Hello, and welcome to the GhostOfClayton twice-fortnightly blog. Are you sitting comfortably? Then I shall begin.

Sorry, nothing Roman this week. There's been a lot of talk (2 comments to my knowledge, which constitutes 'a lot' for the purposes of this blog entry) on UNRV Forum recently about Bucket Lists. For those of you who, like myself, thought the phrase Bucket List had something to do with cheap last-minute flights, it isn't. It is, apparently, a list of things you feel you should do before you kick the bucket.

So welcome to GhostOfClayton's Bucket list:

Firstly, I'll make one thing clear. I'm not going to list anything that's in any way sexual. I'm 46 (or is it 47?), overweight, gray-haired, and above all, married. So any bucket items I may, or may not, have in THAT part of my list are never going to happen anyway. They have been removed. Sorry. Anyway, if you're a man reading this, then rest assured that mine are probably pretty much in line with yours, and if you're a woman reading this, you're probably better off not knowing what men have on THAT part of their list.

I digress.

Visit Rome and other Roman sites too numerous to mention here

Do a parachute drop

Do a bungee jump

Have a go at Wing-walking

To go down a pothole

To walk from Land�s End John O'Groats

To go into space (not quite so remote a possibility now that Virgin Galactic is one step closer to becoming an operational service)

To climb Snowdon and Ben Nevis

Many, many more

So why am I telling you this now? On Friday, I completed one of the above items. You could say I 'Ticked the Bucket'. Myself and a colleague went with an experienced caver down a pothole (aptly named Crackpot) in Swaledale in the Yorkshire Dales. What an experience! It started with a drive up a narrow lane in the dark (it was about 6:30pm by the time we got there) up to the moor high above Swaledale. We then parked up, and changed into our caving gear, and walked the half mile down to the pothole. The entrance (on a narrow ledge on a cliff) was just above where a watercourse emerged from the cliff and plummeted the rest of the way to the bottom. This must have been a very impressive waterfall if it were light enough to see..

The entrance itself, was just wide enough to lower yourself through (feet first) down into what our guide called a 'chamber'. In reality, it was just big enough to get your feet round and behind you to start on the real hardship - the infamous, and aptly name 'Knee-wrecker Passage'. This is a 250m passage that is used to gain access to the main cave cut by the watercourse I mentioned earlier. Our guide had said we would have to crawl along it. Not so! It was too low to get my behind high enough to crawl, so I had to almost slither, and any attempt to raise my head to look forward resulted in a sharp bang as my helmet connected with the ceiling of the passage.

So, 250m of slithering over rocks, and dragging my belly through muddy puddles - you can imagine how slow the going is, and so how long it took. If anyone out there has even the slightest hint of claustrophobia, I strongly advise you not to attempt this - you would freak out - especially with the thought that you have to come back this way, and turning round is out of the question.

But eventually, we reached the end of Knee-wrecker Passage and reached the watercourse. Joy of joys . . . we could stand up! Wow! As I admired the stark beauty around me, I almost thought it was worth the descent into the outer circle of Hell that was Knee-Wrecker Passage. A forest of small (and very fragile looking) straw-stalactites hung precariously from the ceiling, and had clearly done so for possibly hundreds, if not thousands of years, and all around were weird and wonderful rock formations, illuminated only part at any given time by our helmet lamps. The water flowed surprisingly slowly out of the darkness in front of us, and away into the darkness behind us, an oozing river of impenetrable blackness, just like I imagine the River Styx. You could pass the time by pretending you were inside the intestine of a giant, alien creature.

Of course, the water took up the whole of the bottom of the cave, so much of the rest of our journey would be spent wading along it. Thus far, the effort had kept our body temperatures relatively high, but now, we had to bite the bullet and get into the water. . . and it was cooooold. After a while, however, a combination of concentration on avoiding underwater obstacles, and the awe-inspiring beauty all around, enabled me to take my mid off the temperature . . at least until the freezing water became deep enough to cover my "gentleman's area". That was difficult to ignore!

There is an unexpected problem to overcome in a cave. Imagine yourself outside on a cold day. Now imagine yourself breathing out. A misty vapour is exhaled, and swirls lazily away all around you. Same thing happens in a cave, except in the absolute windless conditions, this vapour stays concentrated right in front of your face. Right where it's illuminated by your helmet light. It becomes a real hazard to visibility. After a while, you learn to exhale to the side.

So, after almost half an hour of wading, we reached a side passage that lead away to the left. A bit of a squeeze in places, but still walkable, and this lead to a proper chamber, about 10 to 15 metres across, and circular with a domed roof. Stalactites, stalagmites, the lot. Stunning.

I won't tell you about the way back - it was a reverse of the way in. And I was so glad to emerge into the moonlit dale, wet through, and very cold. After a climb back to the car, the next challenge started. To remove all (and I mean all) the wet clothes, towel myself dry, and put dry clothes back on. All in darkness on a bleak and freezing moorside. It all added to the adventure!

Weekly Stuff

105 days until "The Eagle of the Ninth"

Asterix Book of the Week: Asterix and The Roman Agent