July 1986 — On our first trip to Mt. Shasta, we all stayed at a hotel on the side of the mountain. There were three of us: myself, my wife and our good friend, Paul. I had awakened from my slumber at about 6 a.m. as we were going to go hiking on the mountain that day.
As I was waking up, I became instantly aware that I had heard a very strange and unusual music just before awakening. It wasn’t like hearing with my ears, but like hearing music from another room being played very, very softly. I describe the experience as having the music played directly to my soul. The music had a very regal and noble quality to it, with a strong, slow majestic beat to it. I was not aware of any voices singing at this time. I was quite surprised by this music and quickly asked my wife and friend if they had heard it. They indicated that indeed they had, and described it in a very similar fashion.
That day we went hiking, using a compass, up the northeast face of the mountain to the tree line, which is what we figured was about 1/3 of the way up. On our long drive to Mt. Shasta, we had studied some Sanskrit words of greeting, which we felt might jokingly come in handy should we come across some Lemurians.
To our surprise, while hiking on the mountain, we called out: “Ha joo ha” loudly and received an almost immediate “Ha joo ha” back to us — in a different voice. We assumed that our friend, Paul, who had learned the Sanskrit greetings along with us on the drive up, had responded to our call. Joining up with him a few minutes later, we questioned him intensely, figuring he was pulling a prank. He very clearly had not been the one to respond to our call. We figured it must have been an actual Lemurian responding. Who else would know Sanskrit?
Another unique experience we had on the mountain was during broad daylight, while I was sitting on a log chatting with another person we had befriended while hiking. Right in the middle of our conversation, we heard what sounded like a woman crying loudly for about 5 or 10 seconds. There was no one around, including my wife, who came up the trail a good several minutes later. I heard the sound and so did the gentleman I was chatting with. This experience was one of the more unusual we had while at Mt. Shasta.
But our most unusual experience by far happened as we were coming down the Northeast face of Mt. Shasta in a fairly remote area, using nothing but our compass to guide us. There were no trails at all in this immediate area. We had reached relatively level ground and had come to a beautiful open meadow area. I had raised my gaze up from the ground to see a man dressed in long brown robes. He was very tall with a full beard and mustache, facing and looking toward me with soft penetrating eyes. It was as quick as maybe a 1/100th of a second and he was gone.
In the split second that I saw this man, I gave out quite a knee-jerk shriek, as I was caught off guard. I had been quite absorbed in my thoughts previous to seeing him. My wife and friend Paul had not been looking in the same direction and had not seen the man. (Darn it!)
On our subsequent (three more) visits to Mt. Shasta while camping in our tent, all three of us heard men’s and women’s voices singing separately and alternately, as part of a chorus, as well as “Ohming”. In all occurrences it would seem like the hearing of the music was played directly to our souls, not heard with the ears. Also, it was heard most clearly when we were drifting off to sleep, although we heard the “ohming,” even while we were awake. (This was while we were camped deep into and near Military Pass road, with an incredible view of Mt. Shasta.)
I remember going outside of the tent to see if I would still be able to hear the “ohming” and I could still hear it ever so faintly. We explored a lava cave, known as “Pluto Cave,” with ceilings as high as about 10 to 12 feet. Part of the cave ceiling had already fallen in. We hiked as far back into the cave as we could into the pitch blackness. It was at this point that we all felt like we were being surrounded by unseen entities on either side of us.