- A climbing trip became a waking nightmare for George when he plunged into the abyss
- Dipping in and out of consciousness as he waited for rescue the ordeal stretched on for over a day
- Finally freed, George went on to train to become a volunteer cave rescuer
Here George Linnane,42, shares his incredible rescue story in his own words.
Pulling open the curtains on a grey and gloomy winter’s morning, I felt a shudder of excitement shooting down my spine.
It was November 2021, and I was going caving – exploring wild caves in Brecon Beacons National Park in Wales.
When I wasn’t working as a mechanical engineer, I loved chasing adventure, going diving underwater or navigating caves.
Becoming a qualified cave diver in 2016, I’d been caving all over the world since, but this region had one of my favourite complexes to explore.
Meeting up with my friends Mark, then 52, and Mel, 34, we planned to explore part of the Ogof Ffynnon Ddu cave, which would take around five hours.
We weren’t strangers to this network of dark, twisty tunnels that ran for 61 kilometres and reached 275 metres below the earth’s surface, making it the UK’s deepest cave system.
‘As I plummeted…my body was hammered by boulders, I plunged helplessly into the abyss.’
Kitting up in protective clothing – thermal undersuits, oversuits, boots, hardhats with head torches, as well as elbow and knee pads and gloves – we were ready to set off.
As we trudged down into the tunnel, the space narrowed, forcing us to crawl single-file through the body-sized tubes.
Over an hour later, we emerged into a large opening, 10 metres under the earth’s surface, called Upper Smithy.
Snapping photos of the large rock faces around us, we made our way towards a skinny bridge to get to the other side
Mark crossed first and once across, I followed.
I’d only taken a few steps when the rocks beneath me rumbled. There was no time to react as the ground suddenly collapsed beneath me and fell away.
Frantically clawing the rock face as I plummeted, I tried to stop myself, but as my body was hammered by boulders, I plunged helplessly into the abyss.
Then thud… everything went black.
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When I came to, a searing pain shot through my body. I was wedged in a metre-wide crevice, lying sloped on my belly with my legs above my head.
‘George,’ Mark and Mel called from above, their voices filled with panic.
Precariously climbing around nine metres down to where I was trapped, Mark checked over my injuries.
As he touched my right shin, where my bone had snapped, I wailed in agony.
I could also taste blood in my mouth, and my jaw hung floppily from where a rock had torn a hole in the bottom of my face.
‘I’ll have to leave you to get help,’ Mark said.
Too afraid to move for fear of dislodging more rocks, Mel stayed perched above me on a ledge.
‘Gran was here with me in spirit, encouraging me to hang in there and survive.’
In agony, I knew I needed to move into a more comfortable and safer position. Summoning all my willpower, I flipped myself on my back and propped myself up against a rock in a seated position.
My ear-piercing screams echoed through the tunnels, as Mel looked on helplessly.
Dipping in and out of consciousness, I swung between bouts of feeling like giving up, and having the will to fight to survive.
‘Just keep holding on,’ Mel begged.
Desperately worried, she kept chatting, trying to keep me awake.
As I drifted in and out of consciousness, suddenly I felt a comforting presence.
Gran? I thought.
When I was a kid my mum worked as a nurse and, when she was on shift, my grandma Flora would look after me.
Now I knew Gran was here with me in spirit, encouraging me to hang in there and survive.
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Three hours later, the beam of a headlamp illuminated the cold cave, and I heard voices.
Mark had managed to raise the alarm.
I’m saved! I thought, relieved, as a team of rescuers, including a doctor, made their way towards me.
‘Let’s get you out of here,’ the doc said, as I was given morphine, had my leg splinted, and I was strapped to a stretcher.
Unable to go back the way we came due to the tiny tunnels, the rescue team navigated through tricky narrow passageways to carry me to safety.
‘When the pain became too much I passed out.’
‘My leg,’ I screamed as it nudged the hard rock wall, the morphine wearing off.
When the pain became too much I passed out.
It was 12 hours before we reached a more open area called Big Shacks, where a team of around 100 rescuers were waiting, including caving friends who’d travelled across the country, to help if needed.
Cold and delirious from the pain, I was warmed by rescuers with heat packs, and a doctor inserted an intravenous line to pump me with sugars and fluids.
He also packed the hole in my face with gauze.
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I was overcome with gratitude as the rescuers worked in six-hour shifts to help get me out. They filled me with hope and strength.
‘We’re nearly there, mate,’ they assured me with each passing hour.
When we approached a surging river inside one of the tunnels, the medical team attached a waterproof skirt to my stretcher, as they waded in chest-deep water.
For 1.6km, they’d formed a human chain, passing me from one rescuer to the next, displaying the ultimate example of teamwork.
Next came the most challenging part of my extraction, where I was hauled 30 metres up a vertical shaft, before going into another labyrinth of tunnels
‘After being in the cave for 54 hours, I was finally free.’
.
As we approached a narrow gateway on the mountainside called Top Entrance, my nostrils filled with the dewy smell of the grassy countryside.
Please let me fit through the gap, I fretted as I was gently prised out.
After being in the cave for 54 hours, I was finally free.
‘Thank you,’ I said, overcome with emotion.
My rescuers erupted in cheers, as they formed a guard of honour to see me off in a waiting Land Rover.
I was driven down the mountain to the caving club headquarters, before being taken to hospital by ambulance.
There, X-rays revealed I’d broken my right leg, had a 3cm hole in my mouth, missing teeth, a smashed jawbone, three broken ribs, dislocated collarbone, broken wrist, lacerated spleen and a punctured lung.
‘Promise me no more caving until you’re fit and strong again,’ my mate Steve said, shocked by my ordeal but relieved I was alive to tell the tale.
After 16 days in hospital, I was discharged.
Back home, I spent 18 months recovering and slowly rebuilding my strength through physio, and weight-lifting.
Almost four years on from the accident, my ordeal hasn’t put me off caving. In fact, I love it more than ever.
Last year, I met my partner Sayeeda, 37, through a dating app.
‘I feel it’s my duty to give back and be there for fellow underground adventurers.’
I feel it’s my duty to give back and be there for fellow underground adventurers
She’s supportive of my caving endeavours and knows how important it is to me. While she doesn’t doubt my abilities, she’s aware how unpredictable the universe can be.
But I know how lucky I am to be alive and it’s thanks to my rescuers.
Inspired by their bravery in what was the longest cave rescue mission in UK history, I’ve become a volunteer cave rescuer.
I feel it’s my duty to give back and be there for fellow underground adventurers, if and when they need.
