It was pitch black, a uniform darkness that was completely disorientating. How stupid could I have been? As a regular caver I knew the rules: never explore on your own, double check all your equipment being two of the most important.

I had planned this trip to a cave in the Peak District with a friend. At the last minute she was unable to join me, so I decided to go it alone. First mistake. Having recently replaced the battery in my headtorch, I assumed it would be fine. Second mistake. I had parked my car in a village near Castleton, and walked up into the hills to the entrance of the cave. It was a favourite of mine, and one I had explored several times. Making my way down a rocky descent and following a shallow stream into the depths of the hillside, I soon had to crawl through a narrow water filled tunnel and then wriggle my way through narrow passages until eventually emerging into a cavern with the most beautiful stalactites and stalagmites. It was experiences like this that made the discomfort of the activity worthwhile. I sat on a rock enjoying the ethereal display before me; then suddenly it vanished and I was plunged into darkness. Luckily I did have a spare battery in my bag, so a disaster was averted, but it made me realise how fine was the line between survival and tragedy.

With my head torch up and running again, I felt inspired to venture further into the cave system and the best part of a day went by while I explored passages, and found new caverns, before slowly making my way back to the entrance. I emerged into the late afternoon sunshine of a beautiful autumn day, but something felt amiss. The trees were glowing with fiery reds and golds, sheep were placidly munching in the fields, and a solitary kite wheeled across the sky. All seemed well with the world and yet, I couldn’t put my finger on it, there was a feeling of disquiet.

I made my way down the track, passing a tractor, stationary in the middle of a field. Slightly strange, no sign of a farm worker, but no doubt there was some explanation. Passing though a farmyard I was again aware of a rather unnerving silence, until two barking dogs careered around the corner of the house in a state of agitation. I tried to calm them and then went on my way. Arriving at a road, I was shocked to see a car in a ditch and another slewed across the tarmac. Both drivers appeared to be lifeless. Shaking, I pulled out my phone to call the emergency services - but there was no answer. Now, thoroughly alarmed, I made my way into the village. A man lay on the pavement, a woman with a pram sat with unseeing eyes on a seat, and a glance through a shop window was enough to fill me with horror.

Whatever devastating catastrophe had happened while I was exploring that cave, there was no doubt that I was now completely alone.