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By Don Croft <firstname.lastname@example.org>
The blue hole at Mars Bay is right on the edge of the beach. It’s perfectly round, about 100 feet in diameter and nobody has been able to determine its depth (Carol said it’s about a thousand feet deep}. At low tide, the hole is surrounded by exposed white coral sand, which continuously falls into it.
I took a breath and dove down about 30 feet and saw that the sandy edge slopes down about 10 feet to the rocky walls. The walls are honeycombed with large openings from which I felt some pretty strong currents that were colder than the surrounding water. There was quite a lot of plankton, so the visibility was only about 15 feet, and there were a lot of fish of varying sizes. I suspect that a lot of fresh water comes into the hole through the caves.
We swam to the middle of the hole to drop the holy hand grenade I’d prepared with a little parachute. Carol took some pictures of the ‘launch’ with the underwater camera she’d bought for my 52nd birthday (May 5) and we watched as it slowly descended out of sight.
Carol said that the energy of the vortex there was already very strong and pleasant but it gained a lot more vitality, rotation rate, and color as soon as we put the HHg in the water. Also, the gnomes that had followed us came closer to the hole and were discussing us. They still wouldn’t acknowledge Carol’s attempts to communicate with them, though.
The guardian of the vortex, who Carol says is an Atlantean, was very pleased with what we did and communicated that to the elementals. On the walk back to Kemps Bay, I heard them several times as they followed us in the bush along the road. Once it sounded just like a bolting horse in the extremely thick growth (you can’t see more than a few feet into it anywhere on South Andros).
We stayed there for another hour and discussed chartering a boat with a fisherman who showed up to see what the tourists were doing. The Wingmakers told Carol that we’d have to do the work ourselves, so we didn’t make a deal with the fisherman. The site of the underwater city given to Carol by the dolphins is only 45 miles from where we were. We felt frustrated that conditions didn’t permit us to go straight there.
About a half hour after we began walking back, Carol told me the HHg had finally reached the bottom of the blue hole.
Nearly every car that passed us stopped and the drivers offered to give us a ride, but we said we were just getting some exercise. I’m sure we would have had some nice conversations.
The next day we waited for Willy to arrive. It was pretty tough for us to just hang out and everybody was too busy to play.
The Second Blue Hole
We stopped first at the one I had been to before. I threw one of the HHg’s into the middle of the hole and the energy immediately grew stronger, brighter and began rotating faster. This one had been a little more sluggish than the one we’d been to at Mars Bay. Carol said that was due to some people who lived beside it and were angry most of the time. Our guide’s deceased grandmother, who had been very fond of this blue hole, had been upset about the activities of these people (Carol picked that up), but was very pleased with what we did there, as was the guardian of the vortex. I believe that the Atlanteans had found a way to live out of time in a way that’s more substantial than astral travel. Carol feels that some of the Wingmakers are also Atlanteans.
In Florida, Carol was instructed to use an extra large HHg for both the huge vortex east of Bimini (we’ll have to do that one next time unless somebody else gets to it first) and the one east of San Diego, which is not that big, but is severely distorted by the nefarious work being done in the underground base there. We were instructed to install a special copper coil in one of the HHg’s destined for Bohemian Grove because of the nefarious activities there (not the least of which is large scale pedophilia) conducted by criminals among the world’s foremost bankers, politicians and military men every summer around the solstice.
The last of the generators went into the fourth and last blue hole we visited on South Andros with the same results. It’s worth mentioning that our guide was sacrificing some sleep time as she was working as a mechanic on the night shift at the power plant for the island.
That night, all four of the Atlantean guardians of the blue holes came to Carol and offered to help us whenever we asked them. The elementals had also become friendly with us. One of them, whom I call Norm, has been with us off and on since my trip there in December/January. I’ve seen and heard him several times since then, and generally sense when he’s present.
Years ago when I visited the Yucatan coast in my sailboat, I noticed that most of the fishermen there were using very big, powerful outboards. The money they were getting for their catch didn’t begin to compensate for the amount of fuel and the cost of the motors, as the bottom had dropped out of the market for fresh fish.
At the time I thought it would be more appropriate for them to use smaller motors. I did meet one man who was operating an old converted fishing sailboat with a small diesel motor. It looked very seaworthy and could carry a lot of fish and ice.
The Bahamian fishermen were getting a good price for their fish but also preferred the big motors. Willy remarked to the other men at the boatyard that he’d used my little 8hp Johnson all week trolling and only used a tank of gas. He also told them that my Terminator had cured all of his health problems, which was nice because people who hadn’t tried one there were skeptical. There was a lot of flu there since the chemtrails started showing up recently. I was glad to hear them openly discussing it. We were able to show a couple of flu sufferers that a zapper cures it in a few minutes.
We white Americans don’t have much tribal identity, but most of the people in the world still do. I’ve noticed that in a tribal society, people get their awareness en masse whereas we tend to do it more individually. No doubt both ways have their benefits and drawbacks, but if brainwashing is taken out of the mix, there’s a lot to be said for both.
Willy made it clear that I was welcome to build a house on any of the beaches he owned in the vicinity of Smith Hill. I’ve decided to send him the title to the boat in exchange for that gesture. We’ll be doing more work there sooner or later and it will be nice to have our own place. I’ll most likely just put a concrete pad down for a large tent or two.
We had planned to take no more than a week or so to complete our work there. We still needed to visit the site the dolphins showed Carol and drive the boat 250 miles back to Miami, stopping at the Bimini vortex on the way to drop the big HHg. The sea had already become rough again, so we reluctantly decided to simply fly back to Miami. We’re sure we’ll be back there before long, though.