Today we will be looking at two horrifying caving stories that went horribly wrong. The first one is devastating where the cave diver became so hopeless with his misery that he ended his nightmare by stabbing himself. You heard that right. As always, viewer discretion is advised. Off the coast of Croatia sits Schulta Island.
Only 19 km long by 5 km wide. This tiny island is a short ferry ride and an ideal day trip from Split, which is Croatia’s second biggest city. It’s a hilly island with beautiful pebble beaches and absolutely crystal clear water. It’s a very popular tourist destination that’s actually famous for its honey, as well as an underwater cave that kills virtually everyone who goes inside.
On September 10th, 2002, 31-year-old Miruslav Cucas was enjoying a vacation with friends on Schula Island. It was a little after 8:30 in the evening when one of his friends suggested they go scuba diving. Because of its beautiful clear waters, Schula Island is a very popular scuba diving destination. And as such, scuba diving takes place at all hours around the island.
The vast majority of diving happens in safe little places where it’s not very deep and you can see fish and wildlife in a very controlled environment. But Miruslav and his friends didn’t want to do regular scuba diving. They wanted to check out the underwater cave they had heard about just south of Schulta Island in Pogan Bay.
They had heard this cave was extremely dangerous and only expert divers were allowed to go in there. Even though they were not expert divers, barely novice divers, they thought, “How bad can it be? Let’s go check it out for ourselves.” So, they convinced one of the boat drivers to take them out to the area in Pogan Bay that sat over where this cave entrance was.
They put on their gear, hopped in his boat, drove out, and jumped in the water. Sure enough, right below the surface, about 10 m down, was this hole on the seafloor. The single entrance into this cave. When you go in this hole, you have to go down head first because it’s so tight. Once you go down about 10 m, you reach this junction where to one side it leads to the shallow gallery, which is the space that goes down to 36 m with no other caves or entrances off of it.
It’s just kind of like a chasm inside of a cave. From the junction, if you go the other way, it brings you to the deep gallery, which is just a bigger version of the shallow gallery and goes down to 57 m. Inside the deep gallery, however, at the very top on the ceiling, there is a very thin air pocket.
There are several reasons why this cave is so dangerous beyond just being an underwater cave, which in itself is quite dangerous. The first is that visibility inside the cave is basically zero. The only light that comes in is through that single entrance that leads to the junction, but the light doesn’t make it past the junction into the two galleries.
So, it is truly pitch black inside those galleries. You also have all the silt that’s caked to the inside of the cave. So, as soon as you get in there, your flippers and your movement kick the silt off the wall and muddy the water around you. Even if you had a flashlight, it’s like driving in fog. The lights only pick up the fog right in front of you.
You can’t see beyond the fog. In a tunnel, you shine your light on silt, and you’re just going to see the silt, not beyond it. So, basically, going into this cave, you’re going to be blindfolded. A little after 9:15 p.m., Miruslav goes in first, followed by his other two friends. Miruslav reaches the junction, and he turns towards the deep gallery.
He goes all the way down to 57 m, touches the bottom, turns around, and starts making his ascent. On the way up, he gets to the junction and makes the critical mistake of going into the shallow gallery, believing that is the exit of the cave. He probably got in there, bumped his head, started feeling around. He’s kicking up silt. He’s starting to panic.
He’s looking for the way out again. He finds the exit to the junction, but instead of taking the exit out of the cave, he makes the same mistake again and goes into the deep gallery. Now he’s in the deep gallery, feeling around, running low on air. Based on his dive computer, he was fumbling around in there for quite some time.
At some point, Miruslav must have looked at his air gauge and realized, “I’m out of air now.” And he made one last push to try to get to the surface, but he hit a ceiling. That’s when he realized based on maybe the touch and feel, maybe he took his gloves off and was feeling around. He felt that he was in the air pocket.
That thin amount of air that sat right at the top of the deep gallery. He must have realized at this point that there was so little air here that he probably only had a few minutes before he was going to drown. In terms of making his ascent to the surface on a single breath, Miroslav’s only hope was the air pocket in the deep gallery.
He likely knew the cave well enough to remember this. In his mind, he was probably estimating his depth, 40, maybe 50 meters beneath the surface and realizing just how little oxygen he had left in his lungs. Every second, his chest was tightening. The crushing pressure of the water and the mounting carbon dioxide in his system would have been pushing his body into panic.
He couldn’t stay where he was, and he couldn’t make the journey upward without blacking out. The thought of drowning, thrashing helplessly as water filled his lungs, was becoming inevitable. Faced with that terrifying certainty, he made a decision no diver ever wants to consider. With the clarity that sometimes comes in the final moments, Miruslav reached for the dive knife strapped to his gear.
