We’ve only ever been to one other
Wardandi Country cave together—Calgardup.
While there we were given
entry to Giants Cave as well.

These two are run by state government.
The rest are privately run.
(Though, we’re told, there are about
a hundred others too.)

As we’re getting the briefing
I have a vague memory
of being told
that this cave is more full on
than the rest.

Tight climbs up vertical ladders.
87 metres below ground.
95 percent humidity.
Points of no turning back.

As we head down
I begin to feel the weight
of all that earth above me.

But then I try bring in some 
of the light of the whole Earth—
of the whole human being—
into this darkness.

From this point on,
the weight of the earth
doesn’t bother me.
Even down here I feel buoyant.

At one point we turn off our headlights.
Eyes open or closed, the darkness
is still the same.

We pass through the tight squeezes
between limestone and calcite quartz
on vertical ladders. 
We pass under overhangs,
crawling.
We climb over sections 
where the path isn’t clear—
where there are only chains
and drops back
down ladder shafts.
We slide down wet sections 
on our backsides
tightly gripping ropes.

And finally we scramble,
after having to kill a couple of marchflies,
back towards the windows and doorway 
of light at the far end,
crawling over
the final steps,
and slinking through the tiny 
backdoorway, more gnome-like
than we left, maybe,
but also more human;
more connected to the darkness;
more connected to the earth;
more connected to the light.