Mrs Susan Hooper writes:

The first weekend back in September saw 23 happy boarders and accompanying staff heading out on an afternoon of bright sunshine into the Yorkshire Dales National Park. Our coach was bound for the White Scar Caves at Ingleton. 

Hailed as the longest caves in Britain the children knew they were in for a special treat. For some it was their first proper foray into the English countryside. Excited chatter on board, the reassuring chink of pocket money stowed away and cameras at the ready the mood was set. A picturesque landscape of fields patterned with dry stone walls set against the magnificent sweep of steep-sided glaciated limestone valleys threaded with rivers unfolded.

Our friendly and enthusiastic female guide welcomed us with a smile and, on her instructions, hard hats were donned. Cramming heads of tousled hair into such unfamiliar headgear made us all laugh. Warm jumpers also came out. Expertly our crocodile of children and staff were led underground into the first of the cool, illuminated passageways. And it was cool too – a constant 8*C.  

Caves carved out some 15000 years ago also took some getting used to. Pausing to photograph a natural waterfall, beautifully lit, our first port of call was a tableau scene representing the discovery of the caves in 1923 with a full size model of Christopher Long, crawling along a fissure clad only in the light summer walking clothes of the period and using candles set in the brim of his hat to see his way by. Out came the cameras again. Everywhere the sound of rushing water filled the caves. The boys, in particular, imitated intrepid explorers as they moved confidently over the streams on perforated metallic walkways, dodging the low overhanging rock ceiling. A real sensation of walking on water!

As the crocodile proceeded we heard the knocks of hard helmets making contact with particularly low roof overhangs. Fossils of ancient marine creatures were indicated and eagerly fingered. Stalactites and stalagmites were marvelled over – some  strange shaped ones bearing intriguing names e.g. the Crown of Thorns and the Judges Head.

The children trailed their fingers through icy cold pools of water. They bent low to peer at the disappearing vista of a subterranean lake – which led who knows where. At some points a soaring roof with unfathomable and mysterious shafts that disappeared into the void left us overawed. 

How was all this made – our guide let us into the secrets with a smile. Surely the piece de resistance had to be the magnificent, roomy Battlefield Cavern. Had the great boulders which lay strewn  around us been the stuff of some staggering, prehistoric battle scene – such speculation was fuelled by the imagination of our guide and our willingness to believe it - a scene of mighty deeds. A multitude of delicate straw-like stalactites glowed in an eerie light when the cave was cast into darkness. The craggy outline of the wicked witch, accompanied by  her spindly and hungry cat devouring his mouse,  jumped out at us when she played her torchlight on the ceiling. A witch with a custodial role… it was fitting that we met with her in her gloomy abode. We were after all her guests, in some strange sense of the word.

Well, our visit proved to be the success we hoped.  If we needed further convincing what about the drama of witnessing the arrival of the North West Ambulance helicopter which landed in the car park as we drew out of it. What a wind its rotary blades created and what an end to the best of days.