Flood in McFails Cave, New York


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as published in The Northeastern Caver, September 1996

As we walked up the stream passage, I couldn’t help remarking that the water seemed much higher than when we had first entered, six hours earlier. Less than two minutes later, the current had grown so strong that we all felt compelled to chimney up the walls to get out of the water. Below us the stream thundered past, now a river of roaring whitewater. Such was the beginning of a ten hour wait from an unprecedented flash flood in McFails Cave.

It was August 3rd, and I was taking Richard Borowsky, Luis and Mony Espanasa into McFails for a short pleasure trip. In the last seven years I must have visited McFails at least two dozen times, and during the late eighties and early nineties I entered the cave anywhere from four to six times a year in order to map the newly discovered region beyond the Pretzel Connection. During all this time the only changes in water level that I ever witnessed were seasonal in nature. While a heavy rainstorm might raise stream levels slightly, McFails would only reach flood stage during the spring months, when the winter snow melt combined with April showers would bring vastly larger amounts of water into the cave over a period of several weeks or months. Furthermore, my readings in both the Northeastern Caver as well as the annual NSS accident reports never indicated any problems with quickly rising water. One would enter McFails with a healthy respect for its cold, damp environment, but not for the threat of its entrance becoming sumped by a single, sudden rainstorm.

By August the waterfall at Hall’s Hole is usually dry. That this year has been unusually wet only meant that a residual waterfall still poured over the pit’s edge. We rigged the pit and locked the gate behind us (placing the key on a high ledge inside the four foot high entrance crawl). Unfortunately, I was the only person to have a whistle, so we worked out a signal system: Luis, who would descend first, would take the whistle. One whistle blast meant off-rope and the next person should follow. Two whistle blasts meant don’t come, he’s coming back.

By 11:30 we were all at the bottom of the dome. We took off our gear and stored it on a high ledge (Richard was going to leave his vertical system on the floor of the dome, but I suggested he put it on the ledge as well, and he did so). We then strolled downstream to the climb up into Dreamland, about 1000 feet from Coeyman’s Junction. At this time the stream was no more than three or four inches deep, completely typical for the cave.

After an hour “Oooing” and “Ahhing” over the formations in this rarely visited upper level of McFails, we moved on, reaching the First Junction Room by 3:30 PM and the Southwest Sump by 4:15 pm. Along the way I pointed out “The Brain,” a flat rock with many convolutions on its surface that sits on a wide ledge about six feet above the stream’s base just downstream from a small waterfall.

Luis and Mony were using carbide roof-burners, and we decided that when their first charge ran out we would begin heading out. Just as we reached the Southwest Sump Mony’s carbide lamp died, so they refilled her generator and we started for the entrance. I figured that we could reach Coeyman’s Dome by about 6:00-6:30, and be out of the cave by 7:30 at the latest. As we traveled back through the Sump Section, an area of low crawls in ponded water, I noticed absolutely no difference in water levels. Everything was normal and fun. The biggest problem was hearing Richard complain about having to crawl through the sumps. It seems the trip leader (who will remain nameless) didn’t tell him that kneepads are always required in a northeast cave.

At the First Breakdown Room Luis and Mony went ahead so that we could reduce any waiting at the bottom of the pit. Normally from here one can reach the entrance in 30 to 45 minutes.

Richard and I sat in the First Breakdown room for about ten minutes, munching raisins and peanuts and listening to the trickle of the stream going by. Then we picked ourselves up and entered what I consider to be one of the nicest and most beautiful stream passages in the world, a meandering high narrow fissure that weaves left and right through the earth, its walls layered with many thin plates of chert and limestone, its floor carved by a gentle ribbon of gurgling water.

Suddenly I was startled to discover that the water was now almost to my knees, and that we had to use a surprising amount of energy to fight the current. After less than a hundred feet the current had increased so much that we found it necessary to chimney up the walls to avoid being pushed from our feet.

We were still almost 2500 feet from Coeyman’s Junction, and 1100 feet from The Brain. With methodical determination we pushed on, stemming the walls and working our way forward. Twice a chert layer broke under my feet, and I avoided a serious fall by falling sideways against the opposite wall.

