Amidst the Rays of Light: Stephen’s Gap
“Oh man, we should ask Oliver about those caves he did when was down this way,” I said to my friend Charlie, who had joined me for a trip back to my hometown of Chattanooga, Tennessee where we had planned to climb, golf, spend time on the river, and just enjoy the outdoors in general.
Rain was in the forecast, and the rock at the local crags would likely be soaked until the afternoon. Our time in Tennessee was winding down, and the pressure to fill our last days with fun was building. That’s when I remembered Tennessee, Alabama, and Georgia, aka the TAG region of caving, is home to the most concentrated amount of underground explorations in the country.
After some phone calls, and getting put in touch with the local “grotto”, or caving club, we were able to get the needed permits, directions, and information to get us to the cave known as Stephen’s Gap in northeast Alabama.
A short hike brought us to the mouth of the cave. You are able to simply walk into the cave, but for those more adventurous, a magical rappel from a tree above takes you on a journey. A journey that begins as you enter through a slot in the ground, where it opens up below you into a beautiful amphitheater of waterfalls and light rays. As you approach what looks like a bottomless pit, a small platform appears perfectly for you to land on — “The Lilly Pad”.
“This is so sick,” I exclaimed as I zipped down the rope.
I ran back up and out of the entrance.
“Your turn next,” I yelled to my twin brother Jeb, who joined on the adventure as well.
As Charlie rigged his rappel device on the rope, and descended into the cave, I jumped down to the ledge to help my older (by a minute) brother get his gear sorted.
”Are you nervous,” I asked Jeb.
“A little bit,” he replied.
Jeb was a rafter in the summer, he wasn’t a climber, so the vertical world was a new one to him. As he cautiously began to enter the void in the earth, I smiled and told him this was payback for scaring me on the snowmobile the previous winter.
The nerves were gone by the time Jeb reached the Lilly Pad himself, and he raced back up to do a second lap on the rappel. We spent an hour running laps, taking photos, and enjoying being in such a wild place. After our fill of fun, we packed our rope and headed back to the car.
While this wasn’t the longest, craziest, or most challenging adventure, it was one that will always remind me of the adventure to be had back in the Southeast. Both my twin brother and I now call the Mountain West home, so being able to find a new and exciting way to interact with our hometown was very special.