He gripped it, stealed himself, and drove it into his chest, piercing his heart. It was quick. Later, when authorities performed his autopsy, it would confirm the unthinkable truth. Miroslav did not drown. He had died by his own hand, choosing it over the slow agony of suffocation. Back on the surface, the two other divers in his group had already exited the cave system without issue.
They were in the boat waiting, scanning the surface of the water for signs of Miruslav. Time ticked by, 10 minutes, 20, then 30. After over an hour had passed with no sign of him, their concern turned to fear. They called the police, who responded quickly and sent two trained cave divers into the submerged tunnel system to search for Miruslav.
One of those divers was 25-year-old Oliver Mirage, a capable and physically fit professional, but not yet experienced with this particular cave’s notorious layout. He and his partner descended into the dark, narrow corridors, their lights cutting through the silty water as they searched for any sign of Miruslav.
But the cave was a labyrinth, and visibility was poor. With time and oxygen running low, they prepared to abort the mission and ascend. But as they made their way out, Oliver misjudged the route, just like Miruslav had before him, and became disoriented in the network of underwater chambers. Specifically, he became trapped in the shallow gallery, a deceptive area that leads many divers to think they’re close to escape.
His partner had made the same mistake briefly, but had managed to reverse course and find the correct exit path. Oliver, however, was not so fortunate. He went back and forth in desperation between the deep gallery and the shallow gallery, trying to orient himself, but every wrong turn brought him closer to exhaustion.
In the end, he couldn’t find his way out. His tank ran dry, and Oliver Mirage drowned in the same cave where Miruslav had died just hours before. It would take the police three long days to locate and recover both Miruslav and Oliver from the twisted passages of that cave. By then, the story had made headlines, and the site gained a grim reputation.
Even today, local authorities actively warn divers to stay away from this cave unless they have extensive experience with deep technical diving and the mental discipline to handle extreme stress. Despite the warnings, year after year, reckless or overconfident divers still try to test their luck. And tragically, many make the same fatal mistakes, misjudging the galleries, running out of air, and becoming yet another name in a growing list of victims claimed by the cave.
This next story is about a caver who got lost in a maze, and then things went from bad to worse. On December 31st, 1990, near Santaita Mountains, Kevin Sears and his friend were heading towards another adventure. At 21 years old, with several caves already explored, they felt confident about their return to Aua Caliente Cave on the last day of the year.
The limestone formation nestled in the western foothills south of Tucson, Arizona, had beckoned them back to explore its deeper passages. The weather was chilly, but both young men wore only jeans and short-sleeve shirts, anticipating the constant 72° F, 22° C temperature that awaited them underground. Their tennis shoes, though lacking the ankle support of the proper caving boots, had served them well enough on previous adventures.
Each carried a flashlight, their only source of light. wrapped around Kevin’s shoulder hung 50 feet about 15 meters of half inch polyropylene rope essential for descending the vertical shaft known among cave explorers as the loop pit. Neither wore helmets despite the low ceilings and protruding rock formations that made head protection standard practice among experienced spelunkers.
At 11:00 a.m., they ducked through the upper entrance, a narrow opening in the hillside barely large enough for a person to squeeze through. The passageway narrowed in places, forcing them to crawl on hands and knees over rough stone that scraped their unprotected limbs. Kevin and his friend had no formal map, but relied on memory from their previous exploration when they had traversed the loop, a circular route through the cave system in the counterclockwise direction as far as the white sand room, a chamber named for its
unusual floor of pale fine sediment that resembled a miniature beach. Today, they would attempt the clockwise route, planning to complete the full loop and exit through the lower entrance without needing to climb back up the way they came. Eight minutes of careful movement brought them to the loop pit, a vertical shaft dropping 40 feet, approximately 12 meters, to the lower level of the cave.
They secured their rope to a natural anchor point, a sturdy rock protrusion and performed a quick check by tugging firmly on it. With their rigging complete, they began their descent one at a time. Without proper repelling gear, specialized equipment used cave explorers to control their descent on a rope.
They lowered themselves hand overhand, a technique that requires considerable upper body strength and carries significant risk if the climber loses their grip. With the loop pit conquered, they continued their clockwise journey through narrow tunnels that occasionally widened into rooms large enough to stand upright. By 100 p.m.
, they had reached the white sand room, a chamber roughly 30 ft across with a ceiling just high enough to stand. The fine pale sediment crunched beneath their shoes as they swept their flashlights around, searching for the passage they had used during their previous visit. Minutes stretched into a half hour as they explored every crevice and opening they could find.
But the familiar route eluded them. The similarity of rock formations and the disorienting nature of underground navigation had confused them. As they ventured deeper, they felt as if they were ending back to the starting point. Everything seemed uncannily similar. The tunnel would narrow down, then widen up into a room, and then this would keep on happening.
They started to panic and could feel they were lost. However, the only thing that kept them hopeful was that they were going in one direction only and followed one passage only. Eventually, they were forced to acknowledge defeat. Their plan to complete the loop had failed, meaning they would need to return the way they came, back up the rope at the loop pit.
