Kim and I returned to the Ashdown forest with some major decisions to make. The quality of our relationship had changed radically since travelling together in India. Kim, dear Kim. A barrier had broken between us and we tottered on the edge of a whole new adventure. Anything was possible. You said that you would stay if I wanted, yet my feelings were definite. I decided to carry my adventure on alone, we said goodbye, and we haven't seen one another since.

Why? I don't know. I suspect that, while together, we acted as catalysts for each other in the unfolding of the crystal journey, enabling our energies to be boosted in ways not possible when alone. When the task was complete, there was no need for us to be together further.... or was there? Maybe it was simply my fear of becoming trapped in a 'steady' relationship. Maybe I was too immature to recognise our potential relationship as a new, special gateway that would take us on a magical adventure to the stars. Maybe it was just a simple situation where a decision, any decision, had to be made. And it was, consciously, with no blame. I have spent many hours wondering what would have happened if.....But I know that this is a hopeless dead-end passage to travel down. Maybe our parting will enable the memories of our time together to be vital and ever-fresh; perhaps this final action prevented our relationship from decaying into a low-energy meaningless hell. I choose to believe this version of reality.

Kim, I miss your crazy spontaneity, your exasperating honesty, and youthful energy. I wish you well and pray that, if in accordance with Spirit, we will someday meet and dance together again.

After Kim left my life, I cast out my net and caught an adventure with an immediacy that shocked me. The Himalayan crystals were all clear quartz. I then received a dream to find sources of clear quartz, amethyst, citrine and smoky quartz, in order to create a crystal mandala in different colours from the far quarters of these sacred lands. I knew that many beautiful smoky quartz crystals were to be found in the Cairngorm mountains in Scotland. In fact, 'Cairngorm' is synonymous with smoky quartz. Now was the time to check it out.

I arranged a lift up to Braemar, a beautiful village twenty miles south of the Cairngorm mountains, with some itinerant friends. I arrived one morning in May and bought supplies for my journey. I wanted to follow the river Dee into the mountains, a walk recommended to me by my father many years before. So I strode purposely out of Braemar that sunny spring day on a new adventure.

It was an exquisite walk through low, heathery land on the banks of an alive, playful river. My body was feeling a little stiff from inaction, yet it rejoiced in new freedom. My legs and thighs pounded their way across the flat land, and then I started to climb. The mountains were inviting and seemed to welcome me as I approached. Compared to the Himalayas they looked pretty tame, yet I knew that they nonetheless needed respect. I had decided to climb Ben McDui, and by late afternoon I was over half way up. It started to drizzle and I was by now very tired. I camped under an overhang and slipped into a very welcome sleep.

The next day I climbed to the top. The weather was fine, and from its summit there was an exquisite view which seemed to reach to the ends of the Earth. There was a lovely sunken valley to the east, filled with lochs like pearls strung together by silver twine: that was my goal, and where I would look for crystals during most of my time in these mountains. I climbed down and descended into the valley. On the map there was a cave marked and I wanted to use it as a base. I finally found it, a space underneath a fallen rock the size of a huge building. The floor wasn't very level but it was dry, and I knew I had found a good hidey-hole for the next couple of days.

I left my camping gear there and explored. There was a lot of crystal spoor to investigate, but I found no interesting specimens. I climbed the sides of the valley until the slopes reared into vertical cliffs, but the whole area seemed as if it had been completely covered over the years by people with climbing gear wielding little mineral hammers. After a fruitless day's search, I decided that I would have to be clever and try a new strategy. That night I slept in my cave. It was quite snug, and kept the weather at bay.

The next day I was eager to continue. Instead of the sheer valley walls, I directed my attention to the piles of huge rocks that had fallen in ages past to the valley bottom. Soon I had results. In hidden seams and crevices I found a fair number of small crystals. They were seldom very large, and all were encrusted with lichen. Towards the end of the day I found a beauty, a small cluster with points. At sunset as I sat contemplating my finds, I realised I had in fact found some lovely crystals.

