With its narrow passages, winding waterways, and caverns adorned with stalagmites and stalactites, Cascade offers an ideal adventure for caving enthusiasts. However, for a novice explorer, it can quickly become an overwhelming experience.
The rain pours relentlessly, but Jason Storie remains undeterred as he prepares for a caving expedition with five companions, far from his home in Duncan on Canada’s remote Vancouver Island.
Dressed for the harsh weather and potential mishaps, he layers a T-shirt, sweatshirts, overalls, neoprene socks, a waterproof jacket, and sturdy rubber boots. Tucked under his arm is his prized new helmet and headlamp.
“Enjoy your sleep,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss his wife, Caroline Storie, goodbye.
“Take care,” she replies.
“Without fail,” he assures her.
It’s 6 a.m. on December 5, 2015. As a novice caver with only four expeditions under his belt, Jason is about to face his most challenging adventure yet: exploring Cascade Cave. The cave’s perilous nature is evident by a locked metal gate that bars entry, accessible only after signing a waiver. Spanning roughly a mile in length and plunging 338 feet deep, Cascade is a labyrinth of twists and narrow passages that could unsettle anyone with a fear of confined spaces. It’s one of many places globally that are off-limits to visitors.
Jason stands out in the group due to his minimal experience and being the eldest by over ten years. A robust father of two young children, he transitioned from a university drama graduate to an entrepreneur, owning a window-cleaning business. His introduction to caving came from his friend Andrew Munoz, 33, a seasoned caver and former guide, as well as a nimble paramedic equipped to handle emergencies.
Jason, Andrew, and two other friends—Adam Shepherd, another paramedic, and Zac Zorisky, a chef and volunteer firefighter—navigate the downpour to reach a log-cabin candy shop in Port Alberni to retrieve the key to the cave’s gate. There, they meet Matt Watson and Arthur Taylor, both software developers.
The group drives along a nondescript trail for half a mile before stopping in a clearing to review their gear: ropes, harnesses, and carabiners. They also carry two bags—one with a compact gas-powered Jetboil stove, provisions, water, and a medical kit, and the other with a Mylar “space” blanket that resembles aluminum foil.
After a short trek, they arrive at the cave entrance, a ground-level door easily overlooked unless sought after. At 10 a.m., they unlock the door and descend a shaky aluminum ladder into the abyss, each secured to a rope with carabiners. The last person to enter secures the door and attaches the key to the ladder’s base. Inside, the cool, damp air hovers around 41 degrees. Their headlamps illuminate the path ahead, a cramped corridor lined with sharp boulders. The quiet is punctuated by a consistent dripping sound that soon escalates to a steady trickle, and before long, they find themselves wading through water that rises from their ankles to their shins.
“Is everyone all right?” inquires Andrew, who has naturally assumed the role of the group’s guide.
The responses echo back affirmatively.
“Yes.”
“Indeed.”
“All good here.”
Roughly 45 minutes into their journey, Adam declares he can’t proceed; a prior back injury is causing discomfort. The relentless stooping has become unbearable. Matt accompanies him back to the entrance to facilitate his exit. After securing the entrance once more, Matt returns to the four companions who await him.
Over the next hour and a half, they fully embrace their roles as adventurers, methodically navigating the cave’s contrasting terrains: narrow, tube-like tunnels that snugly accommodate an adult, and expansive chambers reminiscent of a cathedral’s central aisle, grand yet not oppressive. They maintain a maximum distance of a hundred feet between the lead and the last person, regrouping in the spacious chambers after navigating the more demanding narrow passages and ascents.
Jason marvels at the environment. Andrew had once enlightened him, “Vancouver Island is home to over a thousand caves and tunnels, each one unique.” Indeed, Cascade presents a spectacle unlike any he has previously encountered.
They soon reach a distinctive feature of the cave: a constricted corridor too cramped to stand upright in, descending into a brief, narrow slope.
This section is known as Bastard’s Crawl, where four streams converge, causing the water to flow with increased velocity.
“Time for a crab-walk!” Andrew instructs.
