LANCASTER HOLE/EASE GILL

from 1960 Journal

Some morons decided to celebrate Xmas 1959 by camping down Lancaster Hole. This was done without permission and whilst normal potholing types were singing carols supping vast quantities of ale, or with the magic mistletoe clutched in their hot sticky hands chasing giggling females; these idiots were sat somewhere in the damp gloom of Fall Pot (10 minutes from the entrance) playing cards and reading caving books. After sometime their mountainous pile of debris threatened to block the hole so they left and appeared on T.V.
This naturally resulted in an outcry that:-

1. They should never have left their mothers' sides.
   
2. That the farmer should never have let them down, and a flood of letters reached Mr & Mrs Scarr.
   This was the culmination of several incidents so to save the fell from being closed altogether it was agreed to put a lid on County Pot and lock both it and Lancaster Hole. The key would be left at Gale Garth and no reasonable potholer would be refused permission.

   January 1960 Three weekends were spent strengthening County Pot and fitting lid, this was locked and an eyebolt fitted at Lancaster Hole. The following weekend the lock had gone from County Pot; no doubt the people who broke it off were off similar intelligence as the "Nig Nogs" who caused all the trouble in the first place. It probably never occurred to them that County Pot could be blocked very easily and very permanently. Luckily no further incidents occurred and the matter was dropped.

   On every fell it is the same pattern the Nig fully equipped with the Pennine Underground and a washing line is a potential danger to himself and all clubs.
   We are the first to admit these people don't read Club journals so its up to members of Clubs to sort them out. Having got that off our chests we hope you find the rest a bit less of a bitter pill.
   
   Topography For umpteen weekends throughout the year a demented figure (Jim) complete with notebook, pencil, and relays of followers crept through the intricacies of Ease Gill. Who knows one day his furious scribbling may be translated into an unexpurgated version. We have now discovered more unsurveyed passages and odd corners than anyone ever knew existed & Aggy-Aggys place in the Guiness Book of Records is only temporary, that is unless our surveyors become to cold to hold a compass.