"I have just returned from a two weeks stay in Weed, one of the towns which is about as near as you can get to Mt. Shasta. The people in a small town are odd. I don't think you can crash them on a first entry. At least, I found this to be true, and I make friends very easily. I bided my time, and let them make the advances. Even after they took me in, I found most of them reluctant to talk about their 'mountain people'. Most of them apparently take little stock in the tales which are circulated. Some of them laugh, but I’m wondering if there might not be a few who know things they just dont want to talk about. Maybe they've had follow up experiences after divulging previous occurrences. Your guess is as good as mine on this score.

"I think I covered the town as well as anyone in my position could. It was a combination of practical judgment and vibration on my part. I left no stone unturned. I followed all leads and talked with others I felt led to talk to. Judge Bradley, a very old resident, knew nothing. Neither did the postmaster's mother, a Mrs. King. The most help I got was from a newspaper man, a Mr. Harder, who publishes the Weed "Log", and a clerk in the Log Cabin Hotel, an elderly gentleman who has lived in Weed for 27 years. His name is Bob Young.

"Harder was running the election at the time. He ran in on me on election morning, to relate an unusual experience which had just occurred. I have only his word for this, as I didn't see the creature involved. It seems that a sort of moron ambled into the place and said he just wanted to watch. Harder said he resembled a gorilla and was of a low order of intelligence. Harder was puzzled because he'd never seen this being before. In a town as small as this a newcomer stands out like a sore thumb. Even the men from neighboring farms are somewhat familiar, if not actually known. This gorilla-type creature simply stood behind one of the girls who was counting votes and stared at her back. She became quite agitated and it was with difficulty that Harder finally got rid of this being. I hiked every day, alone in the woods, and never came across anyone like this.

"Even though I had no experiences to speak of the first few days, I was convinced that there was something around the Mountain, because I never felt alone. But it wasn't the nicest type of feeling. I felt as though I was being watched. The second day there I stumbled accidentally on a beautiful meadow. It was so perfect I wouldn't have been surprised [13] to see fairies dance. I just lay face downwards to the earth and tried to relax, but I had to look around every so often. The stillness was unpleasant. It was too full of something unseen. You can walk all day long up there and not see a soul. And I constantly lost my way. I am a good hiker and I have a good sense of direction, but it seemed as though something were deliberately trying to confuse me. It's a very unpleasant feeling to realize that you are lost in a strange place. Each time this happened, I refused to become panicky and simply allowed myself to be led according to my lights.

"I think there may be peculiar forces in the ground, because I saw a dog act very strangely. I was walking at sundown, and passed a cottage with a large red dog in front of it. I've been raised in the country with dogs and I think I know their habits fairly well. Many times they roll over and over in the earth, seeming to enjoy the fragrance, etc., but this dog had all the appearance of a dead animal. His legs were straight up in the air, paws rigid and even his mouth was fixed in a stiff position. I watched him for some time, then started for the cottage door to tell the occupants they had a dead dog. Just to be sure, I spoke to the dog first. This seemed to rouse him from his trance. He slithered through the half open gate and came over to where I stood. I patted his head and started on my way, but he put a paw on my arm. He didn't seem to want me to go, and he didn't look like an ordinary dog at all. He watched me all the way down the road, with the strangest expression in his eyes. I only mention this incident to bring out the fact that I think there may be certain currents in the earth.


"I wouldn't lay too much stock in this next incident, but I'll give it to you anyway. I'm a very practical person, and I always tear everything apart in analyzing it. I eliminate every material factor, and what is left I consider the truth. At least I'm able to know which experiences are fancied and which are not.

"I was awakened from sleep, by a peculiar scale of notes which seemed to come from under the bed. At first I thought it might just be the pounding of my heart. You know how you sometimes har it in the pillow? But this was different. It sounded like a cross between the plucking of harp strings, and a very delicate anvil chorus. It sounded exactly like some sort of mechanism within the earth. I got it only once again some nights later, but much fainter. BUt there are three experiences which I know to be true; each happened when I least expected it.

