In my book A Gathering of Diamonds there is a scene where Tom Logan and Mary Ann Stewart crawl into a dilapidated Arkansas mine shaft in search of Logan’s missing brother’s journal.  Tom Logan is a Vietnam vet facing recurrent nightmares caused by his tour of duty.  One of the experiences that haunt him was being lowered by rope into a dark pit filled with viperous snakes.  Saddled by his claustrophobic paranoia, the muddy trip into the old mine doesn’t go well.

I was also in Vietnam but luckily I was never lowered into a pit of viperous snakes, although I did hear a similar story and believe that it is true.  I have, however, crawled into many old mine shafts in Arkansas and I can attest to feeling much of the claustrophobic paranoia that Tom Logan experienced.

I entered the mines while working on my master’s thesis in southwest Arkansas.  I was looking for veins of antimony ore in order to piece together the geologic history of the area.  Exploring a hundred-year-old mine is dangerous and something I would never risk again.  Still, like Tom and Mary Ann’s journey into darkness, the need to know often exceeds the danger of discovery.

Here is a short excerpt from A Gathering of Diamonds and the trip into the mine:

       The entrance to the mine was barely four feet high and the crowning timber had fallen, partially blocking the opening.  Red filigree fern cloaked the collapsed entrance making it impossible to see more than ten feet into its mouth.  I nudged a rock with my foot.

       "You shouldn't go in there.  Too dangerous."

       Mary Ann continued attaching the lantern to the metal clamp on the front of her cap.  She added carbide and water from her canteen before screwing the cap back on.  When she finished, she wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked at me.

       "This is carbide.  When you add water, it gives off acetylene gas.  You coming with me?"

       "Are you serious?"

       "As a heart attack.  Well?"

     "You're really crazy."

       Mary Ann read something in my expression that told her more than my reply.

       "It's all right if you're scared.  Many people are scared of holes in the ground.  You stay here.  I'll look."

       She removed a ball of twine from her pack and said, "I'll tie this at the entrance and unwind it as I go.  Unless it breaks, it'll keep me from getting lost."

       My heart had begun to thump above the sound of thunder and my throbbing temples signaled an approaching migraine.  Moisture, along with rainwater, dripped from my forehead.  I shrugged and frowned at the angry clouds, blinking away water from my eyes.

       "I'm going with you," I said.

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