With growing concern about the time, now 1:30 p.m., they retraced their steps. The journey back to the pit took longer than expected as fatigue began to set in. They still didn’t know if they were going back to the pit or were actually lost. But they stayed calm and followed their gut.
Their flashlights, which had seemed bright upon entry, now appeared dimmer as their batteries gradually depleted. Finally, a sense of relief came in as they were able to recognize the loot pit. Now all they had to do was climb up and get out. At the base of the loop pit, Kevin prepared for the ascent. Looking up at the distant circle of darkness that marked the upper level, he gripped the rope firmly and began pulling himself upward, hand overhand, foot by foot, he climbed slowly through the darkness.
The rough polyropylene fibers bit into his palms as sweat began to make his grip uncertain. Nearly at the top, with muscles burning from exertion, Kevin encountered a section of the pit wall covered in flow stone, a smooth, hard mineral deposit created by water flowing over the surface over thousands of years. His tennis shoes with their flexible rubber soles now coated in cave dust, found no purchase on the slick surface.
For a moment, he hung suspended by the strength in his arms alone. Then his grip failed. The fall lasted only seconds, but time seemed to stretch as Kevin plummeted through the darkness. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around his head for protection as he crashed onto the cave floor. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs, but left him otherwise intact.
He was in pain, but after catching his breath and assessing that no serious damage had been done, Kevin approached the rope once more, determined to conquer the obstacle. Again, he climbed, arms trembling now with fatigue. and the after effects of adrenaline. Again, he reached the treacherous Flowstone section. And again, despite his careful movements, his feet slipped from beneath him.
This time, as he fell, something went terribly wrong. He landed awkwardly, a searing pain exploding through his leg and hip. The cave’s dusty floor pressed against his cheek as waves of agony washed over him. Each attempt to stand sent fresh bolts of pain through his body. his femur, the large bone in the upper leg, and possibly his pelvis had fractured from the impact.
Immobilized by injury and trapped hundreds of feet from the surface, Kevin faced a cave explorer’s nightmare. His friend, realizing the severity of the situation, made the difficult decision to leave Kevin alone while he sought help. The solo ascent up the rope was arduous, but fear and urgency lent him strength. Emerging from the cave into the afternoon sunshine felt surreal after the close darkness below.
The nearest telephone lay miles away across rugged terrain. It was nearly 300 p.m. when the emergency call was finally placed, setting in motion the complex machinery of cave rescue. The Southern Arizona Rescue Association, SAR, received notification at 700 p.m. and locals with knowledge of Aua Caliente, began arriving at the scene between 7:30 and 8:30 p.m.
As darkness fell outside, cave rescuers, trained volunteers skilled in the specialized techniques required for underground emergencies, descended into Awa Caliente. They found Kevin conscious but in extreme pain, having Lane injured in the complete darkness for hours after his flashlight batteries had failed. The rescue team’s first priority was medical assessment and stabilization.
They carefully secured Kevin to a backboard to immobilize his spine and potential fractures. An intravenous line was inserted to provide fluids, though no pain medication, food, or water was administered due to the uncertainty of his injuries and the potential need for emergency surgery. Upon reaching the hospital, extracting an injured person from a cave presents unique challenges unlike those of surface rescues.
The team had to rig four separate hauling systems, mechanical advantage setups using ropes and pulleys to overcome the vertical obstacles between Kevin and the surface. These included the 40ft loop pit where the accident occurred, the climb into what was called the register room, named for a log book kept there for visitors to sign, the awkwardly angled beer can slide, and finally the climb out through the lower entrance.
Throughout nearly the entire route, Kevin was bellayed, secured with safety lines to prevent any further falls, as rescuers painstakingly transported him through narrow passages never designed for human transit, much less for moving an immobilized person on a rigid backboard. At 11:15 p.m., nearly 12 hours after entering the cave, Kevin was hauled upward through the loop pit where his ordeal had begun.
At the top, he was transferred to a Stokes litter, a specialized basket stretcher designed for difficult evacuations, and the slow process continued as the final minutes of the year ticked away. Rescuers worked tirelessly in the confined spaces, communicating through shouts that echoed off limestone walls. The night air held a biting chill when Kevin finally emerged from the lower entrance at 200 a.m. on New Year’s Day.
Under normal circumstances, the cave’s constant temperature would have been comfortably warm compared to the winter night. But hypothermia had become a concern due to Kevin’s immobility and the trauma his body had endured. 30 minutes later, Kevin was airlifted to the University Medical Center. There, doctors were surprised to discover that despite the excruciating pain and apparent injury, no bones were actually broken.
His body was battered with abrasions and contusions, bruises and scrapes from his falls and the rescue. But he had miraculously avoided fractures.
