3|1| LAKE ROOM, CLARKSVILLE CAVE, CLARKSVILLE, NY [8.17.14]
On Saturday, August 17th, round 5pm Christina met me in Albany and we drove the 25 minutes towards Clarksville Caves. Underground we saw no one, but the smell of old pipe tobacco permeated the air. We walked for about half an hour through the slick stone passages along the river which flowed there 20 feet below the surface.
Eventually we reached the end point, a large round room with a small lake in the middle. We lit a single candle and sang folk songs in that resonant space with drips of water from the roots of trees adding percussive flourishes to our songs. We tramped back out the way we came, climbed up to the smell of pollen with the wild colors of the woods, and returned to my truck where the dogs were waiting.
Eventually we reached the end point, a large round room with a small lake in the middle. We lit a single candle and sang folk songs in that resonant space with drips of water from the roots of trees adding percussive flourishes to our songs. We tramped back out the way we came, climbed up to the smell of pollen with the wild colors of the woods, and returned to my truck where the dogs were waiting.
3|2| McNAB HALL, CLARKSVILLE CAVE, CLARKSVILLE, NY [9.28.14]
3|3| THE BATHTUB, CLARKSVILLE CAVE, CLARKSVILLE, NY [10.19.14]
On Sunday, I met with Janice and Dave in Albany, running our usual 20 minutes behind. The air was cool, and dry leaves whirled around the wheels of the truck all the way out to Clarksville. We were meeting Bill from Mount Washington Mass who I had last seen during a night of music at The Roosterduck, an old farmhouse in Columbia County a week before. Bill greeted us with hugs and apples from home. Gearing up, we all set out on the trail to Gregory - the main pit entrance of Clarksville Cave. This was Bill's first time caving, and our first time exploring the southern narrow passage of the system.
Starting with a 1-foot tight crawl, the cave opened up quickly into Slickenslide Block, a large area with square-shaped stone masses. In a side room we saw a small solitary bat clinging to the ceiling just north of Orifice Pass, well into hibernation. From there we followed some slick rocks down into a channel, reaching The Bathtub - a dark reservoir of water resting in a smooth stone sump some six feet deep and ten or so feet wide.
Having reached an end we could not traverse, we sat against the rounded slick walls at waters edge. From this vantage, the sound traveled clear over the surface of the pool into the dark, resonating out to places we hadn't seen. Forty minutes later, we had recorded a couple folks songs, some improvised group sounds, and solo renditions of the saddest kazoo on earth. On emerging from the cave, the smells and colors of fall hit us - the air 10 degrees cooler than what we had just left below.
Starting with a 1-foot tight crawl, the cave opened up quickly into Slickenslide Block, a large area with square-shaped stone masses. In a side room we saw a small solitary bat clinging to the ceiling just north of Orifice Pass, well into hibernation. From there we followed some slick rocks down into a channel, reaching The Bathtub - a dark reservoir of water resting in a smooth stone sump some six feet deep and ten or so feet wide.
Having reached an end we could not traverse, we sat against the rounded slick walls at waters edge. From this vantage, the sound traveled clear over the surface of the pool into the dark, resonating out to places we hadn't seen. Forty minutes later, we had recorded a couple folks songs, some improvised group sounds, and solo renditions of the saddest kazoo on earth. On emerging from the cave, the smells and colors of fall hit us - the air 10 degrees cooler than what we had just left below.
3|4| COOK AVENUE, CLARKSVILLE CAVE, CLARKSVILLE, NY [10.19.14]
--------- AUDIO LOST! OH NO! ---------
On Monday, for the first time in a while, I had the day off. The weather all week had been an unpleasant mix of cold gusts and occasional spats of freezing rain. I sent Christina a message asking if she'd like to join on an expedition underground. Just out of luck she was in the area, so I met her at the parking lot of Jake Moon Restaurant and we headed up the dirt trail into the woods. The glowing yellow leaves from the last trip to Clarksvile now lay crisp and brittle on the path up to the sink to the junction of Clarksville's northern and southern passages.
After that winding one foot crawl we emerged at Slickenslide Block and checked in our bat friend. Still there in the same spot, we shined a dim light on him and took a picture. Over the hours we made some mighty fine recordings, but water damage led to a loss of the data. Sometimes you sing for the air, for the walls, the water, and no one else - making music for the worlds most delicate medium of memory.
After that winding one foot crawl we emerged at Slickenslide Block and checked in our bat friend. Still there in the same spot, we shined a dim light on him and took a picture. Over the hours we made some mighty fine recordings, but water damage led to a loss of the data. Sometimes you sing for the air, for the walls, the water, and no one else - making music for the worlds most delicate medium of memory.
3|5| BELL BATH, CLARKSVILLE CAVE, CLARKSVILLE, NY [7.26.15]
Joe had never been caving proper before, with helmet and lamp, so I put him through the tight end of the system, and he emerged a happy muddy mess. Deep down in the bathtub I broke out my amp and resonator bell (more on that later) to play with the natural acoustical feedback of the chamber. Below is that result, recorded by Joe, and played by myself: