It’s called a squeeze box. It simulates the tightness of a passage, Hurricane Corner, in Jewel Cave National Monument. People traveling on the three and a half hour, Wild Caving Tour, are required to pass through the box before being allowed to enter the cave. If you can’t squeeze through, you can’t go on the trip and you don’t get your money back. The outside of the box proclaims the dimensions as 8-1/2 inch by 24-inch. I thought I would give it a try. I laid down on my back and tried to negotiate the space. The button on my shirt caught on the top. I gave up and went on the tour for which I had tickets. It only required that I was able to get in an elevator and then negotiate 734 stairs. The tour was fantastic. The guide was engaging and the cave delightful and actually very cool. After nearly and hour and a half we were on the surface and headed to the cars. I saw the squeeze box. I took off my button up shirt and tried again. I was not able to compress into the space. I got up defeated. I will never be able to take the Wild Cave Tour at Jewel Cave.
The week before, I had gone on the Wild Cave Tour at Wind Cave National Park. It also required passing through a squeeze box before entering the cave. The dimensions were 10 inches by 30 inches. I was able to squeeze through like a tough bit of toothpaste, but I was able to proceed the the actual cave. With knee pads, elbow pads, a helmet, 3 lights and boots we entered the dark chamber. Immediately we were on our hands and knees traveling through a tunnel. It opened into a large room. We followed this same routine for a couple of hours. We climbed up chimney like structure that required a person to climb about 30 feet up. We did it one at a time. I was the last to go up. It meant that I was alone, in the dark, waiting for my turn. It was a little strange.
We were two hours from the end of the tour when we reached the tight point. Again, I was last to go as I was taking up the post of the responsible adult (they did not know me at all). I watched as person after person descended down a very tiny hole. Finally, my turn came. I sat down and started sliding. After about four feet I reached the spot. My legs slid though with no problem, my stomach was sucked in tight and passed easily. I got to my chest and I was wedged in the hole. It was only for a few moments, but the panic in my brain was real. I stopped. Calmed my breathing. I exhaled and pushed. The protruding rock scraped a little valley in my sternum, but I slid free.
The people below could not see my face or my panic. They could not hear my heart, but I could. As soon as I got through, they charged into the next challenge. It reminds me, that we frequently do not know what other people are going through. We don’t know how good people are at masking their pain and deflecting our questions. Slow down, look around. I bet someone you know needs a little boost today.