In the fourth of a series of articles charting the experiences of a Wanstead-based travel writer, Carole Edrich – who is now a TMA Travel Writer of the Year finalist – recalls caving in Slovenia
So, here I am. Stuck. Not writer’s block stuck. The occasional, unexpected, ADHD overwhelm makes that a mere aspiration. I am physically, scarily, logistically stuck. Humiliatingly stuck. Much worse than being stuck in public. I’m jeopardy stuck. I’m with a bunch of other journalists, and the thing about journalists is that if they can’t think of anything else to write about on this press trip, they’re going to write about me.
It’s dark and we are caving. We traipse through slippery, dripping dampness when the going’s good, and squish through tight, sloshy wetness when it’s not. Over the centuries, the karst caves under Predjama Castle have dissolved into huge caverns with stalagmites and stalactites big as trees, tiny tunnels with underground springs of fresh, super-cold water, and everything in between. The general public isn’t allowed here. It’s scientists only, and our special optional treat.
I’m not in Slovenia for its nature, its history or architecture, or the famous castle above. I’m not here for the impressive and super-accessible public caves with their huge flat walkways and special options for those with impairments. I’m not here for the hotel or the spa or the food. Not even for the olms; tiny baby dragons found only in this area. Olms may be cute and amazing. They may catch my imagination with their mysterious life cycle. I may enjoy the challenge of photographing them. But they’re not what my commission’s about. I’m here to cover this caving experience for the hardest-core, hard-core adventure magazine I’ve ever written for. I’ve fought tooth and nail to become their extreme sports and adventure specialist. If this article’s good enough, the role will likely be mine. Original photos aren’t vital, but if I get them, I can sell another photo-story. I know my low-light photography is excellent, so it might even net me a prize.
But I’m stuck. Not because I don’t fit through the gap. I can get myself through it head-first or feet-first; not crawling, but squirming. I’m stuck because of my pride. I didn’t need to bring my Nikon. It is a valued gift and has won me several competitions. I’m stuck because I can’t bring the camera with me. I could tether it and drag it behind me, but it’s my pride and joy, and the only one I have. Faced with the choice of completing the caving or keeping my camera, I wuss out.
Years later, and I work with three cameras, lots of insurance and an extra old one for dodgy situations. Nobody wrote about me, and although I wrote for Real Travel regularly, I didn’t push for the title because my pride had taken a blow. Lesson learned. You’d think. Just last week I reached the finals in the TMA Travel Writer of the Year Awards. Hopefully, my pride in this achievement won’t get me stuck anywhere, but if it does, it’ll make a great story. Right?
To read more of Carole’s work or to listen to her podcast, visit caroleinnit.com