After traversing Bastard’s Crawl, they arrive at the brink of a waterfall dubbed Double Trouble, so called because a protruding rock bifurcates the stream. They prepare their ropes for a 50-foot rappel. Clambering for grip on the slick rock faces with booted feet and gloved hands, they descend as the water splits around the rock, cascading into a frothy pool below. It’s clear why this cave bears the name Cascade.
As Jason makes his descent, his pulse races so fiercely that it seems poised to escape his chest. This is the heightened challenge you sought, he reminds himself. And now, it’s here.
Moments after navigating past Double Trouble, the group halts for a brief meal. The time is nearing 1 p.m., marking three hours since their subterranean journey began. Andrew activates the Jetboil, concocting a hearty stew of beef, chicken, and rice. Following their 20-minute repast, the quintet resumes their trek, wriggling and inching closer to the cave’s terminus, a mere quarter mile distant. However, after advancing just 300 feet, Zac is seized by intense shivers. Despite the unaltered temperature, the cave’s chill can strike with little warning. Unanimously, they opt to retreat as one.
They begin their return journey. Matt leads the way, followed by Arthur, then Jason, Zac, and Andrew. The sound of water intensifies, becoming a cacophony. The mud, more abundant than before, clings to their boots. The ascent is arduous, significantly slower than their descent. “Watch out!” warns a voice from the front.
Approaching 2:15 p.m., they near Double Trouble, where the once steady stream has transformed into a tumultuous white torrent. Jason ponders the sudden change—could it be the rain’s aftermath?
Matt secures himself to the rope left at Double Trouble’s summit and begins the ascent. It’s a mere 50 feet, yet the task demands meticulous effort: finding footholds on wet ledges, grasping with gloved hands, searching for the next step. Reaching the top, he sends the rope down for Arthur, then Jason. At the crest, Jason lies flat, inching up Bastard’s Crawl against the forceful current. The icy water buffets his face.
Breaking free from the crawl, Jason halts, confronted by a forked path. The others are out of sight, and the cramped space allows for only one. He resolves to backtrack for guidance.
As he crab-walks back, a sudden rush of water flips him, submerging him. Water pressure mounts behind him. He must escape quickly or be ejected violently over Double Trouble. But his boot is wedged, immobilizing him between the rocks.
Pinned on his back and overwhelmed by the torrent, he attempts to shout for assistance but finds himself desperately struggling for breath. What feels like an eternity is actually just five minutes. Visions of his loved ones flicker through his mind—a vivid collage he clings to: Caroline, his partner of 16 years who had cautioned him that very morning; Jack, his five-year-old son with a passion for aircraft; and Poppy, his cherished three-year-old daughter.
Zac, having ascended before Jason, is now positioned at the summit of Double Trouble. He calls out to Andrew below, “Jason’s in a bind!”
Andrew swiftly scales up after Zac and positions himself at the base of the crawl. “Lift your head, Jase,” he shouts to his friend. The water obscures his view of Jason’s face. Jason is mere feet away, yet his precarious situation and the confined space make it difficult for Andrew to extract him. “Keep moving, buddy. Towards me! Keep your head up!” Jason struggles. “Brace your feet against me! Hoist yourself up and let yourself float. You’ve got this, Jase!”
Jason’s hands, sheathed in gloves, break through the surface, followed by his drenched face. He’s gasping for air, akin to hiccups. “My leg’s trapped,” he articulates, his voice distorted and sluggish, unrecognizable to himself. He attempts to free his boot, but it remains immovable.
“It’s going to be alright, man,” Andrew reassures, delving into the swift current, searching for the ensnared boot. He feels something substantial. “Is this the one?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, we got ourselves in a jam. OK, we’ll do this together.”
Twenty minutes after getting stuck, Jason emerges from Bastard’s Crawl like a baby being birthed, wet through, eyes shut tight, and gasping. Andrew settles him on a narrow ledge inches above the water. Jason, his eyes now wide open and looking bewildered, knows he had a close escape.
“You’re OK,” Andrew says, grasping his shoulders. “Zac, stay with Jason while I get the supply bags up ahead.”
