Crock’s Thoughts

Easy-peasy answer is… drumroll please… spelunking! That’s a big fat, “Hell no!”

Sooo… before we go any further, can we talk about that word for a second? Spelunking? I mean, really? What kind of word even is that? It sounds like a medical condition. “Doctor says it’s acute spelunking.” No word that ridiculous should describe a hobby, let alone one that involves crawling into the earth like you’re returning a library book to the underworld.

For anyone unfamiliar with the term, spelunking is the act of voluntarily exploring caves. Yes, caves. You know… those underground holes in the earth where sunlight has abandoned all hope and common sense is politely asked to wait outside. Yeah, that kinda hole! Again, “Hell no!”

In theory, spelunking is sold as an adventure. In reality, it’s being buried alive with better marketing.

By the way… did I tell you, “Hell no!”

Here’s the problem… caves are dark in a way that makes your flashlight feel wildly underqualified, like it showed up with a résumé and immediately realized this job was way above its pay grade. And they’re cold! We’re not talking crisp, postcard winter cold, but the kind that seeps straight into your bones and sets up permanent residency. Everyone knows I like warm! And if you’re curious about my opinion… well read two of my previous blog posts: I’ll Take Margaritas Over Mittens and Mountains Are Pretty, but Beaches Have Rum.

They’re damp too, which means everything smells faintly of mildew and wet socks. I mean, who likes wet socks? Have you ever seen a wet sock candle scent? Yeah, I don’t think so!

And then there are the tight spaces, where you’re told to exhale, turn sideways, and “just squeeze through,” which sounds less like recreation and more like a geology-based trust exercise designed to test your sanity and end in panic.

Yeah… still, “Hell no!”

And then we get to the bats…

I understand bats are important. I respect their role in nature. I do not, however, want to encounter them in a cave, hanging upside down in clusters like a scene straight out of The Lost Boys. The moment bats enter the picture, my imagination fills the ceiling with vampires suspended in the darkness, leather-clad silhouettes waiting silently above, eyes opening all at once. That image alone is enough to spike my heart rate, and I absolutely do not need it happening while I’m wedged between rocks, wondering if my helmet light is flickering or just my life flashing before my eyes; while also thinking, “Damn, I gotta pee!”

People will say, “Oh, they won’t bother you.” That’s comforting in the same way someone saying, “Relax! Flying through a thunderstorm is comforting.” Yeah, I don’t want to be beneath a ceiling full of upside-down creatures that could wake up at any moment, stretch their wings, and turn my peaceful cave stroll into a full-blown horror flick.

Oh, also… “Hell no!”

Spelunking enthusiasts love to tell you it’s peaceful. That you really find yourself down there. That it’s quiet, humbling, magical. If I want peace, I’ll find it somewhere with sunlight, airflow, and zero chance of stumbling into an accidental vampire lair. Peaceful places do not require helmets, headlamps, or reassurances that the ceiling won’t collapse.

As for what it would take to get me to do it, the answer remains, “Hell no!” Not money. Not peer pressure. Not a heartfelt speech about conquering fears. The moment someone says, “All you have to do is crawl into this cave…” I’ve already disappeared like a vampire at sunrise, headed somewhere dry, bright, and safely above ground.

I truly admire people who spelunk. They’re brave, adventurous, and clearly built differently. But some fears aren’t meant to be conquered. Some fears are meant to be respected from a safe distance. You know… like daylight!

Well, I’ll keep my adventures where the sun still shows up, the air is dry, and the only things hanging from ceilings are light fixtures.

Sooo… if you’re still not sure about my answer, “Hell no!”