The Path of the Pyramids: Keeping a Promise to a Dragon and a Stone Part 2 #VThikes #dragonlines #pyramidstones #sacredsites

A little pyramidal cave in the rocks

There were at least as many pyramids as there were hearts along the journey that led us to one particular stone pyramid at the crown of the dragon. Too many to count, and probably a lot that were missed by our eyes. It seemed, though, like the hearts, more than a coincidence… Pyramids carved into the faces of stones, stones opening to their portals such as the one above, and rocks that had somehow fallen from Earth’s openings into perfect pyramidal shapes.

A “portal” pyramid in the boulders

Guides continued to appear as we ascended the mountain. Soon after the chipmunk, a call rang through the canopy above. “It sounds like an eagle,” Sophia remarked, “I was told an eagle would be here today.”

We did not see the eagle, but days before I had seen an eagle twice in my travels. Three times in total this summer.

Followed by the eagle, was a yellow butterfly spotted by Deb. It was becoming a little uncanny. Not only were these common guides in my personal life, the eagle and butterfly are two of the totems in my Warriors of Light series. And it would get stranger from there…

This beautiful wolf-like dog appeared at an uncanny moment for us. His name was Ari, the eagle-boy in my book series, yet he resembled Lupe, the wolf-boy.

Worlds started to collapse as the mountain watched us walk its body. So many watchers, I would later remark that I was grateful I did not take this journey alone.

So many guardians in the trees

After that rather shocking encounter with the rock face that looked like the head of a galactic being, we were constantly aware of being observed. Ents appeared in the taller trees and trolls below them. Some seemed happier than others about our presence and it was clear we were walking in a land that did not really belong to humans.

Dragon wing?

A land, we would feel every-increasingly, that was guarded with a purpose. And, was alive with forces that, well, seemed other-worldly. Unlike in many of the places I have visited in England, where the magic of the land was enhanced by an ancient sophisticated society that moved and placed stones with deliberation, here mighty stones formed uncanny alignments by the forces of Earth.

We couldn’t help but feel the body of the dragon as we neared the summit

Yet there were so many similarities. The feeling of dimensions collapsing and realms mixing. The feeling of forces dormant and waiting to be reawakened…it was more than obvious a dragon lines ran through this land, and the three of us could not help feeling and seeing that the stars also had a special alignment with this serpent mountain.

Although this may not be the best depiction, there are curious carvings in the rocks of this mountain that made each of us think of the stars.

And, even though we had not chosen to walk the path of the water lines, the feeling of the element was present. It was held in the body of the stones with whale beings seemingly embedded into the body of the dragon. Fire and water. Alchemy. I couldn’t help but think of how the magical hexagram was here. And I could only hope that the lines were still alive here, even though there were obvious disruptions. Most notably, the towers of metal we could not bring ourselves to linger near for too long (much less photograph) that several feet (thankfully) away from the crown.

One of the whale stones we encountered

Memory and intuition brought us to the crown even though we were walking an unfamiliar path to get there. The increasing pulse, pulling us to our destination to place our offerings and heed the land’s calling, whatever it may be. And if it were not for the wren, we may never have seen the eye…

To be continued…

The call of a dragon and the pyramid stone(s) #sacredmountains #vthikes #pyramidstones #sacredsites #dragonlines

She stands alone in the vast echoing darkness, as she does each day. Her hair ripples a night without stars from her crown to her waist. “Ammon Ra!” She calls through the portal. “Ammon Ra!” She raises her scepter to the apex, heralding the opening. “Ammon Ra!” Darkness slips away to the effortless lift. Stones becoming an illusion to weight. Her body, the channel for the sun, her voice, the gateway.  “Ammon Ra!” Dimension collapses into waves of light, filling the great pyramid it searches for the veins. “Ammon Ra!” The scepter meets the floor and gold spills into the ground in a vast web without endings. Below the feet of the priestess, Earth pulses with energy. Tomorrow she will return. And the day after that…


It’s a hot morning in mid-July and I am climbing a mountain that has called to me through the channel opened to the higher self. I am not thinking of Egypt or a long ago time that has rippled back to this one. Instead, I am trying not to think, allowing myself to surrender to whatever will be. It is hot. Airless. Just as it was a year before when I climbed another mountain with my husband on our anniversary because it called me from a place beyond logic.


