In the cave, everyone had their headlamps and flashlights on, and we’re seeing rock formations, and stalagmites or stalactites, and even little critters -- a little frog, a centipede, a translucent-looking crawfish. You begin to see the shape of things, the character of such a space. But then you can not see. When you turn off all artificial light sources, headlamps and flashlights, there’s complete darkness -- not an ounce of light. How often do we find ourselves in utter blackness? Senses shift and you begin to hear more strongly, realize you want to touch things to understand how to situate yourself. Sounds become more important, seemingly louder and interesting -- the echoes and the reverberations, the trickling water and sounds of footsteps or fingers against rock trying to feel your way with your other senses. Very cool. These underground worlds are “hidden” yet alive -- they exist and have their form and character and presence and inhabitants whether we realize it or not. And they’re entirely invisible, literally, to the naked eye, unless we bring something artificial down there to help us see. For the volunteers that make up the cave rescue team, caves are spaces they work hard to understand and to exist confidently in. They have rich, deep knowledge of how to navigate, work and be in cave systems. And thank goodness because for people who go caving and exploring, whether professional or people just doing it for fun, accidents happen. People get in trouble, and it’s good to know there is a crew that exists for that.