At this very moment there are people underground in west-central Kentucky.

Some are there to tour the cave. Some are there to explore. Others are there to participate in America's premier underground restoration project, the Restoration Field Camp at Mammoth Cave.

For the past decade and beyond, thousands of cavers from across the country have gathered at Mammoth Cave National Park to repair the damage caused by more than a century of tourism.

Underground Legacy is not just an account of cave restoration, however. It is a personal journey of exploration and discovery. Follow the author through muddy underground crawlways and up dangerous climbs, learning along the way that cave exploration can injure, and sometimes kill.

 . . .when those volunteers and I leave this world, a small part of it, Mammoth Cave, is better off because we visited there. It is our legacy.

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Introduction from 

Underground Legacy

Absolute darkness! So complete, I could feel it against my skin. It was impossible to see anything. I waved my hand in front of my eyes to test it... Nothing.

I reached into my pack for a water bottle and after quenching my thirst, spit a mouthful into the water reservoir of my carbide lamp. While not a very genteel way of filling one of these things, it worked, and avoided spilling any of the precious liquid. I fingered the carbide in the lamp bottom, gauging how much was left and added several small chunks. Earlier, I had planned for a certain margin of error and thought there was enough. Now I questioned that decision. Safety, I scolded myself. Always think of safety . . .  

I struck the lighter mechanism and the lamp popped to life. A bright yellow-white flame filled the room with light. The tension drained from my neck and shoulders, and only then did I realize that I had been holding my breath. It was time to move foreword. After attaching the lamp to my helmet and adjusting the heavy, black-rubber kneepads, I shouldered my pack. I was ready, and carefully picked my way down to the floor just below.

Inching forward, I fantasized that yawning caverns were just ahead. Caverns filled with beautiful and rare formations. Caverns filled with mystery and adventure. I imagined wonderful discoveries just around the next corner; maybe some mighty underground river or a deep canyon. The lamp illuminated the walls and ceiling… both smooth and flat. The light danced and flickered with my every movement, causing a chorus line of shadows to dance and flicker in response.

Objects around me took on a strange and surreal appearance: canned goods, boxes of winter clothes, and tools in neat rows along the wall. The washer and dryer both looked odd and spectral. I crawled into the storage area under the stairs, over boxes of books and old magazines—imagining I was caving with the great explorers of Mammoth Cave, pushing a tight lead to the very end. . .

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