Mountain Clowns: Part 1

We sit crammed into the BMW mini cooper practicing Japanese lessons racing past cow-filled fields and rusted out trucks. It's the only two door without a flat bed on the horizon. The close quarters don't bother us; we've spent 14 hours in them to get here. The closeness is almost comforting in the strange countryscape.

The day before we had tried to meet some of the locals and were met with the mixture of terror and skepticism one conjures up when seeing four oddly dressed urbanites step out of a clown car in the mountains.




"Mountain Clowns" Jurek calls us. Not far from the truth.



The clowns pulled up to the entrance to Scott's Hollow Caves looking for an escape from the office, the city, the banality of urbanity. We decided to seek it underground.

We were greeted by Mike and Jan, the husband and wife operators of the Scott's Hollow Caves, along with Mike and Alex, the guides that would be leading us through part of the 28 mile subterranean labyrinth.

"Have you ever lost anyone?" I joke.

"Naw," Mike said. Then after a moment of thought, "Well, there was that one time Mike lost someone and we had someone go back to find them. But that's not really lost."

This clown was not laughing...

We get our gear on and go through the procedure. Nothing out of the ordinary except we sign away any liability suits we may file in case of injury or death. My mind flashes back to the lost caver wondering through the absolute darkness resigned to eat cave newts until death wraps her thin fingers around the already emaciated throat sucking the last whisp of...

"Down ya go!"

I snap back. Down?

Mike lifts a piece of plywood to reveal a rusty tube pointing into the ground.

Our companion Rob bravely struts over to the tube and halts. Looking down the hole his eyes go wide, his face pales. I start to sweat. I'm not crazy about heights and I'm than a little claustrophobic. Nothing like a 50 ft tube point into darkness to stimulate both these fears. I go next.

I race down the ladder as quickly as possible kicking myself for not having written my will yet. I reach the bottom rung and put my foot down onto nothing. I missed the clown car. Was this really what I am here for? To scare the shit out of myself? After I reach bottom and untuck my coveralls from my boots just in case.

Once every makes it to the bottom, all fears disappear. With the six lights combing the walls everything is well lit and the beauty of the place overcomes me. We walk comfortably into the darkness.



I'm in great spirits and ask about everything from the effects of water on limestone vs. shale, how many years of caving experience these guys have, types of animals we may encounter, etc.

We are moving at a pretty fast clip. On our first water break our guide Mike mentions that he is actually breaking a sweat and we might try some of the tougher parts of the cave.

"Apparently he has not made it to the stage of hallucination that comes with over-exertion," I think staring at bright lights down an endless crevasse. The day has only begun.