That night the weather changed and it started to snow. The wind howled outside my shelter and I was very glad to be inside! I shared my space with two other mountaineers caught in the blizzard, and we spent two days resting and gathering our strength while the storm blew itself out. On the third day I emerged to a white and flashing crystal fairyland. I watched as my footprints followed my eager body up Mt Cairngorm to the summit where there is a cafe (horror, horror!). There I ate my first warm food for five days (hooray, hooray!), and I started to feel human again.

I divided up my crystal finds into three piles: the cluster for my personal use, which I would place into the British crystal mandala. Four other perfect crystals would travel with me around the world and would be given as gifts along the way. The rest I would keep as gifts for people and the land, and could be used for inserting into my staffs and wands. I was very happy with the results of my quest, and I thanked the spirits of the northern mountains for their gifts.

After the completion of my work in Sussex I had saved a considerable pile of money. It was time to decide what to do with it. I had always wanted to circumnavigate the globe, and on the way spend quality time in Australia. At last this was my well-earned chance! Many a fantasy of freedom and adventure flickered upon the screen of my fertile imagination. All ties were cut, and now I could hitch a ride with the wind.

As soon as I could manage it, I acquired a round-the-world airline ticket, and prepared for the off. With many a subterfuge to make my monetary resources seem swellingly healthy, visas tumbled into my bulging passport and I was ready. After a welcome rest in the Free State of Avalonia (Glastonbury), I boarded an aircraft pointing towards the eternal sunrise.

India felt good under my feet and its familiar haunting and exotic smells filled my senses again as if I had never left. This time I was drawn to the desert wonderland of Rajasthan. I visited the Vipassana meditation centre in the hills just out of Jaipur and wandered through the gardens there.

It was like a tropical paradise with tall green shady trees cascading over brilliantly coloured bursts of flora below. Scented plants and shrubs wafted hypnotic waves of perfume on the gentle breeze. Birds called and flitted through the foliage, chasing insects and sunbeams. I hadn't been to this particular centre before, and I loved its exotic desert beauty. I had the whole place to myself as no official course was being held at the time. Their policy was never to turn away a meditator in need of silence, and I was invited to undertake a 'self course' for ten days.

I had met the Vipassana people in 1981, on my first visit to India, and I owe them my life and my sanity. The practice is now part of my daily life and will continue so for the rest of my life, for the simple reason that it works. My thoughts moved to the first time I spent with them.

I am in Goa. My mental instability has got to the point where, unless a miracle happens, I know that I will very soon go hopelessly mad, die, or both. I meet an American psycho-analyst studying Tibetan meditation and we travel together for a few days. I am a mess, having lost my centre, and she is at her wit's end. She wants to help, yet doesn't need a totally dependant paranoid vegetable to lug around with her in addition to her own baggage. She tells me one evening after I have been wrestling with a coach-load of predatory skeletons that I have only one chance. There is a meditation course starting the next day about two hundred miles away. If I were to travel overnight, I might just make it. I know it is the only hope I have, and I catch the next bus to Bombay.

After an exhausting journey, I arrive at the meditation centre which perches on a round hill overlooking a noisy railway town called Igatpuri. As I walk under the tree cover and sit at last in the green shade of a huge mango tree outside the office, I look into the eyes of some of the meditators. They radiate a clarity that I have never seen before or known in this lifetime, especially in such numbers. I know without a doubt that I have come to the right place.

I need to agree to some basic rules of behaviour before they will let me enter the space: I vow for the duration of the course not to kill, to steal, to tell untruths, to consume intoxicating substances, or indulge in sexual misconduct. In short, I have to promise not to harm myself or others.

The ten day silent retreat is the hardest and most satisfying work I have ever done. Once the silence begins, no distractions such as books, writing, music, singing, tobacco or even eye contact is allowed. The time is spent meditating, eating and sleeping. Focus. No escape.

Three main techniques are taught. The first, which we all practice for the first four days, is a tool employed to develop the skill of concentration. It is also an introduction to our own internal reality, and a gentle bridge to the next, main technique.

