(yr Wyddfa Fawr - the Great Tomb)
Trek: Tuesday 14 July 1998



by Iain J. Lewis

"While the water slowly boiled, I simply lay listening to the totally spellbinding, undulating, empathetic hum of a Bumble Bee somewhere outside of my tent... as it moved from side to side, front to back, in perfect quadraphonic placement. Me and the Bee were like one. No wonder the Shaman emulated this insect... its resonant buzz cuts through to the essence. Mr Bee gave me perhaps the most penetrating impression of life other than my own that I have ever apperceived."

ook a strong dose of Psilocybin mushrooms (approximately 65) and headed off, with S, along the Watkin Path, past the now redundant slate track (which we were initially unsure as to the real purpose of) and around the corner into the unknown. Large rocks had, conveniently, been laid down for tourists and walkers to step upon making the first part of the ascent pretty much like walking up the garden path. It was a sunny, slightly cloudy day.

Apart from anticipation, the first thing I observed about myself was an attentive 'scanning' of my body for physiological changes by comparison to my 'usual' state. This scanning, as it were, happens automatically only after my ingestion of other such vegetation, or during times of serious illness. I observed the usual sensations of stomach heaviness and indigestion even though I had eaten nothing else, and I also observed feelings of doubt as to whether I had done the right thing.

Gradually my vision altered. This became apparent as the surfaces of nearby rocks began to appear all the more richer and lustrous in hue and colour, as though my eyes had a saturation slider similar to that of the hue and saturation controls of the fabulous image editing software Photoshop, and that the slider was, thanks to some inherent properties of psilocybin, very subtly on the increase. The ability to detect 'edges' of objects and of patterns is also greatly enhanced by psilocybin - even with fairly small doses - and this became apparent as I found myself playing at stepping stones by treading only on the larger rocks along the path. This was quite reminiscent of childhood holidays to Cornwall, and of walks along pebbled beaches at Southend, Essex. I was 'seeing as a child, but being as an adult'.

"When the edge of a thing or pattern becomes more defined, then the reality of that thing or pattern also becomes more defined: The reality of the environment cried out to my senses."

Quite `overwhelming` at times...

Due to the subtle physiological and psychological changes that were underway within me, again by comparison to previous states, I admitted to myself that a different, yet familiar consciousness 'above and beyond' the normal 'reduced awareness' (a phrase befittingly coined by Aldous Huxley) was very much for real - albeit temporary. According to Ouspensky...

I was more aware of myself in many ways, but not as continuously as I had assumed beforetimes. This heightened awareness did come and go (with fluctuations - or pulses/waves - as I was to learn later), and I did at one point of the trip catch myself quite identified while laying Cocteau-Twinesque coloured stones into a simple row for artistic expression. Looking back at this I can say that I was quite wrong to imagine that everyone would see in these stones the same as I had seen in them - and be amazed by the phenomenon of colour.

We came across a rock with a stone commemorative of a prominent hominid Minister for Parliament called Mr. Gladstone, and S, who was in a bounding mood, climbed to the top of it and began to talk about his plans for a video all about Natural Intelligence within the Gaian context. I tried to listen to him but, due to an inability to concentrate, and a strain on my neck to look up that steeply, was more given over to studying the image of his silhouette against the sky.

He asked me if I agreed that the mushrooms made for more awareness. S seemed to be very much more familiar and comfortable with the mushroom experience than I obviously was. It is definitely easier for me to be emotional - as opposed to intellectual - while on a trip. As we walked further he said that this was the first real chance he had to observe the features of my Saturnine face.

There were several run-down and completely abandoned buildings constructed from layers of slate, with no remaining roofs, now turned over to Great Nature for use as giant plant pots and living works of art. It is interesting to note that should Mankind ever completely screw up, to the point of extinction, Great Nature will make very good use of all its past achievements for said plant pots. These ruins were astonishingly beautiful and, set amidst the backdrop of glowing green mountain ranges, gave the impression of a Holy place. Legend holds that King Arthur himself slept below Mnt. Snowdon in a cave which is yet to be discovered. This is somehow linked to the original Welsh name 'the Great Tomb'.

Living fractal geometry.

If I still had my camera I would have used up many rolls of film on the first building alone. All images here were taken on a return trip circa July 1999.

Further uphill was the heart of the slate mine. A huge mound of unused material was reverting back to Nature (or so it seemed) as she slowly hauled a moss tarpaulin to cover over this man-made mound.

The slate mine [reminiscent of Stonehenge from certain vantage points].

