Going underground
Exploring the labyrinthine caves beneath one of Budapest’s wealthiest suburbs.
“Oh my God, I’m stuck!” — the thought races through my head as I desperately struggle to free my left arm from several thousand of tons of rock. My feet scrabble on the dusty floor with not even a hint of success. Panic rises as I realise this time I may have bitten off more than I can chew.
I was warned. Previous visitors were quick to say that if you’re not a fan of confined spaces exploring the Pál-völgyi-Mátyás-hegyi caves probably isn’t that great an idea. But, of course, I wouldn’t listen. How could I miss out on one of the top things to do in Budapest?
Plus, people always exaggerate how bad things are.
Don’t they?
Beginning to hyperventilate I realise I’m going nowhere until, with one great heave, a friendly hand pulled my arm free and the rest of my body through the tiny gap in the rock.
Panting, I roll onto my hands and knees, my face covered in dirt and a thin sheen of sweat that does little to conceal the pallid grey of someone who has found themselves in well over their head. “Caving is a team sport” our hyperactive Hungarian guide reminds us before inviting us to slide headfirst down a stone tube only marginally wider than the one I had just escaped.
“Does anyone ever have a panic attack?” a member of the group asks barely concealing their own fragile state. “Never” claims our guide, “people freak out as soon as we get them into the tunnel if they’re going to”, referring to the low-roofed Nazi bunker through which we had entered the cave system.
Not comforted but knowing that I was beyond the point of no return I take a few deep breaths and try to steady my nerves. The group laughs nervously at shared gallows humour while our number decreases one-by-one down the narrow stone chute. Then it was my turn.
Sliding and swearing I spill out the far end of the pipe and into a great underground cavern. Formed by the pressure of the thermal springs that make the city so famous, Budapest’s caves only became explorable as nearby Danube eroded itself towards sea level, draining the scaling mineral water along with it.
Above me, hundreds of tendrils carpet the ceiling — thread thin extensions of roots belonging to trees some 20 meters above our heads. With the warning not to touch anything above eye height for fear of triggering a collapse I duck these creepy reminders of the world above and rejoin the group.
Overhead the shadows cast against imprints of fossilised crustaceans by our flickering headlamps give them an eery sense of movement. Momentarily lost in thought, I perk up just in time to hear the guide explain that millions of years ago the entire area used to be under the sea.
Down stone slides and over piles of rock we slipped and climbed, initially thankful for our padded boiler suits before their thick-weaved fibres left everyone drenched in sweat. Before the tour they had warned that the caves were a cool 10c and that we might get cold, halfway through and all I can think about is stripping off.
The guide, sensing that the group had finally overcome it’s early panic goads us through tighter and tighter cracks, eventually daring us to take on a tunnel so narrow that you have to turn your face on it’s side so you don’t bang your nose on the roof. “I’m not going to do this” I think to myself, “it isn’t even possible”.
One by one the rest of the team struggle through the tunnel until I’m alone in the dark.
The only thing worse than getting stuck is being left behind.
My arms stretched out to make myself as thin as possible, the rock still presses on both my front and back at the same time. Thanking my stars I’d skipped lunch, I shuffle inch by inch on my shoulder blades, unable to see the way out. After what feel like an eternity my head is free. I’ve made it! Reborn from the rock!
A few caverns more and it’s almost over. Just one more tiny hole to squeeze through and we’ll be back. I push, I struggle and then I’m free — the bunker that had seemed so intimidating just a few hours ago now a welcoming retreat. We emerge blinking into the light, every single member of the group buzzing from the rush of making it out alive.
I, for one, am grateful that a well-earned ice-cold beer awaits me back at my hostel and that the healing warmth of Budapest’s thermal baths will be able to work their magic on my aching back tomorrow.
Make it happen
The caving tour costs 5000 HUF (around £15) if you book it there which is an absolute bargain if you ask me. You can find out more on their website or book it online here for about £20.
I stayed in Carpe Noctem hostel in Pest and really liked it. It’s super friendly and has a great vibe so is perfect for solo travellers. While there’s plenty of party it all takes place out of the hostel so no stag groups (or rugby teams — sorry lads, you were just a bit too crazy for me) to contend with.
Easyjet from London to Budapest cost me £150 return but I only booked the week before so you can do way better (e.g. £50 return). If you don’t have exact dates Skyscanner is amazing.
If you’re going to do something crazy like caving it makes sense to have travel insurance that covers adventurous activities. I always use World Nomads as they aim themselves at adventure travellers but you should check that they meet your specific needs and theres’ no fine print.
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