No Way Out

Six Caving Buddies Set Off For A Day Of Adventure. By Nightfall, Only Four Of Them Had Emerged From The Deep.

- Lisa Fitterman

THE RAIN COMES DOWN steady and hard. Jason Storie hears it but is not worried as he prepares for a day of caving with five friends in a remote spot 80 miles northwest of his home in Duncan, on Canada’s Vancouver Island.

He is dressed for the wet weather— and for just about any other predicament: a T-shirt, then two sweatshirts, a pair of overalls, neoprene socks, a water-resistant jacket, and rubber boots. Under his arm, he proudly carries his new helmet and headlamp.

“Sleep in,” he whispers, bending down to kiss his wife, Caroline Storie. 

“Be careful,” she says. 

“Always.” 

It’s 6 a.m. on December 5, 2015. A newcomer to the sport, Jason has gone caving only four times. This will be his toughest outing yet: a cave called Cascade. It’s dangerous enough that the entry is blocked by a locked metal door to keep the casual spelunker out; the key can be obtained only after everyone in the caving party signs a waiver. About a mile long and 338 feet deep, Cascade is full of turns and barely passable tight squeezes—a claustrophobe’s nightmare.

Jason is the outlier among the group, with the least experience and, at 43, older by a decade or more. A stocky father of two toddlers, he is a university drama graduate turned entrepreneur, the owner of a window-washing company. It was his friend Andrew Munoz, 33, who introduced him to the sport. Unlike Jason, Andrew is an expert caver—a former caving guide, actually—and a wiry paramedic who would know what to do if something were to go wrong.