"I had been there over a week and never walked at night. This particular evening I was very tired, but had the urge to go for a stroll. I took my flashlight and smokes, and sauntered down the highway towards the mountain. It was that peculiar half-light between day and night. There was only an egg shaped moon, and about three planets. As I neared a certain hill I happened to glance upward and saw a rocket-like affair heading toward a certain hill. It happened so quickly I wasn't able to digest it until afterwards. I've seen Halley's comet and I've seen shooting stars, and it was neither. The nearest resemblence, though not exactly, was to a torch which might have been hurled from a plane. I [14] thought, 'That's funny. Now who would want to set fire to the woods?' And then I realized that the mark would be missed anyhow, because this rocket affair disappeared over the hill. If it had gone down the swell, I'd have thought it landed on the other side, but it dissolved in mid-air. According to my scale of measurement, from where I was, this thing was visible for about three feet, appaering to come from the evening star, or whatever that first big planet was, going towards the moon which was nearer the hill, and then disappearing. I figure the disappearing doesn't mean it was no longer in flight. It just disappeared from my sight because there was no longer a visible propulsion. The head of this rocket was brighter than the tail, and the tail was composed of bright lines sch as a jet propelled machined might leave in its wake. The hill over which it disappeared is just east of Mt. Shasta. If this is what I think it was, I believe it kept going and landed right in the Mountain, much as a plane might fly into a hangar. Harder went on a geologists'expedition up the mountain. He says there are caves in the glacier big enough to throw Weed into! And I thought it very funny when I related this experience to Young. He looked at me very queerly and asked me on which side of the mountain this occurred. when I said the east side he smiled even more queerly. He said most everything occured on that side.

"But here's the payoff. I came home immediately and wrote the experience to my sister. Wrote till nearly midnight, sealed the letter and retired. I arose in order to adjust the blind and rested my hand on the bedstead for support. I got such an electric shock that when I pulled my hand away I saw the sparks and heard them. I went over the floor for any exposed wires and found none. Tried to repeat the occurrence, but no soap.


"And here's the piece de resistance. I'll remember it much longer than the rest. I get goose pimples even now when I relate it.

"A couple of days later, just before returning to San Francisco, Young was telling me about a voice he used to hear across the way from the hotel. It seems he used to walk about six o'clock every evening. This spot is called the Pilgrim's Rest, and is in direct line with the room I occupied. There's a clean sweep of the mountain here. I could see it from my window. He said it was the anguished cry of a woman. I determined to explore this very evening. Along about three thirty in the afternoon I became very drowsy and lay down for a nap. I dozed until five, and awakened. I lay with my eyes closed, in that relaxed state where you can't exactly collect your wits. suddenly I was aware of voices, women's voices. They seemed to be faintly yelling. In my half stupor I thought there were young people playing outside. Then I remembered there were no young people here. Now, one voice was predominant. It was a woman's voice. Rather thin and pathetic. It was more of an anguished call, than the type of scream accompanying a murder or such. It called, "Hel . . . Hel . . . help!" It was such an anguished cry for aid that I turned icy cold, and the minute I became taut it ceased. I was out of the bed like a shot out of a cannon. To be truthful I don't know whether the voice came from the ground under the bed, or across the way from the [15] mountain. I'm inclined to think it came from the mountain.

"But here's the difference between these last two experiences: the rocket incident was objective, the voice subjective. Anyone with me would have seen the flare. I'm not sure that anyone with me would have heard the voice. Young says the same; no one ever seemed to hear what he heard. Last of all, I'm curious to know if I was supposed to see this flare, or was it an accident?

