Gardner Cave holds both breathtaking beauty and a sobering history. Alongside glittering formations are scars of human carelessness: graffiti and broken stalagmites, most of it left behind between the 1950s and 1970s, before guided tours and gates protected the cave. My sixth-grade Waldorf students were disheartened by the carved names, the missing formations, and the reminders of what had been lost.
But one inscription stopped us in our tracks: “Pearl Troyer, 1912.”
Reaching Gardner Cave in 1912 would not have been easy. From the nearest town, Metaline, the journey was nearly thirteen miles, a five-hour trek on foot or two hours on horseback, with no paved or gravel roads to ease the way. Pearl Troyer, a young schoolteacher, made that journey. By the dim light of a lantern, she ventured into the cave and left her name at the base of a towering column, neatly written in pencil. A column is formed when a stalactite and a stalagmite grow together into one. Unlike the gouged graffiti that scarred so much of the cave, Pearl’s name was left in a medium that could be erased, a fleeting mark of her presence rather than a wound on the stone. The careful handwriting revealed her profession and her humility.
Pearl Troyer, 1912
Our own tour was bright and safe, with sturdy stairs guiding us down. At the deepest landing, the guide turned out the lights. In that instant, I could not see my hand before my face. The guide explained that in this cave, our eyes would never adjust to the black. The darkness was complete, pressing in from every side, as if the cave itself had swallowed us.
The thought of Pearl, lantern in hand, pressing deeper into that same unrelenting darkness, struck us all. She must have been extraordinarily brave. Standing there, my students and I felt a quiet admiration. We would have loved to meet her.
Ms. St. Pierre’s 6th grade class, at Gardner Caves.