Wingate - Atlantis in the Amazon : lost technologies and the secrets of the Crespi treasure

ATLANTIS
IN THE
AMAZON

This is a long-overdue book by an authority on the Carlo Crespi collection and what it means to our understanding of the first travelers to the Americas, long before Columbus. Not only is the case made for Atlantis in the Amazon, but Wingate also shows how this collection sounds a clear warning that humanitys destructive ways are drawing us ever nearer to the same annihilation that wiped out this once thriving and advanced culture. Sadly, Wingate makes the case for the high probability that we are to go the way of Atlantis by continuing to use nuclear energy.

ROBERT R. HIERONIMUS, PH.D., AUTHOR OF FOUNDING FATHERS, SECRET SOCIETIES AND HOST OF 21STCENTURYRADIO.COM

The controversial Crespi Collection is presented here by the man who personally examined its artifacts before they were confiscated by Ecuadoran authorities. Richard Wingates photographs and descriptions of beautifully made objects representing Assyrian or Babylonian figures document the arrival of Near Eastern culture-bearers in South America nearly three thousand years ago.

FRANK JOSEPH, AUTHOR OF ADVANCED CIVILIZATIONS OF PREHISTORIC AMERICA

INTRODUCTION

THIS BOOK IS WRITTEN IN two parts. Part One begins with evidence of an ancient civilization in the Caribbean, which could have been part of the far-flung diaspora of Atlantis. It also tells the story of Father Carlo Crespi and the fabulous collection of ancient artifacts he gathered in the Jivaro headhunters jungle near Macas in the Ecuadorian selva (rainforest). The chief of one tribe told him, Now that we are Christians, the old oaths to our ancestors dont bind us any more, and I will take you to what we have been guarding for the ancestors. He led Padre Crespi, then a young Catholic missionary-anthropologist, to deep tunnels containing thousands of artifacts, loads of gold, and most amazing of all, technology from a previous lost civilization: steel-hard copper wheels and gears, aluminum wallpaper, machinery of unknown usage, and tons of Assyrian, Babylonian, Cretan, and Aryan artifacts. The priest had money of his own from an inheritance, which he had wisely invested, and he was able to purchase much of the tunnels contents. Without stretching the imagination too much, it is possible to believe these artifacts and the strange technology did indeed come from a now deliberately vanished scientific civilization. That someone hid this treasure is obvious. But what was the motive?

The second part of this book reveals that the prehistoric Hindu Aryans had science and technology and misused it. The misuse: a worldwide nuclear war, fought for world domination. The few survivors, in consensus, helped no doubt by a green police effort to eliminate all trace of technology and the horrible memory of radiation poisoning, which deliberately plunged us into the Stone Age. Except that this Stone Age was voluntary. The Hindu holy history books, such as the Mahabharata and Rig Veda, describe this war in great detail: the launching of nuclear weapons, the destruction of entire races of people, and the subsequent dismantling and concealing underground of all science and technology by enlightened kings. This hidden science is now emerging. This is its story.

PART ONE

EVIDENCE OF AN ANCIENT CIVILIZATION

Father Crespis Treasure

BIMINI BOOGIE

HEY RICHAH, RICHAH, MON. Sgt. Rolle of the Bimini Constabulary was pounding on my door. The clock said 6:00 a.m. I was trying to sleep off an exceptionally good night of jugging and jawing, so I rolled over and put the pillow over my head. The place was Jim Richardsons house next to his hotel, the Bimini Islands Yacht Club on the south island of Bimini in the Bahamas.

Hey Richah, mon. I got up and opened the door a crack. There was the sergeant with four of his fellow officers. He was wearing his official uniform, dress whites, but the other police didnt have uniforms on, just outlandish party clothes; one of them, Leroy, was carrying a .22 rifle, while the sergeant had strapped on his large revolver, an English Webley .455. This was heavythe Royal Bahamas Police Force follows the British tradition: no firearms unless it is really serious.

Come on, Richah, get your boat. We got work to do. A crashed plane. I was almost alert by now. Michael Lopez, my stepson, staggered from another bedroom. We splashed cool water on our faces and ran down to our little boat, a twenty-two-foot Sea Ray. I checked the gas; the tank was full. We were ready to go but no breakfast and no coffee. Damn! As we untied the boat and headed down the canal toward open water, the sergeant told me the story. A cargo plane had crashed in a fierce lightning storm in the night as it was taking off from the tiny Bimini Airport. It had to be a smugglers plane, because the airport was officially closed at night. I hoped it wasnt filled with injured or drowned illegals on their way to a new life in the United States.

We stopped to tie on our thirteen-foot Boston Whaler outboard, then Mike gunned the Sea Ray out of the Bimini harbor and we headed for a World War II cargo plane. It sat with the fuselage barely showing above the waters surface, and its big fat tail jutted out of the water (figs. 1.11.3, pp. 57). You couldnt miss it. A fisherman had reported that a man was standing on the wing, but he was nowhere in sight. As we roared up to the plane we spotted another boat, which had been hidden from view by the airplanes huge tail. They gunned away fast, so we chased them with the sergeant holding his Webley revolver at the ready. They had a fast boat, but we were faster. When they saw they couldnt outrun us, they stopped. There were no weapons aboard, so the sergeant read them a lecture about running from the police. We were just curious, the nervous fishermen from Ft. Lauderdale said lamely.

Fortunately, there were no illegal aliens, no bodies, just a cargo of Mexican marijuana, gasoline-soaked from a ruptured fuel tank. The plane was full of bales and bales of cargo. The sergeant had his men dive down and they began salvaging the cargo.

Policeman Leroy, wearing outrageous high-heeled platform shoes, stood on a bale of recovered pot clutching a single-shot .22 rifle while fiercely scanning the sky. His fellow officer said in a bantering tone, Whatcha gonna doo wit dat little popgun, mon?

If dey come back, we be ready fo dem, he fiercely replied. Mike cracked a little sarcastic smile, but I liked the man; Officer Leroy was a fighter. Put the gun in the boat and start bringin up the stuff like the rest o the men, the sergeant said, gently, and then I knew why he was the sergeant.

Fig. 1.1. The Bahamas police recovering marijuana from a crashed World War II cargo plane hit by lightning during an electrical storm as it took off from Bimini airport, illegally, at night

Fig. 1.2. The tail of the sinking plane

Fig. 1.3. The author with the ill-fated cargo