Bring the crystal you were given at America’s Stonehenge

Instead I have brought a packet of tobacco leaves, as I did when I climbed to see Chocorua. It is not yet time to bring the crystal, now I know why my daughter dug the wand of selenite out of a sandlot six years before I would find myself inside a vision of  life that is woven into this one.

It’s no big deal. There are others who call in the opening, collapsing dimension in the path to the stars.

Admittedly, despite the attempts to expect nothing, I am looking for signs along the path. At Chocorua I had several: the ghostly figures of Native Americans watching us walk beside the sacred stream, the white feather fallen upon the path, two snakes, the crow greeting our arrival and the pileated woodpecker, my “feathered seer” calling through the silence. And, finally, the face of the chief in the clouds just before we turned for our descent, not having quite reached the peak of our destination.

Today there are no ravens promising magic, only a woman and her dog who quickly disappear ahead of us and out of sight. I have a feeling it will be a quiet walk and I will be watched more than I will see. This is often how it happens, I am learning. A trust needs to be earned, and I am heedful of my steps and mindful of noticing where I feel the nudge to drop a few leaves of tobacco for the spirits of the mountain.


But the energy is there. I can see the serpents in the stones we pass by and I can feel the lines of water, even though it is nearly dried up.


We find the spring empty of people and I am grateful for the chance to linger beside the stones (who watch us closely) and cool my skin in the cold, clear liquid.


It is a place I’d like to linger longer. Light dances with water here, creating alchemy with color on the stones. The veins feel alive with the pulse of the dragon and the stones eroded in a way that does not feel accidental.


But we have a long way yet to go, and I am determined to reach the peak, unlike last year. I don’t know what to expect, but I am expecting something. Our walk, though, is quiet and intense in its ascent. The path we have chosen gives us few breaks from the vertical climb and the heat is strong today.



Before we leave the waterfall, I notice the metal on the rock. The chiseled words feel, well, perfect.

IMG_1730I take a final look that the stones and the light’s dance on the water. Grateful that it will be there on our return.


Ahead of us is more heat and the rigors of our climb. But we will not rest in one spot for too long. The stones watch us while we walk, and I leave my trail of tobacco leaves hoping it is enough.


I still don’t feel home here the way I do in England, walking the newer lands of America, but I am learning to trust that the pulse that feels like magic beats here just as strongly. Even if it’s not quite as close to the surface. I have noticed during my walks through the mountains and forest paths of New England, that the land here is cautious of my footsteps, as it should be. Our ancestors here have left a troubled path, and my veins do not course with native blood. I am often acutely aware that I am an intruder who needs to earn trust.


Yet, the stones show me their faces and forms when I look close enough, and sometimes a bit of unexpected magic is revealed.

Like the cube of quartz we find as though it has been tossed to be seen, just inches from our feet in the bed of dried leaves. It feels like a gift to be left, but noticed. Not photographed. A reminder of what I will bring with me next time.


Instead I photograph the tiny orange mushrooms that look like a trail of the fey, and we continue our climb to the strange little hut that I cannot imagine falling asleep inside.


“You’d need to bring a pad with your sleeping bag,” I tell my husband as I press my fingers into the unforgiving metal mesh. I’d rather not think of what else might venture inside the opening in the darkness of night.

Did I mention my bladder has felt the need for release before we began our decent? A minor inconvenience that my mind returns to each time I take a drink to quench my thirst. For some reason I can’t bring myself to relieve myself behind a stone. There’s no one around.


Just the stones of a former habitation as we get closer to the top.


And lots of large, curious looking boulders that call for a better look upon our descent. But we are nearly there, the signs promise us our feet will soon reach the peak.


I am expecting, even though I have tried not to expect, a vast rocky face with clear vistas, but instead we need to climb once more. This time it is stairs up to a guarded platform. Here, finally, we meet more visitors and it feels crowded on top of this large mountain.


But I am not wholly disappointed. Up here I can see the peaks beyond and take in the contours of the land from a point not seen from the ground. And, I can see the ripples on the back of the dragon.


But we are hiking in the midst of a pandemic, and others are waiting for the view, so we don’t stay too long atop the constructed tower. Besides, I still have to pee, it’s lunchtime, and the stones below are calling.


Although there is a great deal of the mountain remaining for me to discover at perhaps another time, this place beckons to me. And soon I have an idea why.