This practice is called Annapanna. We have to sit for ten hours a day, feeling the sensations of the moving breath on our noses or upper lips as we inhale, and then exhale. We are told to allow our breath to be as it wants, for this is not pranayama, a breathing exercise. Over the four days, level after level of concentration is attained which is reflected in the quality and depth of sensation I am able to discern.

The main technique, Vipassana, is taught on day four. It seems deceptively simple. We are taught to sit in silence, sweeping our awareness over our bodies from head to feet, and then from feet to head, making sure no part is left untouched. We learn to find some sort of sensation on every part of our bodies.

Each sensation is the expression of our life-force at any moment in time (the sensations constantly change). We learn by first-hand experience that the way we react to each sensation determines the karma we generate at that instant.

In the meditation centre we are taught that our lives are a succession of feeling-states or sensations that encapsulate our reality of the moment. Our usual way of experiencing life is to try to avoid what is unpleasant, and to try to cling on to, or recreate, what is pleasant. The only way to free ourselves from the constant karma generated every micro-second (clinging and aversion), is to experience our sensations with equanimity. In short, this means not good, not bad, just how it is. Acceptance, no judgement.

If one observes a sensation equanimously, at some time or another it will lose its energy, dissolve and change. A new sensation will then appear on that part of the body from a deeper level, and must be similarly observed before it, too, dissolves and changes. This must be done on all parts of the body, and on it goes! How strange is the usual human condition, always wanting what is not there, or denying what is there! Suffering.

Vipassana, the technique that the Buddha taught, teaches that the secret of a happy and fulfilled life is to accept what life gives us in its entirety, knowing that it will change, and then be loving and creative with what we have. Simple.

The third technique called Metta Pauna, or Loving Kindness, is taught on the last day. Having worked hard on the pathway towards liberation, and with excess energy to spare, it is wonderful to share what has been gained with the rest of humanity. It is a truly magnificent experience to be sitting in a room with perhaps two hundred people, having journeyed through the valley of the shadow of death for ten days together. On the morrow the meditation course will be complete, and we are full of gratitude at our great fortune to be given the technique that will eventually lead us to our enlightenment. We have travelled far along this pathway during the ten-day course and changes are already beginning to make themselves evident.

Contacting the subtle and light energies in our hearts, we generate a huge charge of gratitude and compassion and we are taught how to focus and beam it towards our goal. And then, as one group Being, we direct selfless love outwards to All Beings everywhere. Glowing. Golden. Good.

And so, on that hill overlooking the railway shunting yards I began the slow painful journey to find my self, and so it continues. My first ten-day course, in practice, was living torment and my inertia very nearly got the better of me. Nevertheless I decided to persevere and fairly soon I realised that I had found my path and will never lose it again. Since then I try to spend at least one month a year doing retreat in one of the meditation centres around the world, and I sit in meditation for at least one hour, every day of my life.

Another exciting way of operating which is utilised by the Vipassana group and rarely seen in the modern world is Dana, or the practise and use of donation. This means that there are no charges levied for a ten day (or longer) retreat. If, on completion of a course, a student would like to give a donation that would help towards another student attending a similar course, he or she can give whatever is appropriate, or what can be afforded. And it works. Many thousands of students have been helped on their way towards their spiritual realisation by this means, and so it continues. On the foundation of goodwill and dana, this organisation has grown over thirty years from a tiny house in Bombay to a large network of modern meditation centres in many countries of the world.

I am always alert for omens, or manifestations of Spirit, for I believe they are signs given to us humans for guidance and reassurance. On my first meditation course there was an extraordinary omen given to me while I was waiting to enrol outside the office building. It was a visitation by Death itself.

A group of about twenty or so of us were waiting on a small area of grass in the shade of a huge mango tree. We were lying, sitting, musing or talking quietly in small groups, waiting until checking-in time. I was very nervous, as I didn't know what to expect. Suddenly, a young German man was taken ill, and was helped to the medical centre. He didn't return, and he didn't sit the course.

