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It did momentarily, but then of course nobody wanted to be surprised with a mystery adventure and everybody wanted to be all serious and I was forced into explaining what it was, which then resulted in none of my housemates (kids) wanting to join me.
Spelunking, for those who don’t know, is the exploration of caves, usually as a hobby.
After practising (and failing abysmally) the pitch to my kids, I had to try a more convincing approach to rope a friend in to the adventure with me.
Surprisingly, it didn’t take too much arm-twisting, but I’ve no doubt if she knew then what she knows now, she never would have agreed.
Cold, wet, dirty, bruised, but beaming: Spelunking was a good time — once it was over.
The day came and we headed towards Yarra Junction, where exists a ‘little’, apparently non-intimidating, underground cave ‘for beginners’ known as Britannia Creek Caves.
The weather was awful — relentless rain, mud underfoot, slippery rocks.
Discounting the nerves, I was actually keen to get underground and out of the elements.
We met our small group and our guide (yep, I get lost using a map above ground, so there’s no way I’m trusting my sense of direction below it without a trained professional).
Cutting loose: Irish backpacker Damo had a wardrobe malfunction inside the cave.
After our briefing I was confident (or maybe just hopeful) that it would be a pretty tame introduction to caving — safe, fairly open, not too technical.
And it absolutely would have been to an experienced caver, but to yours truly?
Nope. Parts of this experience were terrifying.
Before we even lowered ourselves into the ground our guide mentioned that the things that looked like spiders down there were just cave crickets and ensured us there was no cause for alarm, despite some of them growing as large as dinner plates!
After a few deep breaths we made our descent and as we crawled along the rough earth on our knees and the passageway narrowed, our breathing became shallower with claustrophobic anxiety.
I think any of the first-timers would have been lying if they said they didn’t want to bail out at that point, but there was no room to turn around and no exits anywhere visible on the path ahead.
No turning back: Belinda Aloi ducks down inside one of the larger spaces inside Britannia Creek Caves near Yarra Junction, Victoria.
Panic had definitely set in for my friend and me at that point, evident by the death glare she gave me when we found space to be able to turn our heads and make eye contact, while she took the opportunity to inform me she was never agreeing to any of my crazy ideas again.
There were parts of this ‘beginners’ cave where we had to use our own bodies to bridge gaps across deep drops (into darkness, into ice-cold water).
There were parts where I think if I’d eaten a bigger breakfast I might have been wedged in place until a full team of rescue workers could get me out or until my food digested, whichever came first.
But perhaps what was almost equally as terrifying was when the not-so-caving-attire-appropriate corduroy pants of the Irish backpacker Damo, who was in front of me, split right down the length of his butt crack.
So, during the slow bits when we moved through tight tunnels like a human centipede, headlamps trained directly on the rear end of the person ahead of us — well, you get the picture.
While our nerves did eventually settle the longer we stayed underground and familiarised ourselves with our surroundings, I don’t think we truly relaxed the entire time we were down there.
We did delightedly spot glow worms and thankfully only a few (small 20-cent piece-sized) cave crickets, got a fantastic workout with all our squatting, lunging and pulling ourselves up, had a few refreshing ice baths, and came out with elbow and knee skin that was bound to be tougher once it healed up.
Move towards the light: Bree emerges from the cave back to ground level.
In the end we climbed out of the cave with broad smiles rather than the concern that covered our faces on the way in, but I think that was the first time we’d taken a full breath in a few hours.
And it was probably more a huge sigh of relief to be out of the grave, I mean cave.
My body told me the next day that I didn’t enjoy the experience, but it was lying.
While scary and challenging, it was just as thrilling and uncomfortable.
Discomfort is a great teacher — we can’t grow and learn if we’re always comfortable.
And even if the only thing I learned is that maybe I never want to head underground again until someone buries me when I’m dead, I still know that now.
If I’d never tried, I might have missed my calling without even knowing it.
The bruises will always fade, the scrapes will always heal, but the most important thing — the memories — will stay.
Head undergound
Where: Britannia Creek Caves, Yarra Junction
Entry cost: $99pp
Includes: Guide, park fees, safety equipment (helmets, lights) hire and caving gloves
Minimum age: 10 years
Maximum weight: 110kg and must be physically able to fit through some parts of the cave
Wear: Old clothes (take a change for afterwards) and closed toe footwear
Book: theadventuremerchants.com.au
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