Protecting the Glowworm Cave was an urgent priority. After sealing off the entrance, Wang Bo immediately ordered Uncle Bing to contact a tech company to install surveillance cameras at the site.
To protect the cave, one must first understand it—and in this regard, Porter was the expert. His construction company wasn’t just a group of builders; it also had specialists in geology and terrain analysis.
Just like in a gold mine survey, the experts compiled a formal report detailing the cave’s conditions.
Porter personally delivered the small report booklet to Wang Bo, sighing as he said, “You were right. This cave is breathtaking beyond imagination. When my men and I first went down there, we were all stunned.”
Exploration required entering the cave to collect data. Wang Bo approved the engineers’ entry, but with strict conditions—they were only allowed to collect test samples and leave. No lighting, no construction, and no interference.
Opening the report, Wang Bo said, “You guys are fast. The gold mine exploration took more than ten days, but this one only took two.”
Porter chuckled. “We’re professionals. But honestly, I wish we could have stayed down there longer. It’s so beautiful—especially when we went to collect water. Standing on the surface, it felt like being surrounded by a sea of stars.”
He shook his head in wonder. “I’ve seen glowworm caves before, but why do none of the others have scenery this stunning?”
Wang Bo, who had spent the past two days studying karst caves, knew the answer. “Because ours has never been disturbed by external forces. It’s in its completely natural, pristine state. Other caves? They’ve been illuminated by artificial lights, scorched by torches, even littered with garbage. They’ve already been damaged—some severely.”
That was exactly why he had insisted on caution from the very beginning. The first rule of environmental protection: if you don’t know how to preserve it, don’t touch it.
Next, Porter began introducing the cave’s geological composition. To protect the glowworms, they had to begin by protecting their habitat.
“This cave is made of limestone, just like most others in New Zealand. It was formed from countless fossilized remains of ancient marine organisms.”
“If you know the geological history of New Zealand’s North and South Islands, you’d know that 30 million years ago this area was underwater, deep beneath the ocean. Over the next 24 million years, the land underwent countless geological changes—crustal movements, volcanic activity, and so on. Layers of hard limestone were twisted, uplifted to the surface, and then gradually eroded by rainwater to form the cave as we see it today.”
“You know how it works—rainwater combines with carbon dioxide in the air to form a weak acid that slowly erodes the rock over time. Cracks expand into stalactites and stalagmites, creating the magnificent underground scenery we see now.”
“According to our experts’ calculations, it takes roughly a hundred years for just three cubic centimeters of stalactite to form. But that speed can vary depending on terrain, vegetation, limestone density, internal and external climate, and the age of the cave.”
Wang Bo nodded. “So the stalactites in the cave have taken that long to grow!”
“Time isn’t the only factor,” Porter explained. “Coincidence plays a role too. For instance, two stalactites forming side by side may have different water flow paths, growing at different speeds, and over time they merge into strange, unique shapes.”
“What about our cave?” Wang Bo asked.
“This cave is a very rare active limestone cave. Based on carbon-14 testing of samples from different sections, we estimate it formed around fifteen thousand years ago.”
Then Porter added, “Oh—and I forgot to tell you the most important thing. The cave lies directly beneath a lake—its ceiling is the lakebed of Lake Hawea! The water in the cave comes straight from the lake above.”
“My team studied the geological evolution of this region. It seems there used to be a small, enclosed lake here, separated from Lake Hawea.”
“That small lake was once frozen, but as the climate warmed, the ice and snow melted, seeping into the limestone cracks below and slowly eroding the rock into a cave.”
“You might not believe it, but this cave is actually quite young—it’s still growing. If left undisturbed, in another ten or twenty thousand years, the ceiling might thin under the pressure of the lake water and eventually collapse, merging with Lake Hawea. That’s why I said it’s a living cave—it’s still evolving.”
Wang Bo frowned. “And the ceiling? Is it under any immediate risk? I don’t care about what happens in ten thousand years—I care about what happens in the next one or two.”
“Since our survey was limited, we didn’t examine every corner,” Porter replied. “We used echo meters and radiometric tools for a general analysis. Compared to the side walls, the ceiling’s current load pressure is minimal—there’s no danger.” He smiled reassuringly.
That eased Wang Bo’s mind. Such a stunning natural wonder deserved to shine in the world’s landscape heritage, not vanish quietly before anyone could admire it.
The current report was only preliminary—further exploration was planned. After all, developing a cave for tourism requires extremely strict geological certification; even a small miscalculation leading to a collapse would mean disaster—no one would make it out alive.
Afterward, Wang Bo and Porter discussed development plans. Since the cave extended in the direction of the lake, it wouldn’t interfere with the construction of the lakeside running track. Wang Bo proposed continuing the track but prohibiting bicycles or vehicles in that section.
Porter agreed and suggested building a fully wooden pathway instead. On the northeastern side of the lake, they would clear the weeds, lay a solid foundation, and then construct a wooden running platform on top.
Wood has excellent strength and vibration dispersion, so when people run, the impact would spread across the surface rather than concentrate on a single spot—minimizing damage to the ground below.
The goal, of course, was to protect the cave.
While the force of a single person’s footsteps might not affect the cave walls, collective vibration from many runners could create resonance. If those vibrations transmitted through the rock, they might disturb the glowworms’ ecosystem.
The larvae of glowworms cling to the cave walls and rely on sensing subtle vibrations on their silk threads to detect prey. Excess vibration would confuse them into thinking food had arrived, causing them to waste energy searching.
With that in mind, Porter took the preliminary construction plan back for expert review.
Wang Bo’s attitude toward the cave was clear: Only develop it if it can be fully protected. If protection isn’t certain—then it won’t be touched at all.
Discussion
Comments
0 comments so far.
Sign in to join the conversation and keep your activity tied to this account.
No comments yet. Start the conversation.