After the course was over, we found out that he had been bitten by a snake and had died before a doctor could arrive. He had been sitting among us and was no further than ten yards away from me when he was bitten. Any of us could have been the victim: I wondered why he was chosen. Whatever the reason, I heeded the omen and gave thanks for a truly auspicious sign. Experienced in the 'normal', or 'human' way his death was a tragedy, but seen from a shamanic or magical perspective it was without doubt a great honour to have been at that place at that time. The presence of Death is always the herald of deep transformation.

Sitting on the grass before the course, I was in the process of dying. I was loosening my ties both to the world, and to my sanity. Yet, perversely, another seemingly sensible and vital young man studying theology was selected by Death. A life for a life. I couldn't help thinking that it should have been me to die that afternoon under the mango tree. In surviving, my life and sanity had been saved, and had been given an incredible boost. The workings of Spirit are strange.

I found myself in an exquisitely beautiful magical garden in the Rajasthani desert, once again acclimatising to the Spirit of India while sitting a ten day meditation retreat. I celebrated, and went about my practice with joy and sensitivity. As the days passed, more and more of my cares slipped away and I was able to make deeper contact with my ongoing inner journey. On the evening of the fifth day, I had a vary strange experience.

It is time for bed. I am brushing my teeth under the radiant night sky and the desert stars hang like jewels from black velvet. Suddenly I experience a surge of strange energy and the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It is Spirit, I experience an increasing sense of doom that is looming close. It is too late to act or find cover. A trap has been set, and sprung. Tangible danger lurks in the shadows and I can feel the presence of Death.

In my mind's eye I see someone a long way away, having hated me for a long time, suddenly setting loose the barb of a curse which is even now winging its way towards me. I feel that whatever it is contains poison, and I wonder if there is a snake somewhere in the darkness nearby. I don't have very much time, and I have no idea what to do. When in doubt, pray. I know that whatever it is, I have to face it. I stand there, filling myself with clear energy, and using the meditation technique to cleanse myself.

After a short while my fear dissolves, and all that is important is to give of my best. I stand tall, sparking with life-force, and dare it to me. It is very close now and in my mind's eye I see it as a fiery dart looking for me, hunting down its prey.

Suddenly it falls out of the sky with a crack, missing me by inches, and hits the ground hard. I hear a smashing sound and in my mind's eye, see it breaking into pieces by my feet. The danger is over, and I start to relax. Finishing my ablutions, I collapse on my bed and sleep like a baby.

I wake at the usual time, four o'clock, and go outside to take my cold shower. I pass the place I was standing the night before, and see movement in the dewy grass. On the ground, broken into four or five pieces, is a large yellow scorpion. It is recently dead and covered with ants: I know that by the evening it will have become a dried out, hollow shell. I have faced the past, my death, and, for the moment, have won. A new sense of freedom and self-esteem thrills my being. With my head held high, I walk towards the meditation hall.

I had arranged to meet two old friends from Glastonbury, John and Melanie, a month after my arrival in India. They had planned a trading trip, for Melanie owned an up-and-coming jewellery business and wanted to buy gemstones wholesale from the main centre in India, Jaipur. A few days after leaving the meditation centre, I met them at their hotel and caught up on the latest news. We arranged to travel together awhile. I was also interested in finding a good gemstone contact, and wanted to get an idea of the procedures involved in trading.

The entire Jaipur underworld seemed to know what we were intending, and we became the targets for a lot of psychic pressure. Everyone seemed to want to relieve us of our money. Finally, after a few bizarre and frightening experiences, we found our man. Rajendra was his name. His large extended family lived in a well-to-do neighbourhood and he soon treated us more as family than business associates.

His house was a fortress inside a labyrinth. To get to his place of business it was necessary to wind one's way up stairs, down stairs, roundabout, sometimes retracing one's steps along strange passageways until all sense of direction was lost. Once there, a treasure trove of all imaginable types of mineral in every stage of process was there to delight the eye. I found my equanimity slowly dissolving the longer I spent in this fantastic treasure trove.

