Salt Mine

Grey-white galleries run deep under the town, cut square through rock salt that glitters wherever a lamp touches it. Timber cribbing and iron rails line the first level, with hooks for lamps at every junction and narrow stalls of fresh straw tucked into a side chamber. The walls are worn glassy smooth at shoulder height. Further down, the galleries open into the salt chapel, a vast hall carved entirely from the rock, with an altar, steps and long rows of reliefs all cut from the same grey salt. Three chandeliers of salt crystal hang from its vaulted ceiling. Lit, they glow amber. Off the chapel a low passage leads to a small grotto where raw crystals bloom from the walls like frost. Deeper still, the third level is worked out and silent, its chambers propped with dark timber and an old shaft fenced off with planks. An iron gate stands open at the far end. Beyond it, the salt turns to sandstone.