Another disused building, amazingly in keeping with the surroundings, seemed to be glowing with 'luminescence' due to the rays of sunlight and the visual effects of the mushrooms on my eyes. We decided to stop here in this 'magical' place while S smoked a cigarette. I could not bring myself to smoke, and even the mere thought disturbed me. He regretted it afterwards saying that it was out of habit, and not from need. As we climbed further up, S talked about how the human body handles pollution in as smart a way as does Gaia... I replied by saying "a pack of lies". I agreed with the fact that somehow Gaia can recycle pollution, but that Man seems to be poisoned by the self same pollutants.

We had cause to stop on many occasions while I caught my breath, but this time I felt physically bad. My heart was beating very fast due to the exertion required, and my mind was overwhelmed by everything. I thought to myself that if I were to close my eyes 'here and now' they might not open ever again: comatose. I was locked in a struggle to maintain my sense of reality - although my usual perception of reality seemed quite obviously *totally flawed*. In my conscious mind was the idea of energy transformation, especially when the warmth of the sun reached me, but I felt so confused and helpless in my state that nothing made any sense, and all of this was quite disturbing an experience to say the least.

Fear of the unknown is relative - such as when one looses a job, and is fearful for the future. There is help. But when it is reality which is lost, all of life constitutes the unknown, and there really is nowhere to seek refuge. I could not bear the thought of socialising with anyone while in such a psychologically transparent state, and so I took the decision to head back down to camp.

S expressed disappointment but, understandably, he carried on towards the summit alone. The summit of Mnt Snowdon beckoned...

ajor Synchronicity: this occured just as I set off back down the mountain. Quite a few people were heading along the thin rocky path towards me. One group in particular (a group of teenagers and one adult) had split into two parties. As I passed the first party I heard someone behind me shout "Mr Lewis - Mr Lewis" (my surname!!!), and I immediately looked around in confusion thinking that somebody, by one chance in a million, knew me... but it was directed toward the adult in the second party still below me on the path. As I walked further the synchronicity hit home hard. Was I being called back? Taunted by the summit from which I was retreating? Or was it just one chance in a million million? Whatever...

I made my way back to the familiar slate mine, and to where I decided to lie on the grass until the effects of the mushrooms had at least worn off a little. No chance. I attempted to eat a handful of salted peanuts (which I usually love) in order to settle my stomach, but was horrified to find the essence of dryness in my mouth - and so I spat them out like a spray gun...

A bearded man, who resembled the famous boss of Virgin Atlantic, stopped me to ask if I had just come from the top. Not wishing to disclose my situation to him I quickly assembled the excuse that it was 'too cloudy to see anything at the top', and so I was heading back down....

By now the mushrooms were just beginning to take full effect. The harsh glare of the sun reflecting off the luminous slate was dazzling enough to make me reach for my sunglasses. I looked back up toward the clouded top of the mountain several times wondering about S, and wondered whether I had done the right thing by returning, but S was no doubt well away. Then, to my great relief, while laying on the bright green living grass, with the sun shining through from beyond the purest of white clouds, surrounded by the utmost serenity and beauty, and those fractally geometric and symmetrical life-forms called ferns, still entertaining the idea of energy transformation on the scale of all Organic Life on Earth, I vomited all of the mushrooms in one hurl.....

Now I felt good. I smiled. The dried and blackened mushrooms had completely regained their original shape and colour whilst in my stomach, and now they each looked fresh enough to pick from the grass. 'Bizarre' I thought to myself. I dried my face and watched as a group of four denim clad bipeds passed nearby... 2 male / 2 female. So many impressions but I could not remember very much about this group? I can remember considering that they were suspicious of me; a strange 6'5" man dressed in army drills and shades laying alone on the Watkins Path drying his face and staring at a steaming clump of mushrooms.

More living fractal geometry.

Eventually I came across the first building - decorated with living fractal geometry - and, feeling a little better for my troubles, I decided to dwell here for a while in order to take a much closer look at it. One complete side of the building was covered with what looked like bullet holes, but I could not be sure if that was so... There was one particular fern, Maidenhair (Asplenium trichomanes) which I felt quite attracted to (perhaps even an empathy with), and I wanted to bring a specimen home with me (the following year I did) but could not bring myself to disturb it from its natural habitat while in this state of mind. It seems to live only on the side of walls and rock faces. Lordy knows how it gets up there. Apparently, it has a liking for lime-rich rocks - including the mortar of old walls. It's shape is so pronounced and distinguished, and as for it's colouring... what can I say? Very dayglo - especially while bathing in solar energy!

