QUOTE : In that vanishing point, neither of us speaks. Language is crushed. We are anyway too busily engaged building structures within ourselves that might house our spirits, for the pressure here is immense, a weight of rock and time bearing down upon us from every direction with an intensity I have never experienced before, turning us fast to stone. It is a fascinating and terrible place, and not one that can be borne for long. We return to the edge of the ruckle, knowing we must pass back through it – and there lies the end of our thread, our white clue. Without it we could hardly retrace our route through the boulder labyrinth. It would be like memorizing a fifty-word tongue-twister on the way down and then reciting it in reverse on the way back up. I lie down to lead, I follow the thread, and each tiny room in the ruckle opens onto the next as it should, in turn, in order. I pass through the last of the gaps, and as I lift myself into the entry shaft I