We emerged from the cornfield into a huge pasture dead ahead and a magnificent forest to our right. Just a few hundred yards in front of us, I could see several small clusters of trees, like little forested islands. In fact, I can still remember there were four of them, in a row, each one perhaps a hundred yards from the next. “You see that fourth cluster? That’s it.” Hotard said.
From a distance, it looked like nothing. I was crestfallen. I was hoping for more. “That’s it?” I asked skeptically. “Just wait,” Hotard grinned. We came to the edge of the copse of trees and sure enough, Steve was spot on. We’d come across a sink hole; it was about 100 feet wide and maybe 40 feet deep. At the very bottom of this steep but easily descended slope (we were 12), we saw a horizontal limestone ledge. It was perhaps 15 or 20 feet wide and at the opening, no more than four feet high. At the time I was barely four feet high, so I didn’t even have to bend over. Dutton was the gangly member of our spelunking team, but all he needed to do was duck a bit.
It was very much a living cave. Water was flowing through it, coming from a source north (or to the left of us). But the opening in that direction was too narrow for any of us, even me, to enter. None of us had expected the water, but we didn’t care. We turned on our flashlights, sloshed through the water in our tennis shoes, and ventured into the darkness