Tackle Sorting Day - April 2026

Have you ever used any of the Crew’s tackle or gear?

Ever been glad it has been fit for use, and hasn’t let you down? (Or has only let you down at the right speed?)

This Saturday 18th April, from 11am, we’ll be going through all our Crew-gear and inspecting and sorting it and checking we have what we think we should have.

We’re looking for hands to help us make it light work. Even if you can only come for 30 minutes, it’ll help speed things up massively.

There’ll be free food, free beverages, free dog cuddles, free parking, free bad dad jokes, free gear advice and eternal gratitude from the people who use the gear in the Crew.

Things we’ll likely need to inspect

• Helmets and headlamps
• SRT Kits and SRT Leader Kits
• Rigging karabiners
• Ropes
• Oversuits
• Undersuits
• Leader bags and emergency kit

If you’re saying “but I don’t know anything about inspecting gear” — if you were given an undersuit, could you tell me if it had the right number of holes, and read out the number written on it? Just reading out the numbers on kit can be very helpful — whether you’re new to caving or an old hand, that’s usually not beyond you!

One of the wonderful things about our Crew is that all the Crew gear is available for us to use when we need it, so it’ll be nice to get together and make sure it’s all happy and ready to go for a summer of caving!

Message Judith for the address in Glossop.

Twelve people spent their Saturday reading three-digit numbers off labels and shouting them across a cellar in Glossop. Voluntarily.

Once a year, the Crew gathers to inspect every piece of kit we own. Every oversuit, every helmet, every carabiner, every welly.

Fourteen boxes of the stuff, all stored in Judith’s cellar, all needing someone to check them, log them, and confirm they still have the correct number of holes.

Johnny set the tone early.

In the group chat, days before: “Have you considered tackle checking day karaoke?”

Judith’s response: “Some of the time.”

He’d had Anastacia’s “Left Outside Alone” stuck in his head for two weeks. The rest of us were warned.

Rachel messaged the night before to check nobody minded her lingering cough. “I’m feeling normal and all good to help,” she said.

She arrived at half ten, sorted the first aid kits and spent the afternoon checking ropes and helmets with Mark.

Sandra turned up around one with her brother Robert. Neither of them had met any of us before. We gave them the wellies, half of which didn’t exist in the system yet. They sorted every pair without complaint with Rio’s support, which is more patience than most people would show on a first encounter with a caving club’s filing habits.

Mark brought his kids, who spent hours building marble races out of Lego while their dad worked through the ropes. They were, by several accounts, more polite than the adults.

Łukasz, James, Paul and Johnny powered through the metalwork: SRT kits, carabiners, descenders.

Julia and Rachel tackled the oversuits.

Separate teams worked in parallel, each with someone driving a tablet and someone else squinting at serial numbers on faded labels. It looked like a very niche escape room.

By three o’clock, it was done. Previous years, this has dragged into early evening with fewer people.

Judith’s verdict: “That we finished way earlier than on previous occasions, and with my head still in one piece, is all due to your wonderful efforts.”

Tim’s toddler turned up at the end of the day offering ice cream from an imaginary shop, telling everyone where to put the table, and explaining train names to his grandmother. Nobody put him on the rota, but he was arguably the most confident person in the building.

Fourteen boxes. Twelve people. Four and a half hours. And nobody sang Anastacia. That we know of.