"There you are, Mr. Palmer. As much as I can give you. I tried my darndest to climb that mountain, but no marked trails, and they simply wouldn't let me go alone. I’d make trouble for them if I got lost, freeze to death in the night, etc. To tell you the truth I'm glad I couldn't go. I'm not ashamed to be afraid of such things. I figure I didn’t do too badly for a newcomer. The geologists' expedition found nothing at all. They had University of California men with them and all the necessary equipment, tapped all over the mountain and explored thoroughly. I think this proves that only those who are ready for such experiences have them. It's not so much a case of being equipped materially, but being equipped psychically. Of course I'm in favor of an armed expedition to clean out the dero, but I dont think any but righteously advanced people can contact the good forces. In signing off, I'm here to tell you that you have a jewel in Shaver. What he doesn't know -- isn't worth knowing. Let those who want to laugh, laugh. I'll take vanilla."


In 1952 Emma stopped in Weed on her return from British Columbia, in company with her sister and brother-in-law. She continues:

“We had parked the car in a direct line with the hotel room I had occupied six years previously. I was not hungry so while the others went into the hotel for luncheon I remained in the car writing a letter. Suddenly smoke rose from the car floor. I thought this strange as I was not smoking a cigarette at the time. On looking down I discovered that a hole had been burned right through the car carpet! Naturally I immediately rubbed out the scorch and burn with my foot. The only visible physical cause would be the rather warm highnoon sun shining through a bottle of mineral water on the floor, but in view of such a possibility I had covered this jug with my sweater. Even with the summer sun, it would seem illogical that within a few minutes of parking, and with the shielded bottle, that a fire of this nature would be started. Some may say the mineral water contained an element which augmented the sun's rays. My guess would be, in view of previous findings, that if anything augmented the solar rays through a heavily covered bottle it was a booster current or magnetic ray from underground, as this was the exact spot where the episodes occurred six years previously.

"A word might not be amiss here, in regard to any cavern world. I think that the Director of BSRA has the most balanced viewpoint as evidenced by his material about the inner earth. He does not say that the inner earth cannot be inhabited by physical or dimensionally interchangeable beings. He does not say they are all good or all bad. He merely [16] hints, in substance, that unless we can do a thorough job in cleaning out the undesirable, it is better not to stir up a hornet's nest.

“I visited Shasta territory again in l953, staying in the town of Mt. Shasta, nine miles south of Weed on Highway 99 and more to the east. I have come a long way since 1945 and this I have found, we may have the good OR the bad. Our own thinking process is the port of entry I brought back preponderance of good from the beautiful Mt. Shasta, not evil. Good which has stayed with me through the years.

“We are not going to have a better world merely through investigation of any supposed dero. We don't have to enter the inner earth to find such lost souls. Earth's surface has enough people who need help and right thought. Neither do we have to explore the inner earth by way of finding saviors. These people also walk the earth's surface. As a means of being well-informed, there is no harm in reading about, listening to, and discussing the pros and cons of the inner earth -- providing we are well grounded in Truth. There is a place for everything in the universe, and everything in its place. So long as the Great Mind is at the helm and we keep our own thought pure, all will be revealed in time. There is a vast difference between going out of the way to stir up evil we cannot handle, and taking a stand should we be inadvertently confronted with this evil. In short, each person is his own keeper."


Shasta is a mountain of mystery, as Emma's 1946 visit proved to her. Your Editor has little reason to doubt that a Lodge of the White Brotherhood is active there. My study of the Kabala has taught me the principle of balance. This means that there must be also a Lodge of Black Magicians in the Shasta area. I have been told that this Lodge occupies 6,000 foot Black Butte, next to Mt. Shasta -- on which cinder pile nothing seems to want to grow. If your curiosity about Shasta has been aroused by the reading of Oliver's "Phylos, Dweller on Two Planets" by all means visit the place if you can. The mountain is an impressive pile of white, standing by itself against the California sky. Judy and I spent one night in the town of Shasta on the western slopes of the mountain, during our February 1961 lecture trip up to Vancouver and back. We didn't experience anything unusual and would have liked to stay longer to get the feel of the place. There are plenty of good motels in Shasta and Weed. There is also a comparatively new ski lodge on the mountain at about the 7,000 ft. level, with an excellent paved road going up to it from Shasta. The ski lift goes on up to about 9,000 feet, and operates in the summer as well. Accomodations at the lodge are limited and not cheap; reservations have to be made in advance during the winter skiing season. We would have liked to spend our night up there but the lodge is closed on Monday and Tuesday and booked solid the rest of the week. In my estimation, Mt. Shasta has been a center for occult activity here on the Pacific Coast for thousands of years. For this reason powerful elemental forces, neither good nor bad in themselves, continually play in and around the mountain. Individual reaction to these forces will depend on the preponderance of good or evil in one's own personality!




