Return from Hell

My descent on rope into this canyon from the cliffs above was startling. Dropping down in fits and starts I noticed a severe change in my surroundings. The harsh glare of sunlight disappeared and plants grew thick and lush. A thick humidity hung in the air fogging my vision. Finally I landed, sinking into moss that felt like a wet sponge. Each uncomfortable step in this hidden jungle squeezed water out from under my feet, but I finally I stood before the entrance of this once grand structure; one time known as the eighth wonder of the world, now all but forgotten.

As I enter the temperature drops sharply and I pull my jacket closer. Near the opening someone has re-styled this fading path into the darkness. I cross the barrier into a frozen hell. Where the tunnel’s cold air meets the thick heat and humidity of the outdoors there is a near impenetrable fog. Continuing through the haze I come to the first gate.

Standing before me is a wall of monolithic proportions. The rough stone walls merge seamlessly into this concrete barrier. At the bottom there is a pipe, barely large enough to fit through. Removing my backpack, I push it in, following I crawl slowly through the iron pipe as cold water flows around and over me. Do I believe in God? Maybe not in the sunlight, but down here I prayed there was an opening on the other side of this pipe.

Finally I emerged in a stone tunnel larger than the one before. I traveled through this maze of paths bordered by pits of water. Strange underground springs sprayed icy water from the walls at surprisingly high pressures. Coming to yet another concrete barrier and crawling through a similar pipe I was now confronted with an underground lake whose depth could not be determined. Again removing my pack I set to inflating the small rubber raft I carried.

Passing under a final brick arch I saw my exit. Drifting out of the underground slowly on my boat I learned I had passed more than a mile through these strange tunnels 450 feet below the ground.