I stare in horror at the cave entrance, or rather, what I’d simply call a hole in the snow. The entrance isn’t very large, but it’s big enough for a grown man to squeeze through. I try to peer inside to see the end of the tunnel, but there’s no end in sight. And I’m supposed to go in?!? Everyone else must have lost their minds. Okay, I take a deep breath. I can do this. I just need to focus. I put on my helmet and pull my headlamp over it. I strap my backpack across my stomach. I eye the small snowy opening I’m supposed to squeeze through warily. I sit on my butt and awkwardly try to crawl inside. Near the end of the tunnel, it gets tight, I roll awkwardly onto my stomach, my backpack getting in the way, so I just drag it behind me. I managed, I somehow managed to climb in. At this point, I can stand up. I slowly walk down the dark corridor, observing the wondrous ice crystals. Something beautiful, perfect stars, here and there cubes. I’ve been standing there for a few minutes, contemplating the ice crystals and wondering how nature could have created something so incredible. A little further on is a huge chamber. We leave our backpacks; they’ll be safe here; outside, the wind would surely blow them away.

My helmet is bothering me. Why on earth did I wear it? Yes, I know, rules, safety, blah, blah, blah. During the first tight passage, I hit my head out of desire. And now it’s hard to disagree: a helmet is a must!

How strange, you guys! I’m right under a glacier. The cave walls are nothing but ice, and the deeper we go, the more strange the chambers and passages become. Sometimes it takes a lot of effort to get to the next chamber. We’ve been walking for a good half hour, and here the cave ends. We can’t get through any further. I turn off my headlamp, the last source of light disappearing. I feel as if darkness has enveloped me, as if I’ve disappeared somewhere. I remember exactly what I thought at that moment:

Walking on glaciers is pure madness, And walking betheath them? Even more so.