It takes him about 15 minutes. On his return, Andrew tells Zac the water is still rising, so he should join Matt and Arthur just beyond Bastard’s Crawl. “I have to get Jason warmed up before we try to get out,” he says. “If we don’t catch up to you in 30 minutes, notify Search and Rescue.”
Andrew’s concern for Jason’s hypothermia goes unvoiced, as the latter’s shivering has ceased, a sign of the body’s severe chill. Swiftly, Andrew envelops Jason in the Mylar blanket and ignites the Jetboil, channeling warmth into Jason’s attire with hot water. Gradually, Jason’s natural complexion begins to reemerge.
“Good to have you back, pal. Are you up for making our exit now?”
They embark on the hour-long ascent to the cave’s entrance, battling against the relentless deluge. The water seems to be an adversary, pressing against them, attempting to thwart their progress.
As they approach the culmination of the crawl, the space for air narrows alarmingly, leaving a scant four inches between the rising water and the cave’s ceiling, scarcely enough to draw breath.
“It’s become too treacherous!” Andrew shouts. “We need to head back!”
Jason notices a ledge; despite the wall’s challenging 45-degree slant, it offers just enough space for both of them. Andrew positions himself in front of Jason, shielding him from the water’s onslaught, his legs wedged against a protrusion on the opposite side of the cascade.
As the water level ascends, nearing the ledge, its intense power generates a gust of wind. The men are aware that caves create their own weather systems, and trapped with no exit, the wind emits a haunting howl. The time is 6 p.m., and they are situated approximately 200 feet below the surface. Zac had parted ways with them three hours prior. They draw close under a blanket, seeking warmth. The Jetboil, now depleted of fuel, offers no solace.
Jason quips with a hint of irony, “If we don’t make it out, our spouses are going to be furious with us!”
In an effort to preserve their headlamp batteries, they remain seated in near-total darkness, momentarily distracting themselves from the confining space around them.
Jason taps into his acting background, consciously slowing his breath, guiding it from his diaphragm to the top of his head. He lifts his sweatshirt over his nose, seeking warmth for his face, while his thoughts drift to his family and the extent of his life insurance policy.
Meanwhile, Andrew mentally recites a mantra inspired by a quote from the science fiction classic “Dune”: “Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
Uncertainty looms over them; there’s no indication of a rescue team. They ponder the fate of their three companions. Perhaps they’re trapped on the other side of Bastard’s Crawl, injured or worse.
Unbeknownst to Jason and Andrew, their friends have successfully escaped and summoned help. Around 9 p.m., the Ground and Cave Search and Rescue teams arrived and ventured into the cave. However, the rising water levels and its intensity compelled them to withdraw. They would have to attempt a rescue later.
Time wears on, with Jason and Andrew remaining motionless, wary of the risk of falling. They occasionally succumb to sleep, only to startle themselves back to alertness, and they maintain a routine of mutual reassurance every 20 minutes.
“Are you still holding up?” Andrew asks.
“Absolutely. How about you?”
“Still here,” Andrew replies.
Periodically, they activate their headlamps to check the water’s height. By 5 a.m., it appears to be subsiding. “Let’s hold on a moment longer and observe,” suggests Andrew.
An hour passes, and the water has receded sufficiently for them to keep their heads above it and contemplate an escape. After remaining stationary for 12 hours, they gingerly stretch out, with Jason crying out from the pain of a strained groin muscle. Yet, he’s resolute in not letting it hinder him.
Their sole focus is to navigate Bastard’s Crawl on hands and knees. Despite the agony each movement brings, Andrew’s encouragement rings clear: “You’ve got this.” And then, they’ve conquered it.
For the next hour and a half, they edge closer to the cave’s entrance, wading through water that reaches their chests at times. In a taller corridor, Jason spots a glimmer in the distance.
“There! Lights!” he exclaims, hastening forward. Voices soon reach them.
“Hello,” they shout. “We’re over here!”
“Andrew? Jason?” A rescuer’s voice calls out.
Overwhelmed by relief, after more than 20 hours since their descent, tears stream down Jason’s face. “We’ve survived.”
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