Pendle International Speleological Squad do Mallorca.

5th January 1999 to 12th January 1999

Those present were......

  • David Kestell. 7yrs of hard caving and canyonning experience world wide

  • John Mason. 5yrs of Yorkshire caving, a bit in Derbyshire and France.

  • Andy Phillipson. 3yrs of hardish caving experience world wide and a scary canyon

    Day One: 5th January 1999.

    From a right load of old shit talked in the Dales we have actually made it out to the pleasant Isle of Mallorca. Prospective hard men of caving Stevey Bloom and Pearshape fell by the wayside when they found out the extent of the measureless Mallorcan Caverns (and that it would cost them a few quid !! ).

    We flew out of Luton ( best thing to do from there ) and after a mere 2 and a half hours we were in the sunny island off Eastern Spain. Hot and sunny, glad to be away from shitty English January. After a 20k tab to baggage reclaim we were met by Mr. and Mrs. Beardy who owned our luxury penthouse villa.

    They sent us onto Honest Terry's Motors. Terry (probably on the run from the rozzers ) provided us with a Corsa, although Dave had to haggle cos it was going to cost us 2 more than the motorcycle combination that he wanted us to have for the trip.

    Soon we were at the Honeypot villa - Nice touch. Superb place with our own orange trees in the front garden. Then off to the nearest hovel to sink a few wet ones, followed by Pendle's own Supermarket Sweep.

    Back at the villa we decided to educate ourselves in the local cuisine. John duly drove us off to the nearest tavern, which was jam packed with greasy Spaniards embarking on a Bank Holiday piss up. Some surly waiter type found us a table and presented us with some dried bread and olives. Very nice we thought. The menu arrived and defied translation. I opted for something with squid, Dave went for the veggie option of salad and John opted for a bowl of Frosties back at base. Shortly our tucker arrived. Dave's salad contained chunks of raw meat and John had been presented with a plate of peas, liver, roast garlic and other local treats. "What a steaming plate of absolute shite," he exclaimed, before scoffing the lot in double quick time. Waiter Bastardo then presented us with a bill, including costs for the dry bread - Cheers mate !!!

    Back to Beard H.Q for vino and plans for Mallorca.


    The British Customs Saga

    A man with large biceps and a broomstick whispered quietly in my ear, "No, take carbide on the plane. It doesn't show up on the x-rays". So after much deliberating we decided to chance it and take 2kg each.

    Got to the airport and took my rucksack around to the oversized baggage and watched it come up on the TV screen. "Excuse me Sir, but what is that large mass in the middle of your bag please?" inquired the nice customs man pointing to a huge rocky looking lump of obvious carbide nestling in my bag. Not obvious my arse !!!

    Quick thinking led to the answer of "must be camera gear", which didn't go down very well. Thankfully another muscle-bound skinhead interrupted his mate just as he started taking a Stanley Knife to my bag by saying. "It must be those rock anchor things you bang into the wall. Don't worry mate, it'll go through". Fuck me, was I relieved he had been caving when he was at school !!!

    The hand luggage people weren't to impressed with my ammo tin or Andy's 13kg bag !!!

    The lessons here are 1). Take an anomonous suitcase, not a rucksack, and 2). Don't trust a beard any more than you can get near them with a Remington Fuz-Away !!!


    The Saga of the Fritas

    Arrived in Mallorca to be greeted by sunshine and an old bloke with a beard (and a wife). Picked up the car from "Honest Tezza" who didn't take a deposit off us - What an idiot !!!!

    The cottage was spot on, we quickly dumped our kit and set off for big drinks and a trolley dash.

    Night time fell and a nice meal was the chosen activity for the evening. Mr Beard had pointed us in the direction of Randa's number one eatery. Things started to go down hill though when we found out they were having a "Bulgarian Night". There was balls all on the menu to tempt even a half starving man. With this in mind, I declined food and made do with a can of Coke.

    Sadly, for me, it is very bad manners to refuse food in Bulgaria and so I was served with an horrendous steaming pile of ***** - FRITAS !!!! Much to the amusement of those around me, I proceeded to eat the offending offal, whilst exercising extreme caution. The night really was an ordeal for me and I strongly advise anyone planning to visit Bulgaria or the crap eating house in Randa to stay in and wash their beards instead.


    Talking Points - Day One

  • Pearshape
  • A Spanish Air Hostess
  • Sunshine
  • Food and Drink (esp. orange trees in our front garden)
  • Fritas !!!

    Next Day