Rob Hall reports on a very unusual book-signing event deep under Swaledale, and reviews “Rescued?” by Emmy Hoyes.
On a visit to Kirkby Stephen one Easter, I recollect a member of the local Mountain Rescue Team lamenting the number of callouts during the winter that had been caused by “satnav on; brain off” events. The main A66 Bowes Moor trunk road across the Pennines had been shut by deep and drifting snow and some motorists decided instead to use the steep and winding minor roads past the Tan Hill Inn. This hostelry is so windswept that it was famously the setting for advertisements for Everest(TM) double glazing featuring that zenith of nominative determinism – Ted Moult – dropping feathers behind the windows of the inn to show the benefits of draught-proofing. At an altitude of 526 metres overlooking the A66 at Stainmore, using that route as a winter weather alternative was never going to end well and a series of rescues by the MRT ensued.
Further nearby “satnav on; brain off” events occurred in the spring and summer of 2006 on the Swaledale side of the Tan Hill Inn pass. Satnavs choosing optimal routes between Swaledale and Wensleydale selected a route that goes along progressively more minor roads through a tiny hamlet and then through a gate onto an unsurfaced track that winds steeply up to the top of a 100ft limestone cliff, before the surface deteriorates further. In this case, the local MRT was not called out, but local farmers were reported to deploy their tractors on a weekly basis to drag cars off boulders while larger vehicles struggled to turn around once the nature of the route became apparent. The need for satnavs to be reprogrammed was widely reported in national newspapers under various headlines incorporating the rather appropriate name of the hamlet; Crackpot.
On the evening of 5 August a combined team of Kent Underground Research Group, Shropshire Caving and Mining Club and Wealden Cave and Mine Society members prodded their satnavs into life and went in a convoy of vehicles from Low Row bunkhouse to Crackpot. The ultimate destination was Crackpot Cave, where Pete Roe, a member of Swaledale Mountain Rescue Team (“SMRT”) has an ongoing dig and had made plain his hope for some extra muscle to move some rocks around. Whatever our satnavs said, our convoy stopped beside the track immediately beyond the gate and we switched into caving gear to make the ascent. At the top we met Pete with his trusty ancient Landrover and fellow members of SMRT: Tony, Emmy and Mary, the latter being Pete’s collie dog. Pete bore gifts: bags of cement, scaffolding clamps and other digging material for us to carry to the dig face. These thoughtful presents were in due course to be augmented by further ballast in the form of bags of sand: how kind.
The route to the cave started with a descent down the side of a limestone crag with a resurgence of a stream at the foot, somewhat reminiscent of a miniature Malham Cove. The entrance to the cave is a small hole in the foot of the crag that gives access to what is known to its few friends as the “Kneewrecker”: an entrance series of zig-zagging low grovels over polished rocks in cold puddles. Nothing at all difficult and irritatingly easily negotiated by a collie dog, but certainly tiresome when encumbered by bags. While traversing this we contemplated what we had seen at the entrance; a nicely produced wooden sign pointing into the cave with the message “Book Signing”. At this point, our expectation was that this was one of those caves with a visitors’ book somewhere suitably inconvenient beyond the entrance series. However, no visitors’ book materialised beyond the crawl: just a well-decorated streamway. At an apparently robust stalactite/stalagmite column, Pete recounted how the base on which it stood had had to be rebuilt dry-stone walling-style after recent floods had eroded the streamway. A small climb to a parallel passage then led up to a significant chamber with straws and many small bosses, giving it its name of “Field of Turnips”. When it grows up, this chamber might become an alternative to Otter Hole’s “Hall of Thirty”.
It was now that the mystery of the sign was solved; Emmy had written a book entitled “Rescued?” that was “inspired by” events at SMRT and this was being sold in aid of SMRT funds. She had dragged a bag of copies through the Kneewrecker and these were the subject of the book signing. It was certainly a venue that differed from the traditional environs of Hay-on-Wye accompanied by wine and canapes, or even Waterstones with tea and biscuits. It also necessitated cash payments (waterproof notes preferred), as it appeared that she had omitted to obtain a card reader suitable for subterranean use. Nevertheless, I and others obtained copies – but on the condition that she carried it back out on the basis that only she had a bag suitable for the conveyance of such an item.
There then ensued about 90 minutes of significant effort as large rocks, many showing signs of being persuaded to become slightly smaller by means of vigorous chemical and mechanical processes, were rolled away from the dig face by our chain gang. Apart from the basic problems of large heavy rocks in confined spaces partly filled with water, a further hazard was the ear-splitting barking of Mary who regarded each rock as a potential ball to chase and was perpetually disappointed by their inability to bounce.
A rather more tired, but lightly-loaded, party traversed the Kneewrecker and exited to face the midges on the trudge back towards Crackpot enroute to the more appealing midge-free surrounds of the Black Bull in Reeth.
And the book? It is a series of short, amusing stories; fictional(ish), but not so far removed from Pete Roe’s accounts of travails in the area. Fiction based on fact has form here: Swaledale is the core of “James Heriot Country”, with the books of the eponymous vet being loosely related to real events, people and places. It certainly gives the sense that SMRT have more fun than other rescue teams. For example; a deliberately disjointed account of events following a truck crashing and dumping its load of naked female mannequins into the River Swale and triggering a rash of well-intentioned callouts could not be mimicked in, for example, the Mole Valley, in Surrey. That chapter might have more fiction about it than some of the others, but there is much here that rings bells as a wry take on events at a busy MRT/CRO. And certainly, the volume has proved a pleasant way to while away the time awaiting trains.
Copies may be obtained via other subterranean book signing events or, for the more sensible, at outlets around Swaledale or on Amazon (including a Kindle version). Some proceeds of each sale are for the benefit of SMRT which conducts rescues in the Swaledale area both underground and on the hills.
Somewhat bizarrely, a further account of this evening, together with photos, can be found on the pages of “The Bookseller” and “Richmondshire Today” journals.
“Rescued?” can be purchased online via Amazon.
Rescued? author Emmy Hoyle, 2024. ISBN 9798321394632 softback A5 252pp.
Report and Review by Rob Hall
