www.roanoke.com

Caving is an avid pastime for an enthusiastic group of adventurers in our area. To find out more, I got in touch with Virginia Tech's grotto, which put me in touch with David Colatosti, who offered to escort me.

Colatosti drove me to the home of another caver who keeps the logbook. For safety reasons, cavers always log in and out so someone will know where to look for them if they don't return on time. There we met Carrie Blankenship, who would join us.

We drove north into Giles County and parked near Sinking Creek. As we prepared, Colatosti asked me, "Are you claustrophobic?"

I said, "We'll see."

We climbed a small embankment where Colatosti unlocked the gate, and we descended into the earth. The initial maneuver was a contortionist's dream, steep and confining, but a mere precursor to what was to come.

As I came to my feet in the first underground chamber, I stumbled about adjusting to the uneven floor and the utter absence of natural light. I never fully regained my footing because maneuvering in the cave felt like scrambling over an endless muddy rock pile with a roof over top. At the edge of the chamber Colatosti dropped to hands and knees and disappeared through a triangular crack perhaps 18 inches tall. I peered ahead to where he had gone, thinking there was no way I could fit through. Nevertheless, I edged lizard-style until I reached an obstruction that I tried unsuccessfully to wiggle around. The ceiling was no more than 2 inches from my eyelids. I had to retreat, strip my jacket and finally was able to squeeze through.

We made our way through a series of rooms, each with fabulous monuments and columns of mineral deposits. Caves are devoid of wind, rain or temperature fluctuations, are perpetually dark and are mysterious links to pre-history. The occasional bat, no bigger than a rabbit's foot key chain, hung from the wall as motionless as the stalactites. The going was always difficult, continually weaving and scrambling through and over obstructions. In one area we were walking down a corridor with a stream where water poured into our shoes. We rested in the dark in a large room amid echoes of tripping water.

Blankenship said, "I grew up on the family farm near Narrows. I started caving with my friend April when we were teenagers. I'm 27 years old now. At one time in my life, I was caving almost every weekend, but then life happened."

Colatosti is 40 years old and works as an electrical engineer for a Blacksburg company. He said, "I came to Tech for college from Connecticut, and I never wanted to go back again. I've been caving 20-plus years. One of the motivators for me is that I've been to places that no one else has ever been since time began; it's an incredible feeling. Caving has helped me connect with this area."

"It really made an impression on me," Blankenship said, "when we were exploring a cave right in my back yard. For years I had known it was there, but I never imagined that we would chart over three miles in that cave. Knowing all that beauty was there and that I was one of the few people on Earth who had ever seen it were amazing to me. People always say that once you come here you never want to leave. I think this is the most beautiful place on Earth.

"People who have been living here and doing this for a long time take this for granted. A lot of people we meet in cave clubs from other areas are amazed when they visit us, because they have nowhere near the riches we have here. There are probably hundreds of caves within a 30-mile radius of my home in Narrows.

"Sometimes caves can be a little creepy. When you're waiting for somebody and you hear the gurgling water echoing off the walls you can envision voices in them. I never like to be the last one to climb out. I am convinced that there are creatures that live in the cave. In my mind's eye, it's a white wolf. When I get tired and I'm breathing heavily and I'm sweating a lot, I can see the steam roll off me. When I see the steam, in my mind's eye it takes the form of this wolf. When I see the white wolf it is time for me to leave. I guess the white wolf is the lord of the underworld."

We scrambled around for a while longer exploring other passages and rooms. When we emerged into the night sky, I was exhausted.

Michael Abraham grew up in Christiansburg and lives in Blacksburg. He keeps doing the things his mother warned him against.