places on the St Michael & Mary Line

There are a large number of sacred places on the St Michael and Mary line. I shall list the main ones below. We are going to examine one of the most important ley lines in Britain. This ley line runs parallel to the English channel which was once a river valley a long time ago when Britain, Europe were joined but sank below the waves. Our main Hypothesis is that ley lines are power conduits through the Earth’s crust that help to raise the land out of the ocean using a mechanism involving sunlight, solar wind and the Earth’s internal magnetic and electric fields. This unknown complex mechanism is certainly important for our survival and welfare, which is why we need scientific data collection and more realistic modelling based on the truth.

• Carn Les Boel
• Boscawen-Un Stone Circle
• St Michaels Mount
• The Hurlers Stone Circles
• St Michael’s Brentor
• Creech St Michael
• Burrow Mump, St Michael
• Glastonbury Tor, St Michael
• Bower Hill
• Oliver’s Hill Castle
• Avebury Stone Circles
• Ogbourne St George
• Ivinghoe Mound
• Royston Cave
• Bury St Edmonds Abbey
• Bungay Castle
• Hopton on Sea , St Margarets/

My friend and I were tired after a long hard walk up Glastonbury Tor and so we decided to rest in the Chalice Well gardens. As we wandered through the gardens we saw several relaxed and appropriately serene groups of hikers but became aware of a ghostly white figure scuttling about around the edges of the garden. He was dressed from head to toe in a brilliant white gown, complete with a hood pulled over his head. He made us uneasy.

We got to the Chalice Well and had a penguin chocolate bar each and then disaster. My friend’s plastic “penguin” wrapper fell into the well and lay on the surface of the water going round and round. We were mortified as we had desecrated this sacred site with a piece of plastic refuse. So we set about trying to retrieve it. I tried to fish it out with my walking stick while my friend held onto my belt so I would not fall into the well. We failed several times and fell about laughing when we finally removed the despicable object.

As we got off the ground, we noticed that we were surrounded by two solemn groups of men in white hooded robes one group in front of us and one group behind us . Their hands were held together in the manner of prayer that you see in medieval statues. Then from the side came a small procession two robed men and one women who was decked out with an ornately decorated purple sash as well as her alb and a big pendant.

She stood in front of us and made a silent prayer for a short while before taking out a plastic bottle and filling it from the well. At this point we were so curious that we asked her who she was and who all the men in the white robes were. She was an Archbishop from Ireland on pilgrimage from the Order of St Bernadette of Lourdes and her pendant was the cross of St Bernadette.

GLASTONBURY TOR

I got home from church, looked at my watch and noticed the date 2/3/3 and realised the next day was a special day for Druids. There must be a party at Glastonbury I thought. I wanted to travel there but I was too tired so I set my alarm for midnight and went to sleep. When I woke up I looked outside and the sky was crystal clear and perfect for a night of star gazing at the Tor. So got in my car and started the race to get there by 3:00AM of 3/3/3.

When I was ten miles away the fog came down. At first it was white and transparent but when I got to Glastonbury it was thick and yellow greenish. I got on the roundabout to take the turn for the tor and got hopelessly lost as I could not see the exit road. So I drove around the outside of the roundabout and counted the exits until I had the right one. I went down the road slowly driving down the middle of the road and worrying that I would land in a ditch. All of a sudden a gate loomed out of the fog in front of me and I slammed to an emergency stop with my car just four inches from the gate. Right in the middle of my view illuminated by the headlights was a small brass sign with an arrow that said “To The Tor”.

I followed the sign going very slowly and saw a disabled parking sign painted on the road and so I parked there and got out and switched on my torch. It was icy cold and so I put on another layer. Next to the car was a gate and a footpath leading to the Tor but all I could see was yellow green fog and about three feet of footpath in front of me. The ground rose and fell but it was only by feeling the unevenness of the ground with my feet that I could tell. After a monotonous walk which appeared to go nowhere I suddenly found myself on top of the Tor plateau. The icy wind was howling at forty knots and when I stared up the tower of the Tor I could see black clouds shooting by at a fearsome pace. I was all alone and there was no Druid Party. I could not believe that they had not turned up. My only company at the Tor were two owls and a number of doves that fluttered about from time to time at the top of the ruined church tower. It was very much like the scene at Flak Tower 22 in the Japanese / Polish film “Avalon” in terms of visuals and acoustic tone. (Well Worth Watching?)

There was nothing to do and so I decided to go out of the shelter of the tower and walk to the round viewpoint marker and say a prayer. I staggered against the blast of the wind which must have had gusts of sixty knots at least and knelt by the viewpoint. I tried to compose an appropriate prayer but the wind was freezing me and buffeting me all the time and in the end I just said something simple. I realised that I had unwittingly just performed a version of the famed Druid initiation ceremony, where they had to compose poetry while lying in a bath of icy water, but not very well.

Dawn approached but inside the howling icy banshee of swirling mist it was difficult to tell. I was disappointed by the nights non event and decided to return to my car. The previous night in the dark I had memorised where I came up onto the plateau and so I just went down the same path to retrace my footsteps in the same cold grey mist on my way down. As I went down the hill the mist lightened and thinned and by the time I reached the bottom the sun was shining, the birds were singing, the butterflies were flitting from flower to flower in the hot sunshine but I was in the wrong place my car was nowhere to be seen. There was not a breath of wind. I looked up at the tor and there just appeared to be a light mist at the top of the tower. So I wearily decided to climb back to the top of the ridge and go back down the other side of the hill.

As I climbed the hill when I was about a third of the way up I was surprised to find that I was in a light mist. As I climbed higher the mist became thicker and colder and to my surprise when I got to the top, I was inside a dark grey blackish mist with gale force icy cold winds and the Sun was nowhere to be seen. I thought that the weather must have suddenly changed.

So I chose the spot on the other-side of the hill where I thought I should take the path down and set off down the path in the swirling dark grey mist. I kept going down the hill until I found I was in a beautiful sunny meadow yet again. The Sun was shining, the birds were singing and butterflies were flitting from flower to flower. “That’s Impossible!”, I thought. How could I be here? How could the weather change from windy, dark and icy to sunny, hot and still. It didn’t make sense. I glanced at the Tor and it was covered with just a feint haze. I was in the wrong place yet again. The quickest way to my car was over the Tor and I set off back up the path I had just come down.

To my increased amazement when I was a third of the way up the hill the mist started to reappear and the higher I climbed the thicker, darker and colder the mist became. When I reached the top I was back in the howling freezing gale again. “This is not possible” I said out loud and sat down with my back to the tower.

A little while later another hiker appeared on the top of the Tor and I noticed the mist thinned and the wind became calmer. A few minutes later a small group appeared on the top and the mist dispelled quite rapidly. I looked down and saw my car and then quickly went down the hill and drove off.

I have no current rational explanation of what happened to me but in Cornwall they would say I was “Piskie led”. I climbed the hill 3 times on 3/3/3 but not by choice.

This type of situation needs detailed systematic investigation: Is it extreme localised weather causing loss of sense of direction or a trip to Avalon (The Otherworld, Emain Ablach, Annwfyn )?