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We have driven up from Bangkok, close to 450km, to have a look at the cave. A few buildings house nuns who greet us cheerfully. A man in a white shirt comes to speak to us in good English. I tell him why we are here and that I would like to have a talk with the resident monk. The man tells me everything around here is secret – he will ask the monk if he wishes to talk with me. Paul takes off to take photos. The monk allows me to climb up to his hut. I prostrate myself in front of him like a good Buddhist would. That surprises and pleases him. When he sees my necklace he points to it and I tell him who the monk on it is, Luang Por Khun, presently in hospital. The monk, a man I would guess to be in his early forties, asks me to sit in front of him and looks at me for some time, not smiling, just checking me. I look straight back at him and feel inner peace. Suddenly his face lights up and a conversation starts up between us, interpreted by the lay man, sitting off to the side.

What brings me here, I am asked. The Legend of Lijia Cave, I reply and tell him that I am a children’s book author planning to write an exciting adventure story about this cave.

What do I know about the history of this particular cave the monk asks me.

I tell him the legend as known to me: the Japanese brought to the cave 2,500 tonnes of gold. It traveled from Singapore up through Malaysia, Thailand, along the Death Railway and was destined for Burma. For specific reasons a sidetrack was built near here, the gold transported to the cave, secreted inside and the final train load was driven into the cave. Japanese soldiers were to guard the gold train inside and had been left to commit suicide when the cave was sealed through rock explosions. I tell him about the news frenzy in early 2001; the interview with Phra Apisit. He is the only known person alive who has seen the Lijia treasure.

Do I believe this story the monk asks me.

I tell him about my visit to the Naga Fireball phenomena in Nong Khai. I confess it is irrelevant if true or not – my soul enjoyed the annual lifting of fireballs out of the Mekong River. To accept without questioning is often enjoyable. The same applies to Lijia Cave. I am writing an adventure novel – not a documentary. I am here to get a feel for the surroundings, to view the damaged mountain and the sealed cave across from the stream.

The story about Lijia Cave is true the monk tells me. And this concludes the interview.

Before I leave I ask him to bless me and my book project. The monk gives me a lengthy blessing. I put a large banknote onto a cloth in front of him as a donation. The monk tells me it is far too much. It comes from my heart I reply. He smiles benevolently and accepts. I leave his hut and walk toward the cave.

A pass, wide enough for train tracks, leads to a metal bridge over a small stream in front of a steep mountain. The cave entrance is sealed by huge rock formation, evidence of explosions that made part of the mountain collapse.

I could go on and on… I’ll leave that for my novel.

Pebo