The park had a trip planned for an intermediate adventure cave called Stonehorse and we were in.
After a brief trek through the jungle, we were briefed at the opening on safety.
This is where I really appreciate the excessive regulation and litigious society in which we live.
Our briefing involved being handed a helmet and a rope.
The guide then breezed through how to tie your OWN harness... yep, we tied our very own harness with a piece of rope, the harness that would shortly be preventing you from tumbling forever into the pit of despaaaaaiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Derick the nutty South African, decided that Asics hot pants was appropriate spelunking attire.
I think he thought spelunking involved glitter and house music.
Regardless, he insisted on demonstrating the proper way in which to strap on the harness.
This gap was a good 15 m or 45 ft down... no harness required on this one, just hold the rope silly.
I turned around and saw this monster before I could say a word to Heather.
And yes, I know, I had time to take the photo, but not scream out to Heather... I am a bad bad husband.
Our guide did not make my life easier, when he casually mentioned that this was a deadly poisonous cave centipede.
I attempted to reconstruct it, basically tying it around my waist.
Heather was not happy, and told the guide, who in turn looked at me squarely in the eye and said 'If you feel good about it, then it is ok"...
Peering into the aforementioned pit of despaaaaiiiirrrrrrr....
Heather was amazing, muscling up, down and across all kinds of gnarly gaps and obstacles.
We finished, covered in sweat, mud and a touch of blood, relived that no lawyers had to be called.
The new crew, bonded over the shared experience of serious spelunking and watching Derick's crotch for 2 hours.
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