Somewhere along the way, I convinced myself that I could do some gem trading in order to set up an operation to finance my future travelling. I knew my stones and the different grades of quality. If I could get a good price for them, there shouldn't be any problem. My money was on the line, and I thought that, if I was going to do it, I might as well do it properly. I invested pretty much all of my money in a wonderful selection of rubies, sapphires and emeralds in exquisite shapes and shades of colour. I decided to return to England, sell them, set up a 'trade route', and then carry on with my world tour.

We stayed in the Taj Mahal hotel, the best and most expensive in Jaipur, and lived like royalty. It was a unique experience for me yet I didn't like it. The amount of money I spent in a day would have supported me for ten days under normal circumstances. My friends wanted to live like this, however, and I felt it better if we all stayed together.

After we had completed our business, we travelled to one of the most sacred places in India: Pushka. At the village centre is a sacred lake filled with huge fish and surrounded by temples. Hot and sticky after a long and dusty bus ride, we made a beeline for the water.

John and Mel stand on the lakeside as I strip off and dive into the murky water. It is the most direct way of honouring and getting to know the spirit of the place. I break the surface of the water, spitting and spluttering, with a huge joyful grin on my face.

I swim out to the centre of the lake and float on my back under the scented sun. After a glorious, cooling rest I make my way closer to the bank, where priests servicing a temple are feeding prasad, or blessed food, to the fish. Hundreds of the monsters, some over five feet long, slither and writhe together, backs out of the water, sunshine bursting off their mirror scales.

I drift among them, not really knowing what to expect and have the extraordinary sensation of being massaged by countless muscular, smooth, serpentine beings in an orgy of sensation. Rubbing, sliding, butting, and pulsing, they cover every inch of my body. Sides, back, front and limbs are all rhythmically serviced: I am in ecstasy. After swallowing a couple of mouthfuls of extremely dubious water, discretion takes the better part of valour and I rejoin my friends on the lakeside. I give thanks for such a wonderful reception by the spirit of Pushka, and come back to earth. After drying myself quickly in the fierce afternoon sun, we walk off together in search of rooms for the duration of our stay.

We spent a week in that special place, walking, exploring and resting before the return journey to England. Before I left Pushka, I went for a walk down to the water's edge and meditated awhile. It was on the evening of the full moon, and the Queen of the Night reflected gold from the still surface of the water. I took one of the four smoky quartz crystals I had found in the Cairngorm mountains out of my pocket and held it. With a prayer of love and hope, I threw it along the silver-gold shimmering pathway that led across the sacred lake. As the ripples subsided, I gave thanks that something so small, so precious, and found at such expense, had found its home in such a magical spot on the planet. Crystal Bearer still lives!

I had already bought my return ticket in Jaipur, and almost before I knew what was happening, India, the land of my dreams, had dissolved and I was winging my way home through the stratosphere.

Back in England, I tried to sell the gemstones. Certainty changed to Optimism transformed itself to Patience slipped to Doubt tripped to Worry and dived to Despair. The quality of the stones was exceptional, yet I had made a basic mistake. Very few jewellers make their own products nowadays: they buy them in from large wholesalers. They in turn supply findings in standard sizes. Whenever a jeweller makes a ring or item of jewellry which includes gemstones, the stones he wants are of standard sizes. My stones were chosen for their beauty and uniqueness, and were consequently impossible to sell to most jewellers.

I felt broken, cheated, wasted. The energy that I had gathered and saved in order to travel the world had been squandered, thrown away, by plain stupidity. I had undertaken a year's hard labour, and won a battle of unbending intent in order to lose it without a whimper. How could I have done it? Why?

I sold off a few stones at about half the amount I paid for them, in order to generate some money on which to live, and was left with a collection of beautiful but useless crystals in my care. I returned to Glastonbury, shaken to the very core, too miserable to repair my broken will or pull myself together.

Late summer changed to autumn, and autumn to winter. A lot of my joy had gone and I lived as a recluse. Finally, Christmas time approached and, traditionally for bears and Ivans, this is the season to look for a cave and spend silent time with Nature. There was one marked on the map near Crystal Mountain in Wales, and I had decided to spend my Yule there. I wondered what I would find.

