On an iron-barred gate set into the rock, a small piece of paper had been posted with only a phone number written on it. I called the number from my flip phone, and after a while, a sleepy-looking old man appeared and opened the gate for us. Inside was a cave. We followed the old man as he showed us the prehistoric paintings left on the rock wall. It was a small painting, less than one meter square, and without the old man pointing it out, I probably would have missed it. My friends were delighted, letting out little cries of wonder. As for me, strangely, I felt nothing at all. If anything, I felt disappointed. What I remember most vividly is how disappointed I felt in myself for not being able to share everyone else’s excitement.
I remembered that long-ago experience because, the other day, I joined a cave exploration event with my children.
It was, of course, a guided event, and the cave itself was small, but it turned out to be far more fun than I had expected.
We crossed a river, listened to the sound of running water, stepped on damp earth, pushed through the bushes, and after a short climb, reached the entrance to the cave. One by one, we slid in from the entrance over the rocks and landed in an open space below. The air was cool and damp. Once everyone had gathered, the guide explained how the cave was formed, as well as its geological layers and minerals. I was itching to move farther inside. Perhaps my children are just as curious as I am, because we were always the ones walking at the front of the group.
After squeezing through a tight passage, we emerged into another open space and waited there for everyone else. There was one large, rather heavyset man in the group, and it seems he got stuck along the way. With the guide’s help, he somehow managed to make it through.
Next, those who wanted to could challenge themselves to an even deeper, narrower, and tougher route. My children and I raised our hands without hesitation. Because the space was small, we proceeded two or three at a time. The challenge was to reach what looked like a dead end, climb up to a hole in the rock on the right, at about my height, and crawl through it.
The heavyset man said out loud, “I’m not doing it.” Of course, I thought it would probably be impossible for him, but he did not complain or make a fuss about wanting his money back. The way he humbly gave up on his own felt somehow very Portuguese, and I found it endearing.
Or perhaps he had simply decided not to do it because of the fear he felt after getting stuck between the rocks. Or maybe he gave in to the pressure, as the guide kept repeating something along the lines of, “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. Only those who want to should try.”
Then it was my turn. The footing in the narrow passage was slick and slippery, but I made it smoothly to the dead end. The guide lifted half of my body and helped me into the hole. From there, I had to crawl through on my stomach. Being thin, I felt as if I might drop straight into the narrow crack at the bottom, and I could tell the guide behind me was nervously trying to move my feet to one side of the crack. I tried digging in with my toes and kicking against the ground, but the mud on my shoes made me slip, and I could not move forward. In the end, I had no choice but to push forward with sheer determination, bracing myself on my elbows.
When I came out of the hole, the heavyset man was there. Since he had not been able to experience the final climax himself, I reached out my hand toward him, hoping he could at least feel that we had shared something together. With a serious look on his face, he caught me and helped me down from the hole.
Just before we left the cave, we were told to turn off the lights on our helmets. When the last person switched off their light, we were wrapped in a kind of blackness I had never experienced before. What was I looking at? Was I seeing nothing at all? It was so dark that I could not even tell whether my eyes were open or closed.
It felt as if my own existence had disappeared, leaving only my consciousness behind.
Inside the cave, it felt as though time itself had stopped.
When we stepped out of the exit, piercing sunlight and lukewarm air welcomed us back.