By Control Ramon Natalli
from "The Flying Roll"

This "curious" interview, as Meade Layne called it, took place between him and Natalli on Nov. 22, 1947, with Mark Probert hearing Ramon's answers clairaudiently and relaying them to Meade. He and Mark had been discussing Wm. Reed's book, "Phantom of the Poles".

"Yes, indeed, there are vast underground regions (caverns) that stretch from equatorial Africa to the north pole, and also to Venezuela, where there is an opening. (Q) Yes, these caverns connect, and this explains the resemblance of many customs and religious rites of early peoples; there was underground communication. (Q) The opening in Venezuela is in the southern tip, in the region north of Loreto. These caverns will explain to you the mysterious disappearance of whole races from time to time (such as the Mayas or pre-Mayas). I can't give you very much right now; this is a difficult mode of communication for me. This is Ramon Natalli. I am going to experiment with this method of working (i.e. clairaudience). But I'm not sidestepping your questions.

"(Q. of size of underground population) I would say several millions. Oh, yes, they are humans. Yes, there is some contact, but mainly through their secret organizations. These people as a whole are much more healthy than those of the surfaces. (Q) The reason they entered the caverns originally was that they discovered that the upper atmosphere was teeming with disease germs (and other harmful elements). These people as a whole know little about your surface life. Such knowledge is in the hands of the higher teachers. (Q) Yes, in some parts of the underground world people possess a high degree of culture. (Q) Yes, there are openings in Mexico, and one in the region of Alberta, Canada. Many of the sudden appearances of strange looking animals are explained by these facts. (Q) Yes, there is an opening in the region of the Bering Straits. It is true that surface waters, ocean waters, enter the earth. And this inflowing current is one of the main causes of fluctuation of the magnetic fields, the magnetic poles. (Q) Most of the caverns lie at 10 to 20 thousand feet below the surface. It is true that there are warm, tropical areas near the poles. They are walled in by ice and mountains. Yes, there is open water, and the oceanstream flows into the earth. It becomes warm from the abundant heat of the interior -- it is almost boiling at some points. (Q) The aurora is caused by an energy play between the core of the earth and the atmosphere, it is an electro-magnetic phenomenon. Some caverns were destroyed when Atlantis went under. (Described in Phylos. RC.) (Q) Yes, the story is theoretically possible. Olaf Jensen could have been carried into the interior in his boat, and by most careful navigating could have emerged at the south pole. A whole fleet could enter the earth, so far as that is concerned. I'll try to tell you more later and then you will understand better."



  1. Oliver, Frederick S. A Dweller on Two Planets, Or, the Dividing of the Way. Los Angeles: Baumgardt Pub. Co., 1905. Print. [Reprints by Borden Pub. Co.: 1942 ed., <http://amzn.to/1nuMVwr>; 1980 ed., <http://amzn.to/Lx74Ps> — Digital: <http://sacred-texts.com/atl/dtp>]
  2. Reed, William. The Phantom of the Poles [with Illustrations and Portraits]. New York: Walter S. Rockey Co., 1906. Print. <http://amzn.to/1pIXBaT> [Digital: <http://sacred-texts.com/earth/potp>, <https://archive.org/details/phantompoles00reedgoog>]
  3. Emerson, Willis G. The Smoky God; or A Voyage to the Inner World. Chicago: Forbes & Co., 1908. Print. [Re-ed., 1968: <http://amzn.to/XyQ9ol>; digital: <http://sacred-texts.com/earth/smog>, <https://archive.org/details/smokygodorvoyage00emer>]