Certain plants have a different role to play in organic life compared to, say, your average prime producer such as lettuce or grass. Such plants do not readily enter into the ecological food chain, and must therefore be busy producing or mirroring or fixing something other than essential nutrients for a food web. They may, for instance, embody concepts of scale: the further the leaves are from the heart of the plant, the smaller an exact copy they become until, at the very tip itself, they almost cease to be at all - but still with absolute perfect resemblance to the larger whole! Maidenhair does just this - so much so that I could imagine this diminishing scale going on infinitely; if but I had a microscope... Due to the nature of fractals, I realise that they do go on infinitely - at least in a purely mathematical way. Maidenhair is, then, the embodyment of philosophical and mathematical concepts.

As TM hinted, the fact that we can take half a page of code, and with it generate a virtual pine tree -- or virtual fractal pine forest -- suggests that "right from the very beginning forests were preordained due to these very mathematics underlying all of existence."

It is, I realised... and so is everything around me; 'being what it is' in the only way it can... even Mr Lewis, with his shaky mindstuff; perhaps all of it governed by mathematics and mechanics. Science does not yet understand 'being', and neither does the scientist realise that he is part of what he is studying !!!

The third ruin near the Water Falls.

I can barely remember passing the waterfall? but I can remember seeing several hominid specimens dressed in Day-Glo red overalls on the other side - like giant red ants playing or working by the waters edge. To me they looked ridiculous. Again there must have been identification with these people, or something, in order to have almost missed the falls. I was in a very low state of external / internal awareness!? Almost unconscious while walking!? Could this be comparable to the 'complete blank' as mentioned by O?

On my second attempt I found the hiding place of our camp (which seemed remarkably familiar for only one night and a few hours of daylight - mostly rain), and I eagerly slipped into my tent, and again I lay dead for what seemed like an aeon; until I could remember how to move and compose myself for the awesome task of brewing tea. My tent smelled of plastic, and was quite unremarkable, yet it was a welcome relief from the bombardment of my senses outside.

"While the water slowly boiled, I simply lay listening to the totally spellbinding, undulating, empathetic hum of a Bumble Bee somewhere outside of my tent... as it moved from side to side, front to back, in perfect quadraphonic placement. Me and the Bee were like one. No wonder the Shaman emulated this insect... its resonant buzz cuts through to the essence. Mr Bee gave me perhaps the most penetrating impression of life other than my own ever aperceived."

The following mug of tea and cigarette were, by far, the best I have ever had: hand-rolled, brewed to perfection, smoked and sipped alike... In my current state they were divine. What is more I was able to fully appreciate their divinity while sitting on a grass covered ledge facing the awesome scenic view toward South-east: Plas Gwynant. But there was also the fractal world of the grasses, ferns, insects, and the earth beneath my body, which I examined in close-up detail while on all fours - like a baby. Pretty soon a feeling of total amazement washed over me. All of this tiny detail in just one square meter, and repeated as far as the eye can see, and as far as the mind can think, and even beyond: life is ultra-smart.

Orange coloured fossil fuel helicopters were going to and from the top of Snowdon. I wondered why?! Another mug of tea was in order, and so I set off to collect more of that colourless, odourless, dynamic, ever-flowing liquid which gushed down the mountain side by the megaton, and of which liquid comprises more than 90% of the total weight of my lanky out-of-shape body: Water - and it tasted like water too - that is to say that it did not taste of the chlorine additives that we have adapted to over the past few years, and no longer notice.

S was calling me from somewhere, although it sounded from everywhere at once. I scanned the mountain tops for his image, but couldn't see him. When I did eventually see the tiny outline of his figure set between to rock formations, I found myself waving both arms emotively - like a schoolboy seeing his chum. I did wonder if he was worried about me - this dastard friend. Fancy going off and leaving a buddy to have a transcendental attack on the stairway to heaven. I forgave him on sight, and I take it that he forgave me for being such a total Nancy Boy - unfit for the wilderness.

ensual deprivation !

I later read Terence McKenna advising against such daylight 'tripping' - with it's excess of sensual stimulation - exactly for this reason. It is all to easy to be overwhelmed by it all. Darkness - or as dim as possible - seems to be the ancient customary way of inner communion.

S told me about the café at the top of the mountain - and how out of place it was. I wondered how anyone would get a job in such a place - and how would they attend an interview? The thought of a midnight robbery crossed our minds, and to steal all the cups and saucers. No one would ever hear the alarms going off, and if they did it would take at least an hour to sprint to the top. We often used to think of perfect crimes such as this useless one.

What a day! So much to chew on that I may well choke if I swallow too soon.

CODA

People are a very strange species when for five days you have seen virtually nothing but sheep, grass, mountains and trees... and the occasional trekker. Although I missed interaction with my computer quite a lot whilst away, on seeing it again it seemed unnatural - but good! Also, my place of abode seemed unusually dirty and dull compared with the sparkling freshness of the wilds. Food for thought. Future psilocybinetic treks now beckon....

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