A PERSONAL ACCOUNT
by Richard Patterson

    We arrived in the jungle, dropped our gear at an Huetec Indian hut and raced toward Golandrinas to take a look at our long-awaited adventure. Whipping past trees and hopping up the last limestone boulder, the massive hole entrance came into view and humbled us immediately.
    Nothing could have prepared us for the reality. Golandrinas welcomed us with an open mouth. We were speechless. We inched toward the limestone edge and I felt my adrenaline flowing. Gaping over the lip, the limestone walls quickly gave way to utter darkness descending to the bottom of the pit, our proposed destination, more than 1,000 feet down. I had been looking forward to the trip, but now self-doubt overwhelmed me.

    Sotano de las Golandrinas is the mother of all caves. The pit is 1,300 feet deep at its deepest point, deeper than the Empire State Building is tall. Its opening cuts through the jungle in a near perfect circle 180 feet across. The hole entrance is centered directly above an ominous 270,000 square foot floor giving Golandrinas its inverted cone-like structure and awesome sense of power.
    The jungle was quiet as our team pondered our efforts to enter the cave the next day. The late afternoon brought clear skies, soon dotted with the famous swallows that slept in the cave each night. A river of birds from the horizon continued to stream into the cave. The wind whooshed as thousands of wings mimicked the sounds of the ocean surf. Hundreds of thousands of swallows screamed past our heads. As dusk fell, the late stragglers came in at ever increasing speed to reach home before dark. The aerial show lasted almost two hours. Still, there was more to look forward to. As the Huestec Indians who make their home here told us, the birds were most beautiful as they left the cave all at once in the morning.

MORNING SWALLOWS

    At the break of dawn on descent day we were again at the pit to witness the morning exodus. The birds below awakened and the whooshing sounds of their wings grew louder and louder. Only their ghostly shadows could be discerned in the dim morning light filtering into the upper parts of the cave. As the light brightened, hundreds of thousands of swallows were visible, moving in a circular corkscrew pattern, counter clockwise deep in the center of the pit. A tornado of birds swirling quickly and gracefully as a single unit approached the earth's surface. Flying and circling inside the cave, their movement was dizzying and hypnotic. I wanted to sit down or hold onto something. When the swallows got high enough they began pouring over the edge a few feet above our heads. Once they made it over the lip of the cave their movements became erratic, in answer to the falcons hovering high above the opening eyeing their next meal. A feathered cat and mouse game ensued. The falcons circle several hundred feet above the cave waiting for the moment to fold up their wings, give a few kicks for speed and dive for breakfast. The captures happened just feet above our heads.

    This mass exodus of birds takes only about 25 minutes until they disappeared into the daylight. Never did we see another swallow until the evening.

THE DESCENT

    The descent requires a 1,400 foot rope that weighs 110 pounds and a body harness with a special descending device attached to adjust the speed of the descent, and a spritzer bottle to cool off the friction-heated rope and rappel rack during the descent. Each team member had a pre-set ascending device at their feet and chest.
    The basic rules for dropping into Golandrinas are very clear. Go slow. Stay in control. Do not stop during the rappel, for stopping would only increase the heat and friction.
    The mood was heavy. Anchors were set and Dave Amberger, the businessman, who spent most of his adventuring rock climbing and sailing international waters, was about to be first to descend. After 25 minutes, Amberger called from his radio, "Houston, the eagle has landed."
    The weight of the rope makes it impossible to hook into the rappel line above the lip of the cave and go straight over the edge. Each of us had to be lowered over the edge on a second rope. Once you go over the edge you're dangling in space. There's no ledge to grab onto or lean against as you fiddle with your rigging for the next tierra firma over 1,000 feet below.
    I was the last to go. I was surprisingly calm. I must have used up all my nervous energy watching everyone else descend. Over the edge, I was on my own suspended in the middle of the pit heading towards it's bottom.
    Light limestone rock marked the rim of the entrance. Then the walls fell away dramatically to darker rock that continued into the darkness. I looked below for the other team members to give me a sense of scale but the only thing discernible was a tiny pile of stark white rope that contrasted against the hazy dark bottom.

    Suspended in an immensely beautiful cave, it was the most amazing experience of my life. The allure of doing the deepest cave drop in the world brought us here, but the beauty of the cave dominated my thoughts. This was not the deep, wet and cold pit I had imagined, but had the sublime grandeur of Yosemite condensed into a small underground world. Physically, it was quite easy. Mentally, it was exhilarating and somewhat exhausting.
    I was getting closer. There was less drag on the rope. I adjusted the rappel system to keep going at the same speed. I was nearing the bottom deep in concentration when Lengyel calls out, "Photo Op!" Stopping was out of the question. Finally I touched down, first with my feet, then my butt and finally my back.
    I lay on the floor looking up at the spider strand of rope that leads up to the entrance -- now a tiny opening of light. Lengyel and Amberger sprayed down my rappel rack and laughed. Happy to be down and off rappel I was assisted to my feet. I understood Amberger's Apollo response. It felt and looked like you had just landed on another world. The light streaming in from the opening gave no reason to use a head lamp. The bottom was an intense mossy green. Sculptured formations lay against the walls. The terrain on the six-acre spread varied, one area rugged and mountainous, another area resembling the Great Plains. Boulders great and small were strewn throughout.

THE ASCENT

    While we descended alone, we ascended two at a time. Amberger and his partner went first. While waiting, Lengyel and I scoped out the bottom and searched for another opening, a fissure that led to another 600 foot depth. We frequently checked on the ascending pair: two small figures attached to a tiny strand against the backdrop of this gigantic hole. More than two hours later they reached the top. Then it was our turn. I went first, 20 feet above David. Under the weight of two people the rope turns into a bungy cord. The amount of stretch creates a bobbing situation that Lengyel warned may lead to motion sickness, and thus a slower ascent. Lengyel is no stranger to such queasiness. He recounted the time he crossed the Sea of Cortez in a tiny sailboat in the tail end of a hurricane and was sick for hours. I was glad to be above him.
    On the long way up the ascending technique becomes a rhythmic, almost mindless activity. It's surprisingly easy, but it takes longer than the descent. Mentally, it's far more relaxing. You're ascending with a partner and you can stop to talk and take photos anytime. This is the time when you really have a chance to capture the awesome grandeur of Golondrinas. We reached the earth's surface in an hour and a half.

The Team Building Experience
by David Lengyel

    Teamwork is an inherent part of the caving experience. In this case, there was a great sense of the unknown. There is little information available on the Karst region around Golondrinas. Our information came from an academic report written almost 30 years before. It described its geological features, gave a brief history and rough location. I spoke with a few people in other states who had successfully dropped the cave. I also searched the Internet but found little more than a few dramatic photos. We were very much on our own.
    The area is riddled with caves, so we had plenty of opportunities to practice before taking on the big enchilada. While the first objective was to reinforce everyone's technical ability, practice time was when the wheels of team building rolled into motion. That's when the team came to learn what I had known during my two decades of caving: Success comes from the support of others to accept the challenge or not. Success depends on the rest of the team, but the activity itself is primarily self-directed. It brings to mind the old adage that captures the team building experience: "I have to do it myself but I cannot do it alone."