Carlsbad Caverns

Carlsbad Caverns, New Mexico, 1979.
I was with a large group, here to tour these amazing caverns. Before we had even loaded the vehicles we had scanned brochures; we had only one day and no one could see all the caverns in that small amount of time. In addition to plotting a route, we also knew that it was important to dress appropriately, just as layered clothing, and shoes with good tread. Year round these caves are at a relative humidity of 100% and that makes things slippery, including the paths themselves. Everyone had the proper gear, including me…except that the only shoes I had at the moment with good tread were a pair of boots that, for reasons lost to the ages, I did not want to wear. I can’t remember what shoe I wore instead, but I do recall very clearly that I knew I was flouting the advice on the brochure, but I figured that I would be able to deal with what ever repercussions, if any, might occur.
One must go to Carlsbad Cavern in order to understand its scope – besides the miles of tunnels and caves that extended in all directions, deep underground, there is also a main chamber that is so huge it reaches five under feet below the entrance. The Park is superbly constructed for humans to take part of the natural beauty with paths and soft lighting and even an elevator. This day we were doing as most people do, walking down the main chamber with the plan to take the elevator back to the surface. This path spirals along the outside of the immense cavern, slowly making its way to the bottom. The limestone formations are breathtaking, and one cannot turn without seeing a stalagmite risiing from the caverns floors or the magnificent stalagtites that hung from the ceilings, glistening in the glowing lights. We were informed that it takes hundreds, even thousands of years for these formations to grow, as the do so through the water that seeped from the surface, drop by drop, slowing coating them with layers, like an onion. This made them always wet and little soft on the outside.
The very moment we left the Park’s building and began our decent, I knew that I had made a mistake with my choice of shoes. The path was not so slippery that I would fall, like ice, but slick enough that I used handrails when they were provided, just to be sure; this soon made it that I was the last in the group, and even falling a little behind.
We had made our way far enough down that no light from the entrance could be seen, but there were various colored lights shining everywhere from hidden locations, providing a constant glow. The group was so far ahead of me that I could no longer hear the narration of the tour leader, and this was beginning to upset me. I really wanted to hear every word, but here I was shuffling along, grabbing at handrails. And then the path did three things that all led to why I am writing about this day; the path suddenly grew much steeper, it turned sharply to the right and there was no handrail, except right at the turn. Why wasn’t there a hand rail on this portion, I will never know, but even still I might have been alright, except that I watched as the tour turned to the right and went completly out of view. Now I could not even hear the sound of the leader’s voice! I believe that this caused me to move a little faster than I normally would have under these slick conditions and I moved forward. And then I began to slide.
As I mentioned, there was a railing at the end of this piece of the path, where it turned sharply to the right; I knew that beyond that railing was the main cavern…we had been looking at it for some time now, and a drop of hundreds of feet. The railing was metal, and they were all in good shape, and I knew that it was strong. But as I freely slid toward it, for I was out of control at this point, I could see that the railing was only waist high…I felt sure that as soon as I hit it I would simply flip over it, most likely to my death.
The slide seem to take forever, like it was filmed in slow motion. Of course I planned to grab the metal bar, but it was just as slippery as everything else in the cave, and I was moving pretty fast now so I seriously thought I might not make it. I found out later that I didn’t even scream – maybe because I was concentrating so hard on that hand railing, the only thing between me and certain death. I don’t think I have ever looked at anything that hard before or since. I felt when I hit the metal and I could feel myself continuing forward…until I wasn’t. I had completly stopped.
I could not see…something cold was covering my face. I could feel the railing against me, so I knew I had not fallen. I tried to pull my head away from whatever was holding it and was met with resistance, which scared me and I doubled my efforts. Bracing on the railing I pushed back and with a weird sucking sound I was able to step backward, though my glasses were taken from me. I think it might have taken a good five seconds for my brain to acknowledge what it was looking at; a gorgeous, huge stalagtite reached from the ceiling far above. It was suspended just beyond the railing about a half of a foot and as i looked at my glasses embedded into the soft limestone I realized that this formation had stopped my fall. I had never even seen it, so focused I was on grabbing the handrail. I could have easlily missed it…a few inches to the left or right and I would not have touched it at all, but I had touched it, with my face.
Of course we had been told not to touch the formations. Not only did touching them change them forever, it was against federal law. So,joyous that I was alive after all, but horrified at what I had done to this innocent, perhaps ancient structure, I hastily extracted my glasses, also with that same sucking noise, and surveyed the damage. Sure enough, the exact shape of my glasses and nose and chin could be seen…it was obviously a human face! For a heart beat I considered attempting to rub out the damning print…the thing’s outter edge had the consistancy of cold, watery clay…I could attest to that personally. But I couldn’t; I felt that I had done more than my share of damage to the great mother earth. I carefully made my way downward, back to my group, working the while to remove the stalagtite’s goo from my face and eyeglasses, which is not as easy as it might sounds. It was like paste, drying with my body’s heat and making it all the harder to remove, but I certainly could not find it within me to complain. I knew that stalagtite saved my life.
I’ve always wondered if my face print is still there, or if the Park’s service “repaired” the damage, since it was so clearly the print of a face.