‘In 2007, Edmond Bell discovered the entrance to a cave network on his land and, despite a lot of good advice from a number of reasonable people, he decided to map the cave with nothing but a flashlight, a daypack, and enough rope that he could tie it off at the surface and find his way back as necessary. This worked for a week or so, by which time he was able to report that the cave moved gradually downward without branching for as far as his rope would take him. Bell paused for a week to order more rope and to devise a reel-like system to release it so that he could ‘safely’ carry on past his current dead end. He entered the cave on June 23rd and has not resurfaced. The cave system has been gated. Stern signage recounts an abridged version of this same story, using it as a case study for adventurous stupidity. Edmond Bell is most likely dead, after all.
But.
But the thing is, Bell’s reel is still turning at the same slow pace that might indicate a determined man’s trudging steadily forward into the dark. It stops at night, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes for a full eight, but it always picks up again, churning rope into the cave. You’re asking, couldn’t it be a quirk of nature? A body dragged along by some underground river? A trick of heat and wind? A hoax, even- a separate reel deep inside that eats up the slack?
Could be. Sure.
You’re asking now about this seemingly infinite supply of rope. That’s the special draw of this destination. Visitors bring rope to add to the reel so that Edmond Bell, whatever’s left of him, doesn’t get stuck on his journey into the earth.’
Hector and I arrive at ‘Edmond’s Reel’ around three in the afternoon with a length of rope I picked up special from a hardware store half an hour down the road. The woman there asked if I was going out to ‘Edmond’s Reel’ and gave me a skeptical look when I told her I was. I haven’t decided, yet, whether the skepticism was in response to my buying the cheapest length of rope that could support the weight of an adult man, or a broad skepticism regarding the whole enterprise.
These things still nag at me, even this far down the road.
‘Edmond’s Reel’ isn’t turning when I arrive but it groans to life after a few moments, as though whatever tugged the rope had been taking a breather. A sign nearby, likely placed there by the Rangers, details the use of the additional reel, which has been erected anonymously and allows for visitors to add line without interrupting the feed from ‘Edmond’s.’ The instructions are simple but I’ve never been very good with rope, so it takes me a while to get everything tied together and spun.
When I turn back around I see that ‘Edmond’s Reel’ has halted again and it’s a full minute before I realize his line has disappeared between the bars, severed from the creaking contraption that kept him anchored for over a decade. I rush to the entrance of the cave and watch the rope pull into the thick shadows beyond the gate. It disappears without a sound.
When I turn, I find Hector nibbling idly at the length of rope now drooping from ‘Edmond’s Reel.’ He stares back, daring me to point a finger, claiming, with innocent rabbit eyes, that the rope pulled loose on its own and he’s only making the best of a difficult situation.
I wonder, though. These things nag at me, even this far down the road.
-traveler
