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<center><font size=-1>Cambridge Underground 1985 pp 4-6</font>
<h2>Austria 1984 Expos&eacute;e - Everything Revealed</h2>
<p>by Mike Richardson</center>
<p>An elite group visited Austria this time; team rust (Wadders and Bill in
the blue Mini), team speed (Mike M., Planc and John in the Alpine), team
smoothies (Wiggy, Brian and Mike T. in the Fiesta), and team momentum (Andy
D. and the author in Rover the Rover). Notice, <b>NO WOMEN</b>.... persistent
mutterings from Wiggy that he'd have to do some caving this year instead. "I
didn't do much caving last year, but I did an <b>awful</b> lot of ****ing".
<p>Outward bound was largely uneventful, except for criticism of Brian's
driving abilities before a flat tyre was diagnosed, and the partial
disintegration of the Alpine's exhaust. We visited
<span lang=de>Dachau;</span> full of happy, smiling tourists ("Aw, gee Elmer,
the gaz chamber. Ah've just got to take a photograph....."). Still, we all
got there, the Staud'nwirt's landlady's eyes coming up schilling signs as
Wiggy presented himself. Planc and Wadders immediately availed themselves of
the liquid refreshment, and spent a happy evening lobbing sugar into each
other's biers. It was later decided to experiment by heating up a tin of
sweetcorn on a petrol stove without any water, and the beer tent spent the
rest of the trip decorated with bits of corn. Next morning, the group of boy
scouts who were camped next to us asked us not to set off fireworks in the
middle of the night.
<p>An initial spell of lethargy was interrupted by some caving.
<span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle</span> and
<span lang=de>Steinschlagschacht</span> were restarted, while Wadders played
Pacman (sorry, Snapper) on his Beeb in the Gasthof. Then Andy D. and Planc
set of to push <span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle,</span> while Mikes T. and the
author headed for <span lang=de>SSSchacht,</span> to be followed later by
Bill and John. At about 5 p.m. we decided that we'd just about run out of
rope, and anyway could comfortably get back for a bier or four, so we set off
out, passing the other two. The weather remained dry until the first was
downed.
<p>Around 10 pm, the World War Three rehearsal got under way, Flash, Bang,
Zap, <span lang=de>Donner und Blitzen.</span> And the gentle patter of
torrential rain. Having retreated to the tents, the author got fed up of
being dripped on, and retreated to Rover, only to be dripped on from some
holes in the roof. Meanwhile, unbeknown to the campsite, Bill and John are
stumbling round on the plateau, mostly lost, and soaked to the skin, while
Andy and Planc are sitting it out at the bottom of the big pitch, huddled
round a gobbler.
<p>Next morning, the rain eased a little, and Bill and John returned looking
fraught. The absence of the other two provoked mumblings about possible
rescues, but little enthusiasm. However, in the early afternoon, Mike M. (who
had been daft enough to bring a wetsuit) and Wadders (an opportunity to get
him underground, we thought) were sent off, with promises that rescue parties
two and three would follow later. Wiggy and Brian departed a little later,
and the rest later still. Up on the plateau we all met up. Team the first had
got lost, rediscovered some holes otherwise lost to CUCC, and arrived at
<span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle</span> to discover Andy and Planc coming out,
and Wiggy and Brian just arriving.
<p>Apart from a short interlude, it then rained continuously for five days.
The author doscovered the joys of a water bed due to an error in pitching his
tent in a hollow. The beer tent floor degenerated into a mud bath, and vast
quantities of bier were consumed. When the sun finally came out, the foolish
amongst us went caving, those with more sense got sunburned by
<span lang=de>Grundlsee.</span>
<p>The next trip to <span lang=de>SSSchacht</span> fortunately bottomed it at
about -240m, so Mike T. and the author rapidly derigged most of it to prevent
the possibility of any further descents. Meanwhile,
<span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle</span> crept ominously deeper. But of more
important things ! Off we went one evening to the local caving group's
meeting. Slides were shown, and lots of bier consumed. At about quarter to
midnight, the landlord announced a further quarter hour and team
can't-take-the-pace (Planc, Wiggy, Brian and John) departed. At two, bier was
still flowing when it was decided to call it a day, so team
pretty-well-pissed piled into Rover along with Albert, and headed back to
<span lang=de>Grundlsee,</span> Mike T. doing his best to talk Austrian
through a bier haze and against the noise of AC/DC Highway to Hell drowning
out the engine.
