An old, metal grate covered the entrance to the dark cavern. Its rusty, old hinges squeaked as we lifted the heavy gate. Below through broken rocks and a small opening, a vast system of caves ventured deep into the ground. We lit our carbide lamps and descended into the darkness and the unknown.

The first time a person enters one of these caverns, there is a strange sense of wonder and excitement. This happened many years ago while attending college at Oneonta State. Eight members of the Outing Club were going spelunking in Knox Cave near Middleburg for the day.

With hard hats, knee pads and carbide lamps, we were going to crawl several miles into the narrow caves and large chambers that were carved from the limestone by water over the past million or so years. We put small pieces of calcium carbide into the bottom of the small brass lamps and water into the top. The water dripped slowly onto the carbide and generated acetylene gas, which was lit, creating the spelunker's light.

We steadily eased our way deeper and deeper into the shaft. Old wires remained from an attempt to open the cave to the public many years ago. It didn't work, because the cave was too small and narrow in too many places. Once we were about 50 feet below the surface, the cave opened into its first large chamber. This was "the meeting room." The walls were smooth, cool and damp.

The next part of the cavern was going to be far more difficult. A very narrow tunnel called "the gun barrel" was the next obstacle confronting us. With one arm extended in front to pull and the other one at our sides, we inched our way through the tight, horizontal shaft. For nearly 60 strenuous feet, we pushed and pulled with fingers and toes through the near-claustrophobic tunnel.

From room to room we traveled. The ceilings were covered with various sized stalactites, and often huge stalagmites grew from the floors. For millions of years tiny droplets of water deposited molecules of limestone. They grew into impressive, often beautiful shapes of nature.

At one point, we crawled on small ledges on each side of a seemingly bottomless crevasse. Somewhere far below, we could hear the trickling of water, as it created a new network of caves. We climbed small cliffs and descended into other chambers until we finally reached the main room. "The cathedral" had a semi-smooth ceiling that was covered with little gray-furred bats. Millions of them hung upside down from above. They were the only living creatures that inhabited the total darkness of the cavern.

We had reached our destination. It was time to head back. We traveled the same route toward the surface. In "the gun barrel" we could feel things tapping against our boots and hard hats. They were bats. We were blocking their way, as they also headed for the open air above. Each night millions of these little mammals fly out of the cave to dine on insects, before returning to the caverns again in the morning.

We reached the grassy pasture just in time to witness a swarming cloud of bats head off toward the Schoharie Creek. Success was ours. It was a magnificent experience I will never forget. It was one of those forever memories. We had journeyed deep into the earth in search of adventure and found it. Sometimes, it is not that easy.

A few years ago, a spelunker got caught in that same cavern. He was unable to get back through "the gun barrel." Water, rushing down into the narrow cave, took his life before he could be rescued. Things like that can sometimes happen. It's too bad, but often we misjudge things. Whether we're climbing mountains, diving into oceans or exploring caves in Schoharie County, we must be ever aware of the power and sometimes cruel face of nature.

Rick Brockway writes a weekly outdoors column for The Daily Star. E-mail him at brockway@dmcom.net.