I need to preface this slightly: It was a long time ago and there’s a distinct risk of me conflating memories about the two trips to Clare in which I was involved, other remiscinces may differ, please let me know what I’ve got wrong!
I think the first of two County Clare trips I joined was in 1974. Working in a Bank at the time I was put in charge of the finances, that included finding accommodation in part because I had to book my annual leave many months in advance.
Some of the difficulties we encontered then would have evaporated had the internet and mobile phones been available, half a century is a long time in technology!
The first issue we had to confront was the 1973 oil crisis. Before the crisis petrol was 35p a gallon (in today’s terms, inflation adjusted, that would be £3.60), but prices were increasing with the crisis. One effect was that the UK national speed limit was reduced to 50mph which led to our long drives to the caving areas being even longer. For planning purposes I made the bold declaration that I’d calculate fuel costs on the basis of 50p a gallon, that turned out to be correct.
Accommodation was a big problem. There was a “well known” caving hut in the area so I wrote a letter to the owner. In due course a reply arrived, it was two pages of lined paper labouriously hand-written and went into detail about the facilities – a traditional and very basic rural irish cottage, we could get turf for the fire, milk and fresh soda-bread from the nearby farm and we could benefit from “use of the donkey”. The final sentence was “unfortunately it is not available for the dates you want”.
The next port of call was the local tourist board list of accommodation. Cavers are not big spenders and not especially welcome in accommodation ill equipped for dealing with wet muddy people and equipment. Choices were very limited. In the end we had to settle for a cottage south of Quilty, about 30km from the main caving areas.
Another problem was the paucity of detailed maps of the area, there was no equivalent of OS 1:25,000 or even 1:50,000 mapping but it was possible (and expensive) to get the 6 inches to the mile maps (about 1:10,000) by post from the Irish OS (now available free online here).
As for guide books, we had the “classic” The Caves of Ireland by JC Coleman and the more recent Caves of North-West Clare, Ireland the publication of the latter may have been the reason we decided to explore the area. At the time there were few caving books available and whenever I found one second hand or newly published I’d buy it (I’ve still got those two and a more recent Caves of County Clare by CA Self – they are now hard to find and I’d be willing to sell my copies). The two books we had to rely on were somewhat academic and include a lot of geology, archaeology, the information about the sporting caves is very limited. It’s possible we had some other references, perhaps UBSS publications.
Next problem was getting there with all our caving equipment. Petal (Paul Turner) did an incredible job with his Mini, adding a roof rack of his own design and manufacture with high sides and extending over the bonnet, leaving the internal space available for passengers.
I don’t have a diary of the trip and there were very few photos because we were in the days of film cameras and flash-bulbs. Most of my memories are about experiences and places, I only recall the names of a few of the caves we visited.
I don’t think there was any underground photography on that trip, it was just too much hassle, the cameras needing to be carried in heavy bulky waterproof ex-army ammunition boxes, flash bulbs were necessary too and all the delicate expensive equipment needed to be protected from grit and moisture once it was out of the protective case.
We took the car-ferry to Dublin and got lost leaving the city (no satnav of course!) so asked for directions. Take the first left turn after Paddy’s bar. That didn’t go well, after a couple of miles we’d not spotted Paddy’s Bar so we asked again you’ve driven past it to be sure, “but we were all looking out for it, what does it look like?” Ah, well the sign says Micks Bar but Paddy was the original owner so everyone still calls it Paddy’s.
A long drive to the west coast on the “new trunk road”. That turned out to be one lane each way with very wide hard-shoulders. We soon found out why. As we approached horse driven carts they’d move onto the hard-shoulder to let us pass. Southern Ireland was still a relatively poor country, outside of towns we saw few cars, and whenever we passed someone walking on a country road (which was common) they’d turn and look expectantly as they heard the car approaching, hoping to be offered a lift – but our car was full. On one occsasion having arrived at the cave, Paul Hicks decided he didn’t want to go underground but would walk the 30km back to our cottage, anticipating that we’d pass him on the road and pick him up. As it turned out the cave proved too difficult. There was a relatively short horizontal crawl only a few feet below ground with occasional small holes to the surface, it was in razor rock (limestone rich in clam shells, the rock erodes faster than the shells leaving projecting sharp edges), it shredded my wet-suit. Then there was a short ladder pitch in a waterfall but the supposed way-on, a narrow rift at the bottom, appeared flooded so we withdrew. We arrived back at our cottage without having spotted Paul – he’d got there ahead of us. How? He explained that everyone that passed him stopped to offer a lift, it was happening so often that in the end he decided best to accept.
Who was on that trip? It was a long time ago and there’s a distinct risk of me conflating information about the two trips but I think Petal, God, Paul Hicks, Grunt.
We’d made friends in the pub at Quilty with the daughters of our landlady. On the last day the mum passed me a folded piece of paper, it was the address of daughter Kate who was living in London. After that I visited her one or two weekends a month which interfered with caving trips somewhat…
I tried letting AI loose on the first few paragraphs of this, here’s the result, utter bollocks!
Embark on a journey through time to the roots of adventure. In 1974, amidst the echoes of the 1973 oil crisis, a daring expedition to County Clare marked the beginning of an unforgettable chapter. As a guardian of finances from the realm of banking, the quest for lodging became a tale of strategic foresight. The absence of digital havens and handheld marvels enhanced the essence of challenge in planning ahead, reminding us that evolution is the pulse of progress. Traversing landscapes etched with memories of 35p petrol and the hum of caving routes at 50mph, every mile held the promise of discovery. A handwritten letter unveiled a rustic charm, promising not just shelter but an irreplaceable connection to the land. Amidst the pages, the allure of tradition mingled with the curiosity of the unexpected. And in those handwritten lines, the word ‘unfortunately’ stood as a silent testament to the unpredictable allure of the untamed. Join us as we unravel the legacy of courage, camaraderie, and the spirit of exploration in the heart of County Clare.
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