After approximately an hour of chimneying we finally met up with Luis and Mony at The Brain. What had been a small six foot waterfall was now a roaring river, with no waterfall at all: the water had risen six feet in two hours!

Out came the plastic bags and we huddled together with carbide lamps and candles, sitting on small insulite pads and our emptied packs. By 7:30 we could see that the water was finally beginning to drop. By 11:00 it had receded two feet, and we chimneyed forward to Dreamland, where Mony and Richard waited while Luis and I scouted ahead to Coeyman’s Dome. By now it was actually possible to walk against the current, though the water still reached one’s knees in most places.

At Coeyman’s Junction I was relieved to see that approximately 70 percent of the flow was coming from the main passage, not Hall’s Hole. This meant that the key had probably not been washed away, that the small crawl just after the dome was not sumped, and that we might be able to climb out right now.

At the Dome the waterfall was raging. As soon as I entered the dome my glasses became completely misted and fogged. Even the righthand drop, which normally avoids the waterfall entirely, was somewhat inside the flow. We returned to Mony and Richard to try and decide what to do.

It was now midnight. Luis thought it possible to climb out, and he probably was right. I, however, was reluctant for anyone to try climbing yet. In the history of McFails the only deaths had taken place because someone tried to climb out inside a waterfall. After a short discussion we decided to climb up to Dreamland and wait one or two more hours, hoping that the water would drop some more.

At 1:40 AM I came back down to check the water level. It had dropped another three inches or so. Now the issue was whether we could wait any longer. All of us were uncomfortable, and the carbide could only last so long. We decided it was time to go.

Luis and Mony went first, with Richard and I following and derigging the ladder and etrier from the two nuisance drops. At the dome the water flow had dropped somewhat, so that I could actually walk into the dome and not have my glasses become completely fogged.

Luis climbed first, taking the whistle with him with a carefully worked out set of signals. To all our relief he found that the key was where we had left it. The high water had not washed it away, locking us inside.

By 5 AM I reached the surface, the last person out of the cave. By 7 AM we were sitting in the Alley Cat diner having dinner. We asked if it had rained on Saturday, and one man told us that a heavy storm, “a white wall,” had moved across Cobleskill and Schoharie about 5 pm, dumping a lot of rain in a short period of time.

It would seem that either this event was a rare, unpredictable freak of nature, or that something has changed in recent years. If the second case is so, visitors to McFails should exercise greater caution about entering the cave in rainy weather, especially if the water level is already high to begin with. When we entered the cave I checked the gate, and the stream was below its base by about two inches, a perfectly acceptable situation. When we left, that stream topped the gate’s base by more than two inches, and would have made a trip to the cave impermissible according to the rules. That such a fast rise of water is now possible must now be considered by anyone entering McFails Cave.

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3 comments

  • Dave Maliff

    Hi!,
    Sorry to hear that McFails is barred and gated, though I suppose it is meant to preserve. I remember entering the cave back in ’68-’69 when I was witj the Outing Club from Umass. As I remember it the entrance pit was not a casual challenge for the inexperienced and I do remember a caver had died the previous year while trying to chimney out under a waterfall in the spring. Seems we spent 8 or 9 hours that day exploring and I still remember the water, the low crawl after the entrance pit and the places where we had to duck under water to make the passage. Anyway, I’m still an outer at heart, I’m 62 now, still able mostly. If anybody sees this give me a shout! Hey, is Dave Palmer or Morley around? Miss all you guys.
    Dave Maliff

  • Jon Bennett

    I once visited McFails about the same time when I was with Central Connecticut Grotto. I remember seeing a log jammed into a cleft in the rock about 10 feet up in the passage and decided it was not a good place to be during a flood. Although I live near Seattle now and belong to Cascade Grotto, I still enjoy reading about the cave and the further explorations. I also subscribe to Northeastern Caver to keep in touch with the area since my brother has a farm near Berne and I plan on visiting the area before long, although probably not much more in caving than Howe Caverns. Nothing too spectacular in limestone caves in this area but lots of lava tubes. I took the girlfriend to Ape Cape near Mt. St. Helens recently but she is not into the sport. Nice seeing your comment. Jon

  • Jon Bennett

    That’s Ape Cave, not Cape!

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