<p>Having dropped Bill (Team can't-take-quite-this-much-pace) at the
campsite, and Albert up above <span lang=de>Grundlsee,</span> we set off back
down the valley, with an impromptu bop in the back. Wadders is spaced out
with a bookshelf sized speaker to each ear. Mike M. and Mike T. are bouncing
up and down in the back, and Andy is leaning out of the window pissing. The
dance floor jumps up and down on the specially fitted heavy-duty springs, and
to a tight foot twitching on the pedal. Back at the campsite Brian questions
our taste in music, and we have a long philosophical discussion on sexism,
vegetarianism, and vivisection in the beer tent.
<p>Mike M. went off to a garage to get the exhaust fixed, and was forced to
explain what we were doing in Austria. "Ah", said the garage man, "many
people come to Austria to walk on the mountains; that is normal. Few people
come to Austria to walk in the mountains; that is not normal!". He also
suggested that Mike might like to buy a new car. More sunshine prompted team
ornithologists to go and view the bird-life by the lake, and were rewarded by
the sight of many Great and Lesser Tits. Andy D. also bumped into a Blue Tit
which had fallen out of its nest (accidentally, he claims) while snorkelling.
Said Tit's mate looked set for an altercation, until the Hulk climbed
dripping from the water. We resorted to thoughts of bromide lollies, and then
decided to go posing round town with Rover's roof off.
<p>Meanwhile, Wadders had discovered that the tappets on the mini were so
badly adjusted that the exhaust valves weren't shutting, possibly accounting
for their state. Mike M's front brake pads finally committed suicide in
protest at the toll road, and a further visit to the garage again suggested
that a new car might be a good idea. Various bits of the Fiesta were
inverted, much to the owners displeasure.
<p>Andy D, Planc, and Wiggy went and climbed the
<span lang=de>Dachstein,</span> and Wadders and Wiggy climbed the
<span lang=de>Trisselwand,</span> the latter resulting in a certain amount of
brown perspiration on the 45m unprotected runouts from dubious belay points.
Oh, and we went to the fireworks, which were only so-so, but the bier tent
stayed open rather late, which was better.
<p>But what of the caving ? The <span lang=de>SSSchacht</span> gear was
ferried round to <span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle,</span> and another draughting
hole discovered. Despite much persuasion to the contrary, Planc investigated
it, and reported that it went. Rats, we thought, it'll have to be looked up.
At last, however, there was some good news,
<span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle</span> had stopped at last at a sump, and we all
breathed sighs of relief. Brian crashed out in Fritz's from the effort, and
had a three-storey house of cards built, photographed and demolished on his
back without even noticing. Further investigation of Planc's hole lost the
draught in a messy phreatic bit, so <span lang=de>Wolfh&ouml;hle</span> was
derigged, and some token exploration and surveying carried out on the
Plateau. The Wolf was recovered, and examined by Gunter, who said it was
actually a bear. Unfortunately, due to an administrative error (ie., balls
up) it had been promised to the other caving group.
<p>And that finished it. The key broke off in the Alpine's back hatch,
resulting in another embarassing visit to the garage, and Rover blew a hole
in a core plug. Andy D. and the author set off for
<span lang=fr>Chamonix,</span> Chas, and <span lang=fr>Mont Blanc;</span>
Bill returned to his beloved traction engine and the coal strike; Wadders
slipped away early having been caving exactly once; and everyone lived
happily ever after. Bye !
<hr>
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Cambridge Underground 1985,
<a href="../../../jnl/1985/index.htm">Table of Contents</a><br>
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1984 Expedition info:<br>
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<a href="log.htm">Logbook</a><br>
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<a href="stopp.htm">Stop Press report</a>, CU 1984<br>
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Main Expo report, Cambridge Underground 1985:<br>
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<a href="cavegd.htm">Wolfh&ouml;hle</a> - A Guidebook Description<br>
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An Ascent of the <a href="twand.htm">Trisselwand</a><br>
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<a href="bcracc.htm">BCRA Caves &amp; Caving Report</a><br>
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<a href="../../pubs.htm#pubs1984">Index</a> to all publications<br>
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<a href="../../index.htm">Back to Expeditions intro page</a><br>
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