him why he did this his reply was, "Don't worry I do not do this on bandit jumps." Off he went again followed by the sound of his canopy opening only this time the roar from the belly seemed more like a belch from the beast who had just swallowed it's first tasty treat.

"This is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy!"

Just then, Jim Surber and Joe Weber gave me a slap on the back for good luck and off popped my "Good Vibes" necklace that Clem had given each of us at the beginning of this expedition. "Bad omen." I immediately dropped to my knees and dug through the mud and leaves at the root of this tree, much like a rodent foraging for berries under the snow, frantically looking for my talisman of good luck. "Found it," and I was really making one hell of an impression on my BASE jumping peers.

"Next jumper." - was announced over the radios.

The next jumper needs no formal introduction. If you have ever been to Bridge Day you know who Steve Kinnett is. Steve is the amputee who amazes us every year. But you can't really appreciate his capabilities until you have seen him work The Cave of the Swallows with the best of us. "3-2-1 CYA!" and off into the cavern he hopped.

"Man, he got off all kinds of catawampus but recovered good," commented Avery.

"Shit Donk, if a one-legged dude can pull this off so can you," laughed Mr. Weber.

"We had our first bird strike," crackles over the PA. "Donk you're on a one minute".

"Bird strike! What the hell is a bird strike?" I questioned frantically.

"10 seconds for Donk"

So there I stood in a tree covered in mud hanging over the mouth of this beast. A vortex of birds is circling and roaring out into the sky, the eyes of the BASE / skydiving world are upon me, the echoing roar of opening canopies is all around, and I am wondering what the hell a bird strike is. But the reason we get in this sport is to overcome the fear and let the juice free. And this adventure is chuck full of that.

"3-2-1 CYA. Donnnk annd Bonezzz! "

At first it was as if I were in suspended animation. I could see all that I saw the first time I peered over the edge only at this moment we were at absolute zero and all molecular movement had stopped. I was frozen above the hole looking at all I have described. I could clearly see the spectators below me on the opposite side's ledge pointing up at me. "Loco Americano!" One of the local shouts as the entire landscape, which rivals the land where Colonel Kurtz was found, instantly disappeared above me as I was being swallowed alive and drowning in earth.

It was initially silent and exponentially grew louder as I passed the Camera Spider to my left shooting video. "Yahoo!" I screamed and threw out a double mano cornuto. The feeling was familiar, as I was in freefall, but the visuals were certainly not. The walls of the cave are initially claustrophobic but quickly drop away on all sides after a few seconds. The light went from bright to a dimly lit collage of gray, brown, and greens as I was rushed down the walls of the cave that seemed to follow me down in all directions almost relentlessly. After a few seconds I could see the opening of a small cave in a nearby wall coming into my peripheral vision, which meant it was time to think about pulling. Imagine the feeling of being in freefall, completely surrounded by walls, and looking for a dark hole in one of them. In a sense this was more like more like scuba diving…but at Mach 1.

"Cave one. Time to pull!"

Whack! The canopy smacks open and echoes all around me as I am about to be digested. The sound of my canopy opening immediately draws the whistle of the birds still in the cave inviting or applauding my presence. "Wall at 12:00!" Left Turn. "Wall at 12:00." Another left turn. Yet there is still more wall..."I am surrounded by wall!" The initial response to this stimulus is it is not possible to fly a canopy in here. Then you realize the walls, which appear to be on top of you, are actually hundreds of feet way and a calm begins to come over you as the cool air and calming whistles from the birds swirl around...it is like spiritual utopia. But as I looked around I soon realized I was in the belly of the beast and now have a better understanding of how Bilbo Baggens must have felt once inside of Mount Doom. Not much time to ponder this thought because the most important part of this mission is canopy control.

I am so amped up that I seemingly lost all control of my muscular coordination and could not at any cost get my eyes to adjust to the landing area that was directly below me. I flailed left and right, like a true master of canopy flight (not), hammered on both toggles and landed like some Greek winged god touching down to greet his subjects. As I landed I screamed in elation and looked up at the mouth from where I just fell. Just then, a brilliant column of bright white light beamed through the mouth and onto the hill where I stood. It was as if the heavens were opening up or an alien craft was delivering me from the mothership. "Ahhh-leee-haaa." A new feeling came over me that again started deep down at my toes then up though my spine and the back of my neck. For a second time I screamed in elation, then jumped up down and ran to hug anyone I could find. This was a far better feeling than my first skydive, my first trip to NRGB, or completing BASE. This feeling was well beyond explanation and there are no words that Mr. Webster has identified that can really capture this moment.