It’s not just the stones piled into caves that will have to wait for my eyes to peer inside, it’s the stone in the middle, curiously shaped like a pyramid. In the distance, far beyond sight, a bird calls through the forest. It is a pileated woodpecker. My “feathered seer.”


To be continued, someday…


The Womb before the Chamber: Part 3 of my visit to America’s Stonehenge #americasstonehenge #ancientsites #sacredsites #traveladventures #dragonlines #dragonstones #mysteryhill

Please click on the highlighted text to read Part 1 & Part 2

It was hot last Wednesday, and humid, with temperatures hovering around 90 degrees Fahrenheit. My body does not like this type of weather, and I was quite uncomfortable at times walking the Mystery Hill, especially once we reached the top and shade was hard to come by. As I mentioned in my second post, we took the marked trail clockwise up the hill. During our ascent I noticed the curious walls of stone that always seemed to end with larger rocks bearing striking resemblances to the heads of serpents or dragons. Walls that curved inwards and outwards. Although the heat could have been a factor, there was a distinct feeling of being tested throughout my time here. As though my cells were being called to shed and be reborn.

These types of places tend to test, calling their visitors to pull the inner out to be processed. I felt this even more acutely later on as I gazed upon the curious rocks below that were found in one of the stone walls. One face seemed to pull me to the right, while a smaller rock on its back pulled to the left. It made me think of the circle around the hill, and how I had wanted to walk counter-clockwise…

This stonewall, leading to the Astronomical Trail, contained an interesting hybrid rock, the bottom “being” seemed to pull in one direction, while the top, in the other.

A small south-facing stone chamber sits at the area below the site that is now referred to as the Pattee Area of America’s Stonehenge. Above its earthen roof, lilacs, presumably planted by the Pattees, bloom in May. It’s difficult to know what the original structure looked like, as it has been rebuilt over the years, or what it was used for. It is one of several cave-like enclosures of various sizes on the hill. Tucked into the body of Earth, it has the feel of a place where one could hibernate to await the rebirth of spring.

The South-facing Chamber. The photo was taken during my April 2014 visit.

A well-like structure sits nearby, just to the upper right of the chamber. Its opening is covered in a wire mesh, and for a few feet in depth the unaided eyes can see a descending cylinder formed by stones. To the right of the south-facing chamber, the remnants of a stone wall that aligns with the true north-south axis leads up the hill a short way toward the central site.

A stone wall on the true north-south axis leads up the hill. You’ll note the more modern fencing cutting through it.

To the left of the well there is an area referred to as “The Pulpit,” which is speculated to have been used in more modern times as a loading dock for quarrying stones. Nearby, and further to the left, a large stone slab with a 90-degree hole chiseled through it can be found. A remarkable feat even by modern standards.  The ground turns to stone ledge here, and there are many areas marked with white paint, speculated to be chiseled channels for tool sharpening and to direct the flow of water (or perhaps other liquids…)

A passage for water has a distinct vulva-like shape as noted by Deb. It exists nearby the Mensal Stone and the V-Hut

I am not altogether surprised I did not take many photos of this particular area of the site. By the time I reached the Mensal Stone, en route to the V-Stone, my inner sight had begun to pass me through time.

The “Mensal” stone is a 6-8 ton slab tucked into rocks.

I was present, but not wholly present, as the three of us approached the womb and joined hands.

The “V Hut.” There is no explanation in the brochure for this structure, which I refer to as “The Womb”…

I can recall Deb remarking about angles and wondering why the lines needed to be drawn straight into a point when we arrived at this mysterious structure…the dropping of items we had brought beside our feet…and my voice rambling words to describe a landscape that only partially remained around us…

I saw serpents in the living stone surrounding the hillside, drawing the fire inward and outward, swirling the waters within. I could feel it building inside of me, cooling the water in an alchemical dance of convergence at the womb where one enters to be reborn. I could feel the elements surging through the rock upon which I stood, rising through the soles of my feet and out through my pores which had opened to receive. Every hair on my body was standing on end. “Look,” I told Deb and Sophia, as I stretched out my arms.


We knew, as we stood before this distinctly feminine structure,  we had found the place where we were meant to gather. Three women stopping to be present with the land while the sun burned down upon us as we formed a trinity of hands. A triangle of energy like the one before us, drawing the sacred feminine to meet the dragon’s fire as it entered the V…

To be continued…