Just before Winter Solstice I hitched up the valley from Llandovery, past Rhandirmwyn and into the valley leading to Llynn Brianne. About three miles upstream, another smaller valley joins the main one. In the centre of this three-way Hecate's confluence a tall black pyramid-shaped hill stands, surrounded by water. A very striking landscape indeed: it was perfect for my needs. Snow partially covered the ground and it actually felt quite Christmassy.

I left the road and walked along a well-kept pathway, noting that I had just entered a nature sanctuary and that it was protected. The hill was covered by an oak wood, the black trees slightly stunted at that altitude giving them a strange, goblin sort of feel. I let myself be swallowed in the shadowy, protective gloom and it felt comforting. I felt that I was travelling further and further back through time, deeper and deeper into the hidden magical realms of Cymru. Finally, on the opposite side of the hill and hidden from the road, I started to search for the cave.

I soon found it, and was disappointed to see that the roof had collapsed. I had the certainty that I was in the right place, however, and continued my search for a suitable shelter. As the light faded and the trees grew quiet, I found what I was looking for. By a stretch of the river that foamed and roared over rapids, directly above a strange, huge waterworn boulder called Merlin's Rock, I found the spot that would be my home for the next few days. It was a small cave, an overhang, really, just big enough to sit out of the elements in front of a cheerful fire.

My sleeping space was a dry hole among car-sized boulders which teetered alarmingly on top of one another like a megalithic card-house, the entrance being only two feet high. My mattress was a thickly layered heap of dried leaves collected by the resident wind-whirlpool elemental over many years.

With a sigh of delight and a distinct raising of spirits, I moved in. Soon a hot, sweet smelling oak fire was radiating like a beacon into the cold night, and my cooking pot was bubbling cheerfully in anticipation of supper. And then, replete, I felt the excitement of a new adventure stirring in my veins as the scintillating stars reached down to me through the black leafless twisted trees. I tested out my new sleeping quarters and they was not found lacking. The earth enveloped me, and I slept the sleep of the dead.

Merlin's Rock marks the throat chakra of the Earth Temple whose heart is at Rhandirmwyn. At this special healing place I made my base and explored the dreamscape. I flew like a raven, swam like a salmon and ran like a deer through the black forests of the Otherworld. Unfettered and free, I was No-one. None. Nun. With no past and no future, I could come and go as I pleased. I served none save the life-force which pulsed through my being and directed my actions. I danced, climbed trees, ranted and raved, meditated, sang, screamed, lived. Fully. No inhibitions, innocent again. Thoughtless. Without thought. The animals ran with me, the birds sang with me, and the mountains rang with the birth-pangs of the Mother herself, imprinted such an incredibly long time ago. And there the Silence hovered, waiting, pregnant. Stillness: perchance, a time to dream.

And then it was time to stalk crystals. On Christmas Day as the sun was rising over the south-eastern ridge of the surrounding hills I packed my rucksack, and walked along the steaming, rushing river towards Crystal Mountain. I stopped in at the Royal Oak for a welcome pot of tea, and warmed myself up in front of the roaring fire. I nattered with the staff. They had recently moved to Rhandirmwyn and were about to renovate the pub. They were full of tales about the strange and eccentric habits of the people living thereabouts and their experiences so far in the mountains.

Fortified against the cold and ready for anything, I climbed the mountain and was soon at the hole in the gully I had discovered while travelling with Roberta. I realised with surprise that I was deathly afraid, and explored my fear. I was about to leave the world as I knew it, with the earth, the trees, rivers and sky that I usually take for granted. Above ground, the rules of life are ruthless but known: there is a certain security about walking the surface of the world. Underground, on the other hand, is the place of darkness, of hell, the unknown or the 'nether regions'. Here there are imprinted feelings of evil, of worms, of snakes, of scorpions, of shadows, of ghosts, demons and unconsciousness.