As I looked around it was only then that I realized how perilous the area was. I was standing on a hilltop looking down a sixty-degree slope that was over four hundred feet above the cavern floor. This area is filled with car-sized boulders and jagged razor-sharp pieces of rock that had fallen in over hundreds of years of tumbledown. Everything had an eerie greenish hue from the moss that covered much of the rocks. I turned and looked behind me down another one hundred feet of forty-five degree slope that was filled with bowling ball sized rocks and wet moss. And just below the landing area was another two hundred-foot slope that had the worst of everything imaginable. At any moment I half expected the Gollum to approach me with some riddle or ask me about his "precious" for I was definitely deep inside Middle Earth.

"Donk...You're on time out." Echoed over the PA system. And once again I snapped back to reality. One of the rules for the betterment of the expedition is you must hit the designated landing area for extremely obvious reasons. You do not have a choice and getting hurt here would be a horrific experience with no modern medical facilities nearby. The only other places to land (and I certainly wouldn't call them outs) is a guano pile just past the landing area or a moss covered path that curves up the inside ledge between one of the taluses and under the overhang of the nearby wall. This was some fifty referred to as "Donk Land". Everywhere else is a maze of extremely intimidating talus's sloping up and down in every direction like something reminiscent of a M.C. Escher painting.

"Hell yes I am on time-out." I laughed as realized just where I had landed.

As I sat in time-out totally intoxicated on adrenaline and stared up at the mouth of this now seemingly calm beast, I was privileged to see a display of BASE jumping that would impress even the most cynical of BASE critics. Jim Surber and Avery Badenhop pulled an extremely "ill" two-way where Surber Nestea-ed and Avery rolled over the top of him like two eagles in flight. Joe Weber and Shawn Kendall were locked together having a conversation about who was going to pull first. "You pull." "No you pull," could be heard from above as the two rushed into the hole. And then came Kentucky Windage, Dwayne Bradshaw and Morgan Moert, who quietly made their presence known with first time sweet back tucks and back layouts that impressed all the BASE gurus present.

"O.K Donk you can go back up to the top." Clem released me from my bonds.

This adrenaline junket is not over after the flick. You have to get down, get packed, and prepare to ascend 1200 feet to the pullout point. No words can completely describe this portion of the adventure. But if you close your eyes and imagine you are hanging from a thread in a dark cavern and when you look down you see nothing below you and are so far from the top that the thread actually disappears. Once again you get the feeling of suspended animation only this time it last for several minutes and it feels like you are just floating in a space surrounded by gigantic rock formations and terrain that has only been better described in JRR Tolkien novels. As I was laying there gently being pulled to the surface, slowly spiraling my way out of the darkness to the light above, the warmth of the air atop began to warm me from the outside in. The slow spiral of the ascent, the awe-inspiring visuals, and the gentle hum of the engine that was pulling me to the top put me in some hypnotic state.

As I approached the top my hypnosis was suddenly broken and I was brought, once again, back to reality when Splash (Mike Robinson) came ripping by me screaming, "I dig this the most!" And if that wasn't enough I swear I saw the naked body of Steve "Smiley" Janz tumble by grinning ear-to-ear as he back laid it all out there for everyone to see. Can BASE? Yes he can.

I finally get to the top and was looking for the Dom Perrignon to celebrate my triumphant return from the belly of the beast or to simply go lay down and absorb all I had just encountered.

"Hey Donk get your rig we need a jumper." Randy calls.

Here we go again...

This is only a recap of 11 of 79 total jumps made by our expedition and each one was filled with as much excitement and pleasure as the next. This is truly an extreme event that is the greatest adventures "in" earth. The details of this cave have been described many times before but no words or pictures can completely capture the beauty or danger of this awe-inspiring site. The memories of the trip will last beyond my lifetime and I can only hope that anyone who enjoys adventure takes the opportunity to experience this. This has to be one of the most ultimate BASE adventures ever created.

There was also a valuable lesson learned. I went there with a get-off-the-object and survive mentality, which is okay, but does not serve you best here. This cave is filled with opportunity and adventure and the ability to flick from trees, way overhung ledges, and running exit points. This is a playground for the BASE enthusiast but one must go there completely prepared and confident to fully enjoy what this beautiful and amazing place has to offer. I will return again for another adventure with my new friend who was not a beast at all but a sleeping beauty. I can hear it beckoning me to return and share in the surreal experience...one that is way beyond the juice!

Thanks to Randy Pacheco, Dave Major, David Schlosser, Johnny Saaverdra, and Mark Lichtle of Aerial Extreme for putting on an incredible adventure and also to the BASE/skydiving professionals who gave advice, encouragement, and helped instill confidence to try new things. A special thanks to Jim Surber for opening the doors to another aspect of the sport that I had never truly appreciated.

Anthony DiCola - (AKA Donk).

Authors note: As always, with any of my Donk-isms, poetic license and sensationalizing for reader appeal applies. Aerial Extreme takes every precaution imaginable to insure a safe and pleasurable experience. The pure number of incident-free jumps alone is a testament to the competence, dedication of the staff, and the evolution of seven years of incremental advancement that now seems tuned to perfection.

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