By Larry Scott
Three can keep a secret - if two of them are dead. -Benjamin Franklin
Recently, during St. David’s annual Pioneer Days celebration, members of the Kartchner family shared remembrances of a long-standing family secret.
In 1978, James and Lois Kartchner, of St. David, were unexpectedly contacted by two young men from Tucson. “We’ve found something special on your land,” they said, and proceeded to show photos taken inside an incredibly beautiful cavern. They followed with photos of a cave that had been vandalized, littered and desecrated with graffiti.
Four years earlier, Cavers Gary Tenen and Randy Tufts had discovered the cave on Kartchner ranch property on the east slope of the nearby Whetstone mountains. Since, they had visited periodically, exploring and mapping. Eventually, they learned the cave was on private land - not public as they had assumed.
“We learned later that they had done a pretty thorough background check on us before they finally came forward to meet us,” one brother noted.”
“Their message was clear. Caves are not renewable or replaceable. We do not, under any circumstances want it vandalized - which it certainly will be if the word gets out.”
To their relief, James agreed totally with their concerns. Then, he pointed to the array of photos on the mantelpiece and announced that the entire family would keep the secret (ours is NOT a small family).
That was NOT good. How long could any secret last in a family that big? A week? A month?”
Then James dropped his second bomb: “When can I go in?”
“It’s no place for a 78-year-old man,” they insisted. But, in the end, he DID go in. Twice, in fact.
Entering involved squeezing through an opening, and downward into a small cave. From there, you entered a narrow passage about 30 feet long. The ceiling was low enough that you could only slide on your belly, using your toes to scoot yourself along, pushing your hard-hat in front of you.
At the end of the passage was the the blow-hole, an opening so small you had to squeeze through with one arm back and the other extended beside your head.
One brother noted, “I remember the sensation of exhaling and squeezing forward, feeling the rock scrape the hide off my back and, at the same time, feeling the buttons popping off in front.”
Brother Dean was just too big. So, the crew brought in hammers and chisels and, with great effort, modified the opening to what became known as a Dean-sized hole.
“When I finally got in,” he said, “the formations were totally awesome. But, throughout the excursion, there was this unsettling little voice in the back of my mind: OK. You got in - but can you get back out?”
Exploratory and mapping excursions into the caverns soon became family events, several times a year. No one ever entered without Gary and Randy, and the rules were strict. To minimize damage to the cave, there was one narrow path. No one stepped off, and no one touched the formations. To avoid getting lost, there were trail markers - tiny reflectors on pop-sickle sticks.
On one stretch of trail, the mud was waist-deep. Photos of the happy group entering look very different from shots of the happy group exiting, in which everyone is uniformly mud brown. One family member noted, “This wasn’t ordinary mud. The color never washed out of your clothes.”
Younger Kartchner kids knew nothing of the cave. Their introduction came when they entered high school. Boy-friends and girl-friends were added with the arrival of a marriage license. Ultimately, about fifty family members shared the secret.
For ten long years, the Kartchners and the “Cavers" worked to bring the caverns - intact and unharmed - under the protective covering of Arizona State Parks, never disclosing its specific location. Finally, in 1988, Kartchner Caverns became news, and the younger Kartchner kids received the exciting news - alongside their Saint David school classmates.
I find the story fascinating, and more than a little intriguing - What kind of family stands together, holding an exciting secret in their hands for ten full years - without ANYONE dropping the ball?
Three can keep a secret - if two of them are dead. -Benjamin Franklin
Recently, during St. David’s annual Pioneer Days celebration, members of the Kartchner family shared remembrances of a long-standing family secret.
In 1978, James and Lois Kartchner, of St. David, were unexpectedly contacted by two young men from Tucson. “We’ve found something special on your land,” they said, and proceeded to show photos taken inside an incredibly beautiful cavern. They followed with photos of a cave that had been vandalized, littered and desecrated with graffiti.
Four years earlier, Cavers Gary Tenen and Randy Tufts had discovered the cave on Kartchner ranch property on the east slope of the nearby Whetstone mountains. Since, they had visited periodically, exploring and mapping. Eventually, they learned the cave was on private land - not public as they had assumed.
“We learned later that they had done a pretty thorough background check on us before they finally came forward to meet us,” one brother noted.”
“Their message was clear. Caves are not renewable or replaceable. We do not, under any circumstances want it vandalized - which it certainly will be if the word gets out.”
To their relief, James agreed totally with their concerns. Then, he pointed to the array of photos on the mantelpiece and announced that the entire family would keep the secret (ours is NOT a small family).
That was NOT good. How long could any secret last in a family that big? A week? A month?”
Then James dropped his second bomb: “When can I go in?”
“It’s no place for a 78-year-old man,” they insisted. But, in the end, he DID go in. Twice, in fact.
Entering involved squeezing through an opening, and downward into a small cave. From there, you entered a narrow passage about 30 feet long. The ceiling was low enough that you could only slide on your belly, using your toes to scoot yourself along, pushing your hard-hat in front of you.
At the end of the passage was the the blow-hole, an opening so small you had to squeeze through with one arm back and the other extended beside your head.
One brother noted, “I remember the sensation of exhaling and squeezing forward, feeling the rock scrape the hide off my back and, at the same time, feeling the buttons popping off in front.”
Brother Dean was just too big. So, the crew brought in hammers and chisels and, with great effort, modified the opening to what became known as a Dean-sized hole.
“When I finally got in,” he said, “the formations were totally awesome. But, throughout the excursion, there was this unsettling little voice in the back of my mind: OK. You got in - but can you get back out?”
Exploratory and mapping excursions into the caverns soon became family events, several times a year. No one ever entered without Gary and Randy, and the rules were strict. To minimize damage to the cave, there was one narrow path. No one stepped off, and no one touched the formations. To avoid getting lost, there were trail markers - tiny reflectors on pop-sickle sticks.
On one stretch of trail, the mud was waist-deep. Photos of the happy group entering look very different from shots of the happy group exiting, in which everyone is uniformly mud brown. One family member noted, “This wasn’t ordinary mud. The color never washed out of your clothes.”
Younger Kartchner kids knew nothing of the cave. Their introduction came when they entered high school. Boy-friends and girl-friends were added with the arrival of a marriage license. Ultimately, about fifty family members shared the secret.
For ten long years, the Kartchners and the “Cavers" worked to bring the caverns - intact and unharmed - under the protective covering of Arizona State Parks, never disclosing its specific location. Finally, in 1988, Kartchner Caverns became news, and the younger Kartchner kids received the exciting news - alongside their Saint David school classmates.
I find the story fascinating, and more than a little intriguing - What kind of family stands together, holding an exciting secret in their hands for ten full years - without ANYONE dropping the ball?