These imprints were well activated in my psyche that morning! I was aware that I was going to descend alone, and there would be nobody to help if anything went wrong. I decided that there were few nastier deaths than being buried alive maybe for days with no hope of rescue, incapacitated and unable to make it to safety. My imagination came up with all those really excruciating ways I could die in unutterable horror and agony over an extended period of time and still didn't exhaust the possibilities! By this time I was shaking in my boots and was experiencing pure terror.

Sometimes I really wonder about me.... I do the most outrageous things in my everyday life and could be described as brave, or daring, yet I am so timid and fearful at the same time! Maybe truly courageous people don't need to place themselves in dangerous situations, as they are already complete and whole. Hum.

Still, my mind meanderings served a purpose. By the time I had completed, I could leave my fears, my mental and emotional baggage, and all those possessions that I didn't really need at the entrance of the hole. The luxury of travelling light! The likelihood of anyone passing by was pretty remote, and I perversely wondered if I would ever emerge and reclaim them again. When I was ready, I took a deep breath and wriggled head first through the narrow aperture and landed with a thump on the floor of the mine shaft. I picked myself up and checked that my equipment was in order.

All O.K. I switched on my bicycle torch and peered into the darkness. Learning from the past, I had tied it onto my jacket sleeve with a rainbow shoelace. Light! A passageway, won from solid rock and glinting with quartz and water droplets, invited me into the mountain. It was a bit flooded in places although only a few inches deep, and turned a corner some way ahead.

I proceeded with caution. I moved slowly along the shaft, taking my time. Strange luminous shapes like snowflakes shone silver from the rock as I passed. They seemed to be some sort of metal, lead or silver, I guessed. The tunnel was tall enough for me to stand up for most of its length, but I always had to be on the alert for the few stretches of roof ready to give me a painful bump. Shadows and stealthy movement flickered around me as I walked. Cobwebs and strange insect-like shapes caught my attention out of the corner of my eyes, and were then gone.

Silence, darkness. The reflection of light off water and crystal, the crunch of small rocks underfoot. All around me there were incessant drips of water echoing with hollow detonations, and the sound of a waterfall rumbled in the distance. I became aware of the elemental and mythical beings who are reputed to live inside mountains deep below the surface of the earth. I could feel their eyes on me every step of the way. I remembered that time, not so long ago, when I was afraid of the dark. I gave thanks for the distance I had travelled since that low-energy time of my life. I suddenly realised that I was 'keeping an appointment' at a very powerful energy centre on the land. I felt that as long as I respected whatever I met along the way and didn't lose my centre due to fear, it would be allright. I was invited, just as much as I wanted to visit!

The realisation that I have an appointment somewhere has a special significance for me. I feel as if I have been given full permission by the universe to 'be' at the time and place designated. It takes matters completely out of the plane of personalities where doubts and fears are always lurking just under the surface. There is a certainty that all is as it should be, and I am automatically transported into the realms of Spirit where I feel empowered.

In that space I can totally trust and am fully alert to the internal whisperings that guide me on my task. I feel alive and in contact with the courage that is needed to fulfil my task. How I look forward to the day when this blessed state of consciousness is constant, and has become a steadfast ally during my normal, everyday life!

Happily I negotiate the flooded areas without getting wet. There always seems to be a ledge or a stepping stone on which to balance in the difficult stretches. The passageway starts to bend and I step carefully. The sound of rushing water becomes much louder, and I become aware of an increasing number of crystal signs in the glittering walls. I see quite a few quartz seams already plundered by treasure seekers, and many disturbed pockets of snapped-off crystals. My heart feels heavy at this wanton damage, yet I carry on still full of hope and purpose. I walk along another straight stretch, then around another bend.

As I edge around the corner into an open space, my heart stops. In front of me yawns a huge hole which encompasses the entire width of tunnel. It is a vertical shaft maybe fifteen feet in diameter, allowing no passage around its edge. I shine my torch down its throat and see how a stream, bursting through a crack just below the surface of the passageway, hurtles down the shaft to hit the bottom some unimaginable depth below. Riveted to the spot, I stare in despair at this insurmountable barrier to my continued progress into the mountain.

And then something changes gear. My eyes refocus and I see two wooden planks stretching over the chasm. They are the usual two-by-four type of building wood, shored up by some flaky, severely rusted supports. I am terrified, for I know without a shadow of a doubt that I have to cross them to the other side. I look at these two pathetically thin pieces of wood, feel my considerable bulk, and contemplate the immense, yawning space that starts directly below the pieces of wood. This is insane.

I am no rock climber or caver, and am terrified of heights. Despite that, I have been able in the past to accomplish so-called impossible tasks when driven by what I call Spirit. In this state there is no possibility of failure, for I am under guidance, and to refuse to do what I feel to do is tantamount to denying Spirit and everything I have been working towards. There is no problem in being afraid, only in not doing what I know is a task set for me by Spirit.

So, heart in mouth, I get down on my hands and knees and, with my shoulder bag swinging wildly against my chest, start to crawl. One leg rests on each of the parallel wooden bars. They bend menacingly. Gently, slowly. Senses alert for the slightest indication of danger. I know that, if any sign is given, it will be too late to do anything but I still play the game. I shine the light downwards and see no bottom or end to the glittering crystal tube. Oh Shit!

Half way across. If something is going to give, it will be now. Suddenly I jump as a loud hollow sound assaults my ears. It echoes, dwindling in volume, and fades into the distance. It is my poor flute, fallen from my shoulder bag and now destined to remain silent until the end of time.

It feels as if I'm in a dream, and I look at the scene from above as Ivan does outrageous things below me. If I slip and fall into the abyss, I'm sure that I will watch myself with scientific interest, pay my last respects, and continue my crystal journey as if nothing had happened! I wonder if my friends would be able to tell the difference.

Hey! Don't get distracted! I slide my body slowly, inexorably onwards and I feel that the worst is over. Somewhere, wood changes into rock and gooey clay yet I still crawl slowly forward until I'm at a respectful distance from the edge. Shaking, disbelieving, I get to my feet and laugh nervously, triumphantly. I get pictures of a magical, mystical 'Raiders of the Lost Ark' hero braving magical tests and horribly dangerous situations in order to save the planet by searching for.....what? To bring sacred treasure from the darkness of the Underworld into the light of day, I suppose. But where is my adoring, big-busted heroine, then? Maybe she's down here somewhere, or maybe I've just been given the wrong script.....

I can see from the clay underfoot that no-one has crossed the abyss in a long time. On the other side there were footprints and lots of bashed-about rock, but here there is a purity, an untouched and uninvaded feeling that is sweet, pleasant and just a little frightening. What if I don't do it right? I dismiss the thought and wonder how far it is possible to walk into the centre of the mountain. And what will I find? I shine my torch ahead, alert for any more holes in the floor, and advance carefully.

A few yards along the tunnel, I can feel the vibration of a large volume of water rushing below my feet in the solid rock, presumably the stream that is emptying itself into the vertical shaft behind me. Where the floor meets the wall, there is a crack maybe a foot wide in places and the torrent can plainly be seen. Making a conscious decision to proceed, I hurry along with my heart in my mouth and only slow down when I am well past.

I carry on and come to a minor cave-in. I scramble over the rubble, walk another thirty yards, and find a definitive blockage. There is no way I am going to mess with it: it seems ready to collapse at any disturbance. I estimate that I am approximately two hundred yards inside the mountain.

Having made my preliminary investigation of the shaft, I now retrace my steps. I have gone as far as I can go. I have been aware of many crystal indications in the passageway since crossing the abyss, and now I start to follow the spoor. It is strong and I become very excited. I move carefully and make no loud noises in order to reduce the chance of disturbing any loose rocks and being buried alive: I consider this fate a serious possibility. Musing on this cheerful fact, I stop at a large cavity in the wall to my left and illuminate it with the torch. It is a crystal cave maybe four feet in diameter, and filled with some of the largest crystals I have ever seen.

The Mother Lode.