Atheromancy -- an ancient caving ritual
I joined CUCC in 1965, my first year at Cambridge. I did not drift into caving – the darkness had charmed me with its siren song.
After a few introductory trips, I eventually got to go on weekends away with the club, and was initiated into the rituals of CUCC communal catering. One of the traditions was The Making of the Porridge.
There was a half-serious belief in the omen revealed by its constituency. There was nothing complicated, no list of portents according to its exact state, but simply if the porridge thickened a good trip would follow, and if it didn’t the trip would be shambolic. Thus was I introduced to the mysteries of atheromancy.
Because no-one ever actually recorded the state of the porridge, the reliability of the predictions was never verified. The most straightforward interpretations could be assigned to particular conditions. For instance, lumpy, and there would be problems with boulders; too thin, we would be held back by high water levels; too thick, we would encounter lots of mud; burnt…hmm. What would that mean? Exploding carbide, perhaps. Or shorting lamp cables. But the Fates can be devious, and the true interpretations could be less than obvious. For example, there are other less serious shambles that could arise - can’t find the entrance, a wetsuit zip bust, the tackle for last pitch got forgotten.
Clive Westlake relates how he climbed Illimani in Bolivia with the expedition cook: “At Oh Dear 000hrs we cooked porridge and I insisted it thickened and he insisted on flavouring it with cinnamon. I thought cinnamon comes in a packet from Sainsbury's, but found out it’s tree bark. Anyway cinnamon flavoured - and textured - porridge is bloody excellent, and we knocked off the mountain.”
Perhaps the phenomenon should be examined in a more controlled fashion. There’s a subject for a proper study. I wonder if you could get a grant for it.
On the other hand anyone reading this balderdash may wonder at students of a university of some repute having such a fixation with cooking porridge and reliving it forty years on. Clive confesses to “remain anxious that it [porridge] should thicken.” Maybe the distinguished speleo-psychiatrist, Dr.Gareth Jones could diagnose the disorder?
Joe Duxbury, with contributions from Clive Westlake