Lou’s View – Sept. 4, 2014
The Mammoth Cave of Sugar Valley
by Lou Bernard
In the old Clinton Democrats, the editors would split the news up geographically. Toward the back of each paper, they had columns for the various areas of the county—Keating, Mill Hall, Dunnstown, even Glen Union in spite of there being no population there to speak of.
Some of these were fairly poetic, such as the Chatham Run column in 1878: “Zero. Beautiful snow. Our teachers nearly all attended the institute. The river is frozen over. Do not forget the poor this cold weather. If report be true, the next music will sound round about and over the hills of Richville.”
That’s actually somewhat beautiful. This was common back then—The Sugar Valley report on January 10, 1878, began,”Snow just a day too late to go hunting. Meeting on Monday night, all turn out. Read with satisfaction: The report of the supposed murdered man. Half dollars, deer stories, and church matters are the cause of many hot words.”
Down below that news-poetry, there was another local interest story: A man from Tylersville had discovered a cave on his property. This was back in the 1800s, when Sugar Valley wasn’t entirely settled yet. (Let’s be real, it’s barely settled now.)
“Philip Gramley of the east end of Sugar Valley was mason stones on his farm,” the Democrat reported. “Taking up a large stone, on top of a large hill, he opened a hole about the size of a man’s head. Looking in, he saw a large open space.”
Gramley dropped a rock into the cave to test the depth, about the same thing you’d do in a similar situation—Rock-dropping technology hasn’t changed much in the past few hundred years. He listened, and was surprised to hear it bounce down a long tunnel, echoing as it went.
Gramley had a cave.
He told a few people, and then they told a few people, and the excitement spread. Word reached Democrat reporter Sam Patchen, who, judging by his name, aspired to be a character in a children’s book. (“Sam Patchen Makes A Friend!”) Patchen arrived on Gramley’s farm pretty much unprepared, and asked to see the cave. Fortunately, Gramley had what he needed, and supplied Patchen with overalls, a hat, a candle, and some rope. (Seriously, does Wolf Blitzer show up for things this unprepared?)
They dug out the hole to make it wider, which took about an hour, and then they tied to rope around their waists, and lowered themselves into the hole.
“It looked hideous,” wrote Patchen,”And twice our courage almost went back on us, but down we went, stepping from one stone to another, like going down a winding stairway. Going down in an almost perpendicular line for about fifty feet, we encountered water.” (I’m fairly sure Patchen actually meant “horizontal” instead of “perpendicular.”)
They came to the end of their rope. Literally, the rope ran out, so they untied themselves and walked around down there for about half an hour. Patchen described it as being like a huge house underground. “Rooms, hallways, stairs innumerable, and we vouch that that hill, containing more than two acres, can be traversed from one end to the other.” (The 1870s Clinton Democrat had more poetic phrases than an angsty teenager.)
After a while, Patchen and Gramley decided to go back out.
“That wasn’t so easy done,” wrote Patchen.
They’d gotten themselves somewhat lost. They had a discussion along the lines of “I thought you remembered where we left the rope,” and looked around for a while, long enough to begin getting very nervous. Finally, the spotted it, and they climbed out.
But, no, the adventure wasn’t over yet. As they climbed back out, they noticed something hanging from the rocks that they’d missed on the way back. It looked black and soft, and they couldn’t make it out. So they reached out to touch it, and—BATS! They found themselves surrounded by hundreds of bats that lived at the entrance to this cave, which probably sped their exit.
“That’s the long and short of it,” wrote Patchen,”And anyone going in after this had better take all the rope he can.”
So somewhere out in Sugar Valley is a huge cave, the size of as house.
How about one more poetic phrase before we go, shall we?
“CEDAR RUN: Moonlit nights. Leafing—The trees. Has come—Sam Patchen. Gone to Dixie—Maud Muller. CARROLL: Weather—Dry. Mountains—Burning. Friends, tie your dogs on Saturday nights.”
