For a few years in the late 1970s, I worked full-time with an Alabama cover band with my friend and mentor Bobby D. We played regularly at hotel bars in several states, usually six nights per week. We once had a multi-week gig at a Fairmont, West Virginia hotel lounge. On a Sunday (our free day), we visited Laurel Caverns in nearby Pennsylvania.
Laurel Caverns is a reasonably big cave. It was a somewhat “tame” cave, there was a walking path, and no strenuous climbing was required. Part of the cave had electric lights and was quite impressive. At the bottom of this area was a section with no electric lights. Five of us decided to explore the dark part of the cave. We had flashlights plus a box of candles. The candles were dinner candles about a foot long, maybe the diameter of a nickel. We had no food, drink, or extra batteries. We thought we were ready.
Minutes into the trek, Bobby D dropped and broke our best flashlight. We forged ahead with less light and crossed paths with groups of well-prepared people (who had much better flashlights). Maybe two hours later, deep in the cave, our flashlights began to dim. We turned back, though we didn’t know where we were going. The cave branched several times, we took wrong turns and were soon lost. We hoped to find other people but didn’t. As our last flashlight burned out, we lit the candles and kept searching for the exit. We weren’t worried about dying; the cave employees promised to find (rescue?) us if we weren’t out by closing time. Still, none of us wanted to hang around in the dark down there.
Several dead ends later, the group mood was way down. The candle I was holding was almost gone, and there was melted wax on my arm to the elbow. We were minutes away from being in the black when faint light appeared ahead, which thankfully came from the entrance to the lighted part of the cave.
The group mood swung from despair to euphoria as we walked into the light. I felt an intense sense of relief, spared from being lost in the darkness. We hurried out of Laurel Caverns and drove back to our safe hotel rooms in Fairmont.
I haven’t been inside a cave since that day, and